#granted i did say eventual smut bc there will be

[wttcsms]

i don’t normally get upset or affected by comments on fics, but i am thinking about how daylight is a very special fic to me & if you didn’t know, features reader as a sex worker. a big part of the fic is the fact that you’re discovering/allowing yourself the chance to fall in love and experience true, pure, nothing but good intentions type of love and how because sex, one of the most intimate acts you can share with a person, is your only way to survive, that the act itself is reduced to just a transaction/job. letting someone into your life, sharing stories that you’ve never told before, admitting your fears and showing your vulnerabilities — those are acts of intimacy that are harder and also more precious to you!!!!! it took nearly 40k words for you to share ur first kiss w the male lead!!!! so i still think abt the comment that’s like “hope there’s smut in the next chapter” and there was no ill intention behind the comment but it just made me pause and get kind of sad bc them not having sex for a while is… actually a big deal to me and for the fic… its a love story, guys. can we have a romance where we know the two leads are attracted and very much in love with each other without them having to fuck on screen to prove it.

[yuzukult]

crush 01 | jww & oc/reader

title: crush 01 / part of the attacca series pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader/oc (ft. seokmin) rating: 16+ (for this chapter) genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, racecar driver!au, mechanic!au wc: 7.6k summary: all he knows are fast rides, drag-strips, and speed ovals until he meets you, someone that’s got his heart racing instead of his car. warnings: explicit language, smoking, suggestive content (but nothing follows through) a/n: !! sighs i know im back with another mechanic!au but !! hear me out, there’s racing involved okay !! i hope you guys enjoy this (and no i did not neglect my other series!! this just has been something i’ve been working on forever, so i hope you all like this :) -- and yes, i switched this from a one-shot to a series bc it was killing me how long i was holding it hostage !!

comment if you’d like to be included in the future taglist :) i’m starting fresh bc i felt bad for how long i’ve kept this lol

Nose twitching, you cross your arms over your chest with a thermos in hand, housing your favorite coffee—the Folgers’ classic roast instant coffee crystals that melt the moment it meets with boiling hot water because you can’t be bothered to wait for the coffee machine to brew the grinds. Normally, you’d be able to smell the freshness of the caffeine, but instead, you’re met with the aroma of burnt rubber on the asphalt wafting underneath your nose. Of course, you shouldn’t have expected anything else—this only ever happens at the track.

To be quite fair, you should’ve been used to all of this by now. The zooming of the cars when they make laps around the track, the whiff of the smoke that spits out of the exhaust, and the crisp clicking that the high-powered impact wrench makes when it’s changing the four tires on the cars at a pit box. And yet, every time you’re here, it feels like an entirely new experience.

Truthfully, you don’t know if you love it here. There’s always too much going on during the races; the chaos on the track, the abundance of people at the bleachers who watch attentively with their favorites in mind, the hollering and screaming, occasional fight breakouts, and the obsession with the cars themselves is too much to handle. You already have a lot going on in your day job—why are you even here?

Oh, right. Because that driver over there—the one with the chestnut color hair, beaming bright smile, and contagious laugh with that cute little beauty mark on his cheek—is your best friend. The one that you might be head over heels for since the beginning of time.

It’s a bit dramatic to introduce him like that, but it’s the only way your heart sees him. Helmet tucked underneath his arm, his loud yet saccharine guffaw fills the air as he exchanges words with one of his crew mates. You don’t know what that’s all about, but what you know is that he asked you to be here, claiming that you’re his ‘good luck charm’ of some sorts.

Whether or not that’s true, you’re still present.

Although you’ve voiced your feelings a handful of times, Lee Seokmin has made it clear: relationships aren’t his priority at the moment—his dreams are.

But, you remain by his side while wearing a blissfully oblivious mask, pretending like you don’t know about his late night escapades where he meets women at the track and takes them out for drinks before inviting them back to his hotel room. Clubs, afterparties, celebrations, tailgates—he’s encountered them through it all, but the only one he hasn’t brought back is you.

Mostly because he ‘treasures’ your relationship too much. You’re the type of person he’d take home to his mom, he says, not to a shoddy motel room right off the highway next to that gas station with the flickering vacancy sign.

And if this was someone else sharing their story, you would’ve told them to lose the guy and find someone worthwhile, someone who wouldn’t take their time for granted, and someone who would love them the way they deserved to be loved.

Unfortunately, this was you you were talking about here, and the only thing you are is delusional and clueless. (You can admit that much). 

You choose to turn a blind eye when Seokmin is stumbling out of a club, shirt unbuttoned down to his chest, hooded gaze and slurring words with a girl underneath his arm with her skirt hitched nearly up to her upper thigh, breasts almost falling out of the cups of her top. Because even though he’s bringing her to his bed tonight, you hoped he’d eventually be ready to bring you to your shared forever home one day.

You want to be his everything, his endgame—so if this is what it takes to get there, you’d suffer a little.

(Sounds pathetic, you don’t need another reminder).

“You did good.” You grin, calling out to Seokmin who turns his attention to you. It seems like his smile gets wider at the sight of you walking down to where he’s stationed, wearing that sweatshirt he gave you last autumn with his car sewn in the pocket area and his name in the back. 

“You probably didn’t know what you were watching,” he chuckles, handing off his helmet over to a teammate. Sometimes, you wondered if Seokmin knew their names without checking what’s sewn into their suits. “You just sit in the stands and watch me diligently. Do that thing where you furrow your brows like you’re concentrating.”

You mimic the description by scrunching up your face. “I’m not even a fan of racing, you asked me to come here.”

He pats your head affectionately. “I know. And I’m thankful for that.”

Your heart swells. It didn’t help that Seokmin was always like this, and because of that, he made it harder for you if you ever wanted to detach from him. He lures you in effortlessly, like you’re afflicted from the aftermath of a love potion but it’s all because of that charming smile that he shoots your way and not because you were shot by Cupid’s arrow itself. 

Seokmin clears his throat, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his racing overalls. He looks good like this; the white compliments him and brightens his face—not that he needs it but it compliments him. “Listen… I know you seem to always have the latest scoop on people…”

“I don’t, but go on.” Totally a lie, the last dinner you had with your friends was entirely a gossip session–but that’s besides the point.

“Have you ever heard of some guy by the name of Jeon Wonwoo?”

With a slight tilt of your head, you blink blankly. It’s not familiar, mostly because you don’t know the person yourself but also since the name hasn’t been brought up at any tea spilling outing. But from the tone of Seokmin’s voice, you’re almost tempted to do your own digging. “Jeon… Wonwoo… no, can’t say that rings a bell. What’s up?”

Seokmin waves you off, clicking his tongue after. “Some street racer. Said he was gonna come in here and start racing professionally. Can you believe that?” he scoffs in disbelief. “Doin’ it illegally then suddenly you want it as a career.”

You shrug. “I mean, everyone starts off somewhere. His start might’ve not been ideal, but at least he’s trying to make things right.”

For a moment, it’s hard to read the expression on Seokmin’s face. There’s a hint of annoyance, you manage to make out, but before he lets you analyze any further, it contorts into an adoring one as he leans over to ruffle your hair. Why does he purposely continue to tug on your heartstrings like this? It makes you feel like a middle school girl crushing on a boy in her class. 

Are you really this whipped?

“You’re always looking for the good in people. Sweet, but street racers are assholes. If you ever meet one,” he states warily, but there’s a playful inflection embedded in his words, “don’t trust them. They’re bad news.”

But when he says that, you can’t help but get a flashback of all the times he’s hit on girls for a one night stand… in front of you, despite knowing your feelings for him. Or those times he’s led you on, had you on your toes, thinking that you’d be the next in line for his heart, but instead you find yourself here, as an equivalent to a four leaf clover, a rabbit’s foot or even a horseshoe for his tournaments.

Street racers aren’t the only bad people.

“Hey!” 

Flinching, the two of you jolt your attention to the voice, and you spot a little Lee Chan in his matching porcelain white racing overalls as Seokmin—from the biggest to smallest companies out there, brands decorated Seokmin’s, and even though Chan only had two logos on his, he looked like the mini version of your best friend.

He grins cheekily, pointing to the one out of two brands on his clothes. ‘FIC’ in a red square with writing in brown is woven instead of some cheap iron-on patch right above his heart, and you let out a little laugh. “Your logo came!”

“Looks good, Channie.”

Seokmin furrows his brows. “The fuck is a FIC?”

You wave your navy blue thermos in his face before patting Chan’s back. 

“Folgers’ Instant Coffee,” you both say in unison and Seokmin only shakes his head.

“Isn’t that copyright infringement?”

The two of you shrug in unison. 

To Chan, Seokmin was a mentor. He had become everything Chan aspired to be—on the racetrack, that is, and getting to be this up and close to him was a dream come true. Seokmin is barely pushing twenty-five and he’s already won so many tournaments; trophies lined up the shelves back at his childhood house, providing nothing other than proving his mother wrong when she’d used to say ‘study, driving won’t get you anywhere in life!’ All this while bringing her home an abundance of gifts because there’s nothing better than refuting your mother’s expectations by exceeding them.

“Well,” Seokmin begins, tossing the driving gloves that one of his crew mates catches. “You’re gonna need a whole lot more sponsorship offers if you wanna upgrade your car. You can’t be riding that piece of shit on our track. Ruins the asphalt.”

“He could always drive my car.”

“Nobody wants your little ass 2004 Toyota Camry on our track,” he jokes, but you can sense the expression of Chan’s face dropping in your peripheral vision. “Chan needs a real car to make it.”

Chan juts out his bottom lip. “Those street racers—they always mod their cars and they still go super fast. Can’t we figure something out? Some people make it into the big leagues from working on their cars themselves and—”

“You can’t drive on the track with a mod, it’s gotta be a stock car,” Seokmin lets out a huge, frustrated sigh. “And can we cut the crap about those idiot street racers? They’re so fucking stupid, they can’t even figure out how to get into the main track, so they substitute it by racing illegally. Stop taking tips from those assholes. Just makes you one of ‘em.”

There he goes again. What’s his deal? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but your best friend’s temper has shortened, and the tips of his ears were growing red each time the topic of those street racers would come up. And who the fuck was Wonwoo?

“Hey, you alright? You seem tense.” It’s only Friday, and although competitions happen on Saturdays, Seokmin doesn’t usually get nervous. But the way his fists clenched at his side is a different look on him. “You seem off.”

“Jeon Wonwoo is racing tomorrow,” he announces grimly, and even though you don’t know what that entails, the look of surprise and concern that washes over Chan’s face alludes to what it could mean.

“But—what—huh? How? And that’s so—oh my god, you’re gonna go up against one of the best street racers in our region. Or world, even,” Chan’s mouth won’t close and his eyes are practically bulging outside of its pockets. “What are you gonna do, Seok?”

“There’s no tier in street racing,” Seokmin scoffs, arms crossing over his chest in pride. “And I’m gonna bring the best to the table, that’s what. I’m not losing to a mediocre street racer.”

Didn’t he just say there wasn’t a tier for street racing?

You’ve spent a decent amount of time with Seokmin, and what’s strange about him today is that he looks… not as confident as he sounds. The words he says exudes the certainty he has for winning, but take that away and it’s been a blanket for his insecurity.

Was Lee Seokmin actually afraid of competing tomorrow? And if he was, why was this Wonwoo guy bugging him so much? Who was he? It didn’t help that your probing isn’t getting you anywhere.

“Coming tomorrow?” Seokmin asks you, but his eyes are elsewhere. Sneaking a glance, you notice his gaze is on one of the flag girls that you recalled from a race a couple weeks back. Black hair long enough to reach her ass, nose so pointy that it peeks through the clouds, and teeth so fucking white that it could blind you, she’s already bouncing her way to you three.

“Mm, yeah,” you respond as coolly as possible. Part of you wants him to remember how calm you were whenever he was pursuing other girls when he could’ve been after you. He’d rather have a girl like that in lieu of you. A cool girl. Well, sorta. You’re just chillin’… vibin’… going with the flow… patiently waiting for–who are you kidding? Why the fuck isn’t he yours yet?  “As promised. Your lucky charm.” The words look sweet on paper, but they spill through your gritted teeth. 

“Great.” He pats your shoulder. “Imma hang out with Chaeri. See you tomorrow?”

“Hah,” you let out an awkward laugh. “Yeah, yeah, tomorrow.”

You are, and will be forever, a hopeless romantic. Especially for Lee Seokmin.

As you watch him jog toward yet another pretty girl, Chan looks at you sympathetically. Geez, are you that pitiful? “Why do you keep waiting around for him?”

“I’m not.” Already, the mouthpiece of your thermos is at your lips.

“You should really consider going out and dating,” Chan suggests, watching as you do your best to avoid the topic by turning your head. “And I know you hate hearing it, but it’s really not worth it. I admire him as a driver, but as a boyfriend— let’s just say I don’t think Seok is going to change any time soon when it comes to his dating life. Maybe it’s better off finding another guy who would actually appreciate you coming to events like these. You don’t even like racing.”

“I… I like racing.” You don’t sound convincing, and the look on Chan’s face only confirms that he doesn’t believe you either.

You know Chan is right. Despite being younger, he’s got a lot of knowledge and words of wisdom to share – still doesn’t mean you want to listen though because you’re hard-headed and there’s a portion of you that’s a bit lovesick. There’s a dream that one day, Seokmin will realize that the person that was made for him was right beside him all along. 

His best friend. 

You.

But here you are, watching from the distance, him groping some chick’s ass on the side of a racetrack, ready to take her out for another day of fucking around. 

Why do you insist on torturing yourself? You need to mentally smack yourself for not detaching your eyes from this very heart twisting scene.

“Fine,” you concede, shoulders dropping along with your efforts for that brief second. “Let’s go to a bar or something tonight. Pick me up? Then you can be my wingman.”

Chan’s smile stretches from ear to ear. “Great, I’m excited. We’ll find you someone with 8-pack abs, a sweet looking face, and a great personality.”

How do you tell Chan that finding someone with all the characteristics he described is pretty much impossible? For one, does he think someone with 8-pack abs and a sweet looking face could ever have a great personality? You swore the past couple guys you met on that dating site that your friends force you to hop on were exactly that—the type of attractive that had drool spilling from the corner of your lips that actually makes your head go blank until the morning after when you find yourself in their sheets and they still can’t tell you what 8 times 3 equals. How many times did you have to tell your friends that just because some of them found love online, it didn’t mean that you would too?

Nonetheless, the whole description of those men doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with a ‘great personality’ per say, but that adds onto it. If a guy can’t even do simple math or have any common sense, what good does having a nice personality do anyways?

You feel like you should give up. What the hell was Lee Chan thinking?

Puffing out a heavy sigh, you find your way through the crowd of people for that spot to lean against the wall. You’ll have to give him another list of reasons why this night cannot repeat itself, and you refuse to go on this dating venture that he wants you on. The bar he’s invited you to is packed—from the crowds that are hollering over the pool tables to the waves of people that frequent the counter, too awkward to stand elsewhere. The air was getting thick, so you opted to loiter at that spot by some old jukebox that’s probably been out of service since the year you were born. 

From there, you spot Chan by the billiards table, cue sticks in hand with the cheekiest smile on his stupid face. 

That’s when you spot the girl.

She’s got these cute baby blue jeans, white shirt with balloon sleeves, and cream chunky sneakers that make her even more adorable. As she shuffles over to lean over the table, she closes an eye in concentration, and with her stick, she does a quick push to hit the white ball. And she misses.

Chan releases the most melodious laugh, one saturated in nothing but elation at the sight of the girl who pouts and shoves him but the impact doesn’t do much to him. Pulling her close by her waist, he presses a gentle kiss onto the crown of her head.

Even that corny dork found love. You remember him talking about this girl he’s been dating since high school, Kyungmi, and how he’d been crushing on her since he saw her play at her soccer match. Granted, she slipped and fell onto the muddy field because she didn’t tie her shoelaces, her pants stained brown and he lent her his hoodie for her to wrap around her waist. Since then, they’ve been inseparable.

Why couldn’t you and Seokmin be like that?

Instead, he chooses to be a fucking ass.

Another weighted breath surrenders from your lungs as your shoulders slouches even further. The ice floating atop the margarita is thinning, a layer of water amassing above the alcoholic beverage. The loveseat is what it’s called; a strawberry lemonade margarita, the saccharine juices of both artificial fruit and a slice of the actual strawberry plopped in, it’s a combination of how you were starting to see love as. Seemingly naturally sweet, you eventually learn from the clumps of syrup at the bottom that it’s not as authentic as you used to think it was from the half cut berry that's saturated with liquor. 

You take a sip of the watered down cocktail. So much for us, Lee Seokmin. Nose scrunching up, you’re debating if it’s from the thought of him or the tartness of the citrus. 

Waiting for Seokmin was starting to become embarrassing. A hopeless romantic is a nickname you never thought you’d find yourself possessing, one that sounds good on the pages of a fairytale or on a screen of a romcom but in reality, it’s naive to be in an unrequited love. The words that leave his lips are nothing but just that—the dialogue of a screenplay meant for a melodrama and not the genuine feelings he inhabits. These types of plots were only interesting in a form of entertainment–not the realities of life. 

Maybe you should fuck around. Why are you wasting time anyways? If Seokmin gets to, you should too. 

Oh. Right.

After the fourth guy that tried offering to buy you a drink at the bar, you realize how despairing the dating scene is. It’s not for you—well, it’s particularly due to the fact that you’re at some hippie bar downtown; beanies on beanies on plaid and plaid and plaid… it’s not even that cold yet for autumn, what’s with these people with no variety in their closets? 

But that’s not to mention that you get attached too fucking quickly.

Your high school love? What was his name again? Just kidding—of course you remember his name, you doodled it all over the pages of your notebook with hearts all around it. Kwon Soonyoung. He dyed his hair a sunflower blonde and spiked it up once he figured out how to use the machines at the gym. Fawning over him was an understatement; you were one of the girls that sat tables away at the lunchroom, chin resting on the palm of your hand with a longing sigh. How could a jock like him ever notice a simple girl like you? 

And how did you fall for him in the first place?

Home room, 6:28am, just 2 minutes away from the bell. You dropped your pencil on the floor, ready to snatch it up but Soonyoung was faster. He handed it off to you, fingertips brushing against yours as he showcased that pearly white teeth of his. Then in the candied voice, he said, “yours?” followed by, “your lashes are pretty.”

You were smitten within seconds.

So, yeah. This whole fuck around thing wasn’t in the cards for you, which meant dating is a lot more of a serious topic than Seokmin sees it. 

Maybe you’ll keep giving it a shot.

Then there’s this guy. Man. Gentleman? His name is Eunwoo (or something, that’s what you hear over the loud bass booming through the speakers above you… suddenly you’re wishing the jukebox worked), he’s a mechanic and he loves fixing up old cars. You propose the idea of working on your old beast and he let out a chuckle, shaking his head with a lovely smile before saying, “I don’t normally do personal favors but… only if you really want me to.” He approaches you with an interesting greeting, in verbatim, “you look like you’re here against your will. Would you kill me if I used a sleazy pick-up line to ask if I could get a shot to make it better?”

Usually, you’d say no. But… you honestly are kind of bored and how much more disappointed could you get? It already feels like the rock bottom of the dating pool anyways.

But, luckily enough, you’re proven wrong. He’s different—a good kind of different. Eunwoo shares about how didn’t go to college, deciding that opening his own shop and utilizing the experience he had during high school working underneath cars would be more beneficial than a degree in bullshit. And he doesn’t ask if you want another drink—the half drunken margarita with condensation dripping from the sides is enough to give away that you’re done with it for the night. A man with manners, great observation skills and boundaries? Wow, can someone sign you up? (You don’t know if you really mean that).

When a couple of wasted boys start yelling at each other, Eunwoo does this thing where his hand hovers over your back as he leans in just barely, respecting your space and asks, “Wanna move this over there?” with his head gesturing in a direction away from the ruckus.

Fuck. He’s… sweet.

But you can’t fucking help comparing him to Lee Seokmin.

Good or bad, you’re not entirely sure. What you do know is that Seokmin… doesn’t look at you in the same way that Eunwoo does. He’s intrigued, and the swirls of coffee cups for eyes he has is sodden with adoration. When you talk about your job, Eunwoo asks questions that range from ‘What is it that you exactly do?’ to ‘Is this your passion?’ He shows genuine interest, not even realizing that his shoulder is sore from leaning on the jukebox too long that when he shifts in his position, his arm cracks multiple times. 

“Should we get outta here?” he asks, slipping the old silver Zippo lighter from his pocket as the two of you slip out of the bar. He pops a cigarette between those pretty lips, a clink sound when he flicks open the cap and the wick heats up the bud. “You’ll see that car of mine that I told ‘ya about and we can stop by that diner five minutes out.”

A 2008 Spicy Red KIA Sorento.

“For a car guy, I wasn’t really expecting… a simple KIA.”

He laughs; it’s gentle and kind, just like his eyes, and he unlocks the doors with a click of a button on the fob. “It’s a friend’s car. He wanted me to check on some stuff. Just driving it around to see if I can hear that funny rattling sound he’s talking about.”

“Hmm,” you hum in amusement, stopping in your tracks when the two of you approach his car. “Then what do you drive?”

Eunwoo turns to you with a soft chuckle. “A Toyota Prius.”

“I don’t usually get into guys’ cars that I just met,” you confess, and Eunwoo’s smile widens even further. “And you’re not the exception either. How about I give you my number instead? Maybe if I trust you enough, I’ll let you take me for a spin in that Prius.”

He rests back against his car, a soft chuckle escaping from his chest as he shakes his head. “Although I wanted to take you out for an oreo milkshake from a diner—”

“—I might need to pop a lactaid pill before that—”

Eunwoo bites his bottom lip from letting out another snicker. “—I’ll make sure to take you to it next time and that you take that anti-lactose or whatever pill. You know what makes a good diner?”

You tilt your head. “What’s that?”

“If at least one of the letters on the sign’s light goes out or flickers,” he frees the puff of smoke from his lips before tossing the filter to the ground and stomping it with the bottom of his shoe. “But I respect that. Don’t go to the homes or into cars of men you just met.”

Eunwoo unlocks his phone and clicks the green phone app before handing it to you. “I’ll text you. I got an early morning tomorrow anyway, it was probably best that you rejected my offer. After all, we would’ve talked all night.”

As cheesy as that pick up line is, it holds some truth. 

Eunwoo texts you through the night—he’s funny, charming, and manages to make a simple conversation engaging. Do guys normally tell you about how they ripped their pants in front of their 4th grade classroom because they dropped their pencil during their book report read-aloud? He even got you spilling about how when you took a nap after an exam in high school, you woke yourself up from a fart and looked around to make sure no one heard that. And that’s why you never go anywhere in public after a fiber protein bar. 

Then it had you thinking: why can’t Seokmin seem as interested in you as Eunwoo?

Never has he once had a conversation with you that led to the point that you were talking about the most embarrassing grade school stories. It reached to the point that you somehow looped the topic to be about the first time you’ve ever gotten so drunk, you fell asleep in front of your dorm’s vending machine! (To be fair, three of your other college friends were also knocked out in front of that very same machine).

And if you’re comparing all the boys you’ve loved before fairly, Soonyoung still ended up being your first relationship in spite of your constant inner dialogue telling you that he’d never be with you. You ended up breaking up because of college—he had gotten into his dream university that was thousands of miles away, and you couldn’t turn down the scholarship that was being offered by yours. 

Seokmin is only centimeters away and still couldn’t give you the same attention that Soonyoung did in freshman year of college before you both realized it wasn’t going to work.

It’s Saturday. 

Which means it’s the day.

When you spot Chan in a booth towards the front of the venue, he looks a little nervous–well, little feels like quite an understatement in that sentence. The boy is bouncing on the balls of his feet with his eyes skimming the entire arena like the very thing he’s afraid of is going to pop up at any second. He’s got on the same white racing overalls that match with the rest of Seokmin’s team with his name plastered across his back and the logos of the companies that sponsored him.

You hope that someone will wear Chan’s name one day.

There are girls that stand beside Chan in shirts with Seokmin’s numbers displayed and it leaves you wondering if he ever did anything more with them other than signing their paychecks. 

“Hey,” you greet, furrowing your brows. The way Chan continuously checks his surroundings like a prey, awaiting to run away from its predator doesn’t get missed. “Where’s my sweatshirt?”

“Uh,” he stumbles with his phone in his hands, nearly dropping it on the floor before he shuffles through the shelves underneath to grab yours for you. “H-Here you go..”

You take the sweatshirt from him. “What’s up with you?”

“He’s on edge,” Chan says, fingers tapping against the table. “Well, he will be the moment he spots Wonwoo. And he could be here any minute now. I’m not sure how the fuck he’s gonna act, but he’s gonna react for sure.”

“I don’t get the whole deal with Wonwoo,” you say as you slip your arms through, pulling the sweatshirt over your head as your words get muffled in the thickness of the fabric. “He’s just some racer, right? Plus, Seok doesn’t even know how the guy drives. Why’s he so—”

As your head peeks through the neckband, you freeze when you hear that infamous name slip from Chan’s lips.

“O-Oh, hi, Wonwoo.”

“Hey, you’re… Chan, right?” he greets, hands in the front pockets of his blue jeans, a soft smile upon his face. “I saw you at that newbies tournament a couple weeks ago. You did so good, proud of you. I hope to see you with the big dogs one day.”

Hold up.

The charm, the gentle voice… those cute glasses…

He’s… Wonwoo.

The bar was infuriatingly loud that you misheard his name. 

He’s not Eunwoo, and the fact that it didn’t register in your head fast enough when he kept giving you clues last night while the two of you texted until the sun rose was dumb on your part. He kept saying, “I need to get up early to drive tomorrow,” and spoke about his car incessantly like it was his passion or something. He’s fucking Wonwoo.

Well, no shit.

He’s a fucking racecar driver.

“Hey,” Wonwoo greets. He’s got on a dark washed denim jacket, and thin wire framed glasses that compliments the amiableness in his grin. There’s something about him that’s disparate to Seokmin, and you figure that it’s his affable nature drawing you in. Seokmin was a great friend, but it took a while to build that trust. Wonwoo? It only took a brief conversation for him to get your number. “Didn’t think I’d find you here. Did you sleep well?”

“Can’t say that I did,” you admit, words not matching that grin you mimic on his face. He’s so contagious when it comes to his smile. “But… I think the results of what came out of it was worth it. Did you sleep well?”

“Can’t say that I did either,” he mocks jokingly. Wonwoo’s eyes detach from yours, now averted to the image sewn into the right side of your sweatshirt. “I was going to ask what brings you here but…” he points to Seokmin’s prized possession—aka not your heart but ironically placed right above it. His car. “Seems like I know what team you’re playing for.”

“I—” you clear your throat, unsure why you’re stuttering or trying to explain yourself. You’re allowed to be here, even if you’re rooting for another driver. “I, uh, I’m here for Seokmin.”

Wonwoo raises a brow playfully. “Really? Is that so?”

Chan lets out a laugh; it seems that when Seokmin is in the room, he feels more anxious on the topic of Wonwoo. But when Wonwoo is present and Seokmin is out of the equation, the weight of the burden on his shoulders lessens. “She’s Seokmin’s lucky charm.”

“Oh, wow,” Wonwoo crosses his arms with an amused expression. “I knew it was too good to be true for you to be single. Did I make that assumption too soon? I’m sorry if I was too forward, I—”

“Oh, she’s not with Seokmin like that.”

Tempted to whack Chan on the shoulder, he’s quick with his reflexes when he realizes he must’ve struck a chord. “Hey, hey, hey, I’m just stating the facts here!” He steps away from you. “You and him aren’t official, and probably won’t be for a while or even at all. I’m just saying, if Wonwoo here is shooting his shot, maybe let him aim for you, yeah?”

You narrow your gaze at the younger male. “Lee Chan.”

Wonwoo furrows his brows in confusion. “What am I missing’ at here?”

“She’s a hopeless romantic,” Chan adds, nudging you. “Seokmin said that if she’d wait for him, he’d come to her when he’s ready.”

Wonwoo clicks his tongue. “Sounds kinda fucked up.” It is fucked up, but what is also fucked up is that Chan is exposing you. What if Wonwoo has a certain perspective of you now? 

The stern tone in your voice when you call his name doesn’t feel threatening this time around, only because in his mind, he sees a new boyfriend candidate for you. Chan’s a brother you never had, a kid who wanted the best for the girl who was close enough to be his sister. He smiles, learning speedily that Wonwoo might be the first guy other than Seokmin to tug on your heartstrings. 

“I mean, Seokmin might not be happy about it but he’s never been mad at you, so I doubt you’ll piss him off,” Chan grins cheekily. “So, Wonwoo. How do you know my lovely friend?”

“We met at the bar last night,” Wonwoo begins, and although the answer was for Chan, his sparkling irises are on you. So… he wasn’t put off by the whole thing? “Clicked, hopefully hit it off, she gave me her number, and we had a nice talk over text. Needless to say, we talked all night.” He chuckles, finally breaking contact with you and glances over at Chan. “Probably explains the dark circles under my eyes, but definitely worth it. Even if she’s wearing merch from my competitor.”

With a hand slipping into your own back pocket, you roll your lips. Okay. He’s endearing. Somehow, he manages to get you to forget about Seokmin for a brief moment. 

Wonwoo zeroes in on you. “I don’t know about you, but I enjoyed our conversation. And I’m hoping that you’d be okay if I asked you on a date sometime… even if you have your reservations about taking it up because of him.”

Mouth slightly agape, the fear of the race dissipates from Chan. Instead, awe is replaced at the sight of you and Seokmin’s competition. Since when did you steal the heart of one of the best street racers? Even you have to mentally give yourself a pat on the shoulder for being able to swoon two desirable men. What is this? Some shitty written romance movie?

To be fair, you never really want to say yes when a guy asks you out. They’ve never given you a good reason to, especially when you had Seokmin on your mind most of the time. But for once, just this once, Wonwoo makes you forget. Somehow he fogs up your thoughts with him instead of the guy you’ve been waiting for so helplessly. It was to the point that you found yourself pathetic, even, but with Wonwoo, you don’t feel that way anymore.

He listens. And for someone who you only met for a day, he talked to you as if he’d known you for a lifetime. Wonwoo shared his deepest insecurities, his dreams, and the things and people he loved within those late hours. 

It’s more than Seokmin has ever done and he’d been your best friend for a while. 

“I’d… I think I’d like that.”

He sort of makes your heart skip a beat. “Great,” there was an excited bounce in his stance, “what’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do?”

“I don’t know, anything but changing a tire,” you say in a second, and Wonwoo laughs at your response. He’s really good at this whole ‘make a girl fall in love with me’ thing because your face heats up in embarrassment when you realize how lame your joke was. “… I’m just kidding. But I’ll let you make the plans.”

“Sure, I’ll plan the date.” Rolling his lips, he tilts his head to the side with a narrowed stare. “But, I should ask. Do you know how to change a tire?”

You shrug. “My best friend says if that ever happened, he’s a call away.”

“And if he’s not?”

“He will,” you answer, the tone in your words firm but underlying, the foundation of it is shaky. “He promised.”

There’s uneasiness in his expression, watching as you fiddle with your fingers as if you’re the one who feels uncertain about what you said. “Alright, if he says so. But uh,” he sneaks a glimpse at the television screen that displays on the side of the track, quickly patting Chan’s shoulder before giving the two of you a slight wave. “I gotta head out. I’ll talk to ‘ya later, yea?”

And with that, he disappears along with the crowd of people who begin to flood the arena with their tickets in hand and cups of beers in the other. Wonwoo was mysterious yet an open book in unison, and despite what people say about strangers at a bar, he doesn’t feel like one.

“Shit, before I interrogate you and Seokmin beats the shit out of us—well, me, he likes you—we gotta go. They’re preppin’ and I don’t wanna miss anything. I’m supposed to be the understudy and he’ll be so pissed if I’m late.” He’s stumbling to grab his belongings, “And he’s already dumb mad that I put whole milk instead of almond in his coffee this morning.”

Although the words are ready to leave the tip of your tongue, Chan bolts out of there faster than they could spill. 

Then it hits.

At the moment, it happens in the blink of an eye. The amount of anxiety that was churning through your stomach, and your heart racing at the speed of the cars on the track, you didn’t realize the mess you caught yourself in.

You agreed to go on a date with your best friend’s enemy.

But in all honesty, you didn’t think you’d be able to confront Wonwoo again and tell him that you couldn’t. He was so goddamn fucking charming, exhibiting manners that all the mothers around the world would praise him for. Anyone who would find out that you turned down a date with a guy like Wonwoo would probably give you an earful.

Then again, Seokmin might give you an earful. 

Maybe you won’t tell him.

It’s one date… right?

Plus, with Wonwoo being himself, there’s no way that Seokmin could actually be that annoyed with him. He spoke to Chan in such a respectful way, treated him like a younger classmate, and even expressed how proud he was of him for getting to where he is now. Seokmin couldn’t actually hate Wonwoo on the track. Couldn’t be possible.

That is until you saw living proof right in front of you.

Seokmin is tempted; fists clamped shut at his side, you see him inhale in a deep breath that juts his chest out. His nose does a little spasm, irritated even though he attempts to hold himself back. “Go back to where you belong.”

You find yourself back in Seokmin’s pit, expecting him to do his frequent routine before he hopped into the vehicle. Instead, he’s standing right outside of his car, face to face with Jeon Wonwoo who remains calm, cool, and collected, paying no mind that Seokmin is just inches away from driving his fist into Wonwoo’s cheekbone. It’s enticing, but Seokmin knows he can’t do it in public with thousands of people watching.

“Come on, Dokyeom, I’m allowed on the track,” he’s got a smug look on his face as he speaks. “It’s not like shit’s got your name outside the stadium. You don’t own it.”

“Dokyeom?” You reiterate, head turning from Wonwoo to Seokmin. “Why’s he calling you Dokyeom?”

Seokmin doesn’t break his stare on Wonwoo. Jaw clenched, teeth gritting, he even sucks in his cheeks in the heat of the moment with his fists fully balled by his sides. The fury in his eyes were burning flames that you fear would somehow spread into reality and burn the arena down. “Wonwoo, I thought you said you’d stay out of my way.”

“I never said anything,” the other male says tranquilly, zipping up his navy blue racing overalls up to his neck. In comparison to Seokmin, Wonwoo doesn’t have as many sponsors other than for three companies that barely had any fame to their name. “All I said was that I didn’t know if I'd make it up here with the big dogs. And well, look at me. Livin’ the dream. You should be proud of me, Kyeom, not throwing a bitch fit.”

“You fucking lied.”

“Why’s it matter?” Wonwoo queries, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. “Are you nervous? I thought you didn’t get nervous. Is it ‘cause you finally found someone with the equal amount of skill here? You can’t win forever, Kyeom-ie. One of these days, you gotta be kicked off that goddamn pedestal. Not a hot look for you.”

“Alright, alright,” you interject, pushing Seokmin’s (or was it Dokyeom’s) chest back to prevent him from making the first swing. “It’s almost time to start and I’d rather have you both behind the wheel without a bruised eye.”

“The only fucking bitch leaving here with a bruised face is him,” Seokmin hisses, but his body loosens the tenseness when he feels your touch. “Get off my turf, Jeon Wonwoo. You don’t belong here.”

And just on time, his name is written in bright letters across the television screens surrounding the arena. 

JEON WONWOO, RACER NUMBER FIVE. 

With a cocky grin, Wonwoo crosses his arms as he glances up at his name displayed and back on Seokmin. “It looks like everyone here begs to differ. See you on the track, Kyeomie.”

With an exasperated scoff, he tosses his gloves onto the ground. Wonwoo doesn’t bat a lash or even sneak a glance at the turmoil he leaves behind, instead he waltzes his way to his crew members who don’t dress in uniform as Seokmin’s team did.

“That jackass,” he hisses. “Does he fucking understand that this place isn’t for him?”

“Why’d he call you Dokyeom?” It’s bold of you to ask a question in the middle of his tantrum, but you’ve been patient enough. “I thought your real name was Seokmin.”

The anger still pulls on his features–he used to go soft for you. “It was a nickname I had.”

“From what?”

“Don’t ask,” he says curtly. “You don’t need to know my past—all you need to be is here. You’re my lucky charm and I need you here so I can win.”

With that, he slips his helmet on, flipping down the shield to cover his face. Ever since Wonwoo’s name was brought up in conversations, Seokmin’s demeanor changes and he doesn’t feel right; he isn’t quite the same person as he used to be. There’s something about Wonwoo that irritates him, and although he incessantly states that it’s because he’s a street racer, you think there’s more than what he lets out to be.

As told, you sit in the bleachers patiently, legs pressed together anxiously with your thermos filled with your coffee in hand, watching as Seokmin climbs into the driver’s seat of his vehicle. 

Like you’re supposed to. 

As you’re asked to.

Just as you always do.

There’s always this part of you that wonders: Is it worth waiting for a guy like Seokmin to notice you in the way you see him? During those late nights, the ones where he doesn’t go off into the sunset with a pretty girl under his arm, he lays underneath the stars with you, and reminds you that you’re the person that he wants to settle down with. Seokmin says he sees the two of you, on the porch with your rocking chairs of your future home with a big lawn, kids running on the grass with screams and laughter, sharing nothing but love for each other.

But each time he walks away with someone who isn’t you, the wait becomes more of a struggle.

It’s worse than waiting for the results of an exam that you know you failed, that feeling of being sick to your stomach and on the verge of vomiting. Your chest aches more than a sad, angsty romcom you’d watch back in your teenage years as if you’d experience the same heartbreak as the couples on the big screen. 

← you’re at the beginning | next chapter →

[throughtrialbyfire]

20 Questions for Writers

thank you so much to @wispstalk and @dirty-bosmer for tagging me!! <3

gonna tag @mareenavee @changelingsandothernonsense @thequeenofthewinter @skyrim-forever @trickstarbrave @oblivions-dawn @orfeoarte @gilgamish @totally-not-deacon @archangelsunited !! no pressure as always, and if i havent tagged you and you wanna do this, go ahead and say that i did, i'm tagging you in my mind <33

answering under the read more!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

five atm! but i'm planning on splitting my one-shot-as-chapters fic into individual fics. i think i'll have around 11, then, if i don't take out some.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

99,173

3. What fandoms do you write for?

TES and CoD Zombies! though i don't write a lot for CoD Zombies, just when i get in a certain mood for it here and there. old special interest wont grant me a moments peace lmao

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

i only have five uploaded, but i'll put them here!

1. An Inner Sanctity - 41 2. If By Sun and Moon I Swore - 38 3. Cycle of the Serpent - 23 4. The Mark You Left - 15 5. Portraits Under Forgotten Suns - 2 (this is the one i'm gonna split up into their own fics :3)

5. Do you respond to comments?

yes!! i even carry on convos in the comments sometimes for the hell of it, i love interacting with ppl <33333333

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i think the one-shot for the prompts "forgotten/devotion" for tesfest '23 about the shipwreck of the brinehammer, since the main character dies lmao

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

the one for the prompt "in bloom" from tesfest '23!! it was just a little fluff fic for my ocs athenath and ja'dato <3

8. Do you get hate on fics?

luckily no, the spaces i've found myself in these days are really positive :3 especially compared to when i wrote on FF.net in like 2009

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

none of it is published, but i do sometimes! it's a good way to flex my muscles (haha) in blending thought and action, balancing descriptors (how vivid is Too Much), and seeing how certain characters interact with each other in a vulnerable state. maybe i'll post some someday, idk. mostly i just do it for funsies, so idk what kind you'd classify any of mine.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

i havent in many years, so no, but that could chance if the mood strikes me

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope, but when i was writing for a different fandom in high school, my writing for a particular character wound up on ppls RP accounts as their versions backstory, as well.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no, but if anyone wants to translate my fics, feel free!! just give me a heads-up!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

yep, on my old ao3, a good friend and i turned an RP into a fic! i enjoyed it immensely bc we wrote really well together!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

idk, i just groove where the dynamics take me <3

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i hate to say it, but An Inner Sanctity needs a major overhaul that i don't have the energy for right now. when i started writing that fic, i didn't have a solid grasp on athenath's personality. now that i do, i'm gonna need to rewrite all the chapters i've had ready for it, and pivot the direction of the fic to get it where i wanted it to wind up eventually. i really do want to finish it, though.

16. What are your writing strengths?

i get a lot of compliments on my imagery/descriptions/atmosphere! i love describing shit, so i'm glad ppl enjoy reading those bits of my work <3 oh!! and character/narrative details. i wrote a ~180k word fic in my senior year of high school solely off my mental notes for it, and it still wasnt finished when i dropped it a year or so later due to Circumstances

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

biting off WAAAAAAAY more than i can chew!! i have so, so many things planned for CotS and who knows if those things will get picked up on by folks or even work later down the line. GAHH

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

if you can realistically do it, go for it. if i could fluently speak all the languages i've tried to teach myself, i'd probably include them in fics where they would fit!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

naruto, i was writing naruto fics on a defunct dress-up site when i was a kid AHAH.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Cycle of the Serpent. theres seldom a time i'm not thinking about those elves. yes, i will admit with my whole chest that i'm a tad desperate for people to read it and interact with it, but i think if i could explain everything (without spoiling it obviously) i have planned for this fic and just how much is going on in the background of the details i throw in, the reasons certain characters behave the way they do, and the amount of time i've spent working on it (the doc for it is at roughly ~96k and we're not even at the Real beginning of the solitude arc) and the sheer amount of hours i've spent making sure details line up, you'd understand why i'm losing all my sanity daniel-amnesia-the-dark-descent style over this story. i started writing it as a for fun "no one's ever gonna see this" exercise that also helped me greatly in recovering from long covid brainfog, and i think even if one day i look back and think of it as "not the best thing i've ever written", it'll still be one of the most passion-driven things i've ever written, and i'm happy about that. <3

woof, what a ramble. if you made it to the end of this, thank you, and i hope you're having a good day!!

[amidstnamjin-and-binchanlix]

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Warnings: Uhhh. Non-graphical smut and slight angst, but that's pretty much it for now since I'm still crafting the next part, and some curse words lmao.

I won't control you, but MDNI. This is not for you, please.

Pairings: OT7/(F) Reader

Plot: Seven dates that has a significant mark in your life, one of which massively tilted and fucked up your world for good.

Seven men you didn't want to have more significance in your life than they already have for each of those dates you desperately want to forget.

Genre: mutual pining (ik, ik, i'm sorry), light angst, denial of feelings, eventual poly ot7

placeholder: avoust xxix - óutobre xxxi - nouvèmbre xv - desèmbre xxvi - febrié xxiii - mai xiii - juliet xxii

this is not my first dabble at the bts fandom but this was my first bangtan fic i posted in ao3 2 years ago bc i was a baby army (and my first bangtan creation [not the mixtape series] one is still unfinished and unposted wkwkwkw) so pls be kind to me uwu n i don't really have army moots so if you wanna, come say hi to me on twitter @shimaeara (i don't use it for now because i have no moots there yet) this fic is fucking self-serve and was written without sleep and came to me after reading a fucking drarry slowburn and binge listening to Moonchild and continued after weeks(months) of procrastination and am not good at smut so i might not be able to write it graphically for now idk sorry (edit, 2023: I can write smut now lmao but im still not good at it so i'll try!!!!) artists mentioned are not mine and own themselves. only my original character is self-made, and portrayal and descriptions are in no way real and did not happen in life. everything is entirely fictional not beta'd so i take full responsibility for each and every mistake, my existence included.

i'm reposting this right now because of the date in my country (and a happy birthday to my irl bestfriend, allain. hope you're happy wherever you are, fucker

aight imma head out

💜 You're not aware of the date today.

You wake up unusually early. It's ironic—everything today seems to be, and it's only six in the morning. That in itself should've clued you in because never in a million years would you wake up at five fucking thirty ahead of your alarm, and a weekend at that.

No one dare wake you up voluntarily before seven safest, not after that incident with an overly-hyper Joji that resulted in him sporting a black eye and split lip for a week. No hard feelings were had; you've been bestfriends with him during the past few years since he became your client at the villa. It was resolved with a quick fuck before you even got out of bed. Everybody pretended that the scratches on his back were—ahem—inflicted during the fight.

Pft. Sure.

He has since left residence, but he still flounces around whenever his schedule allows, the motherfucker. You should remind him to bring his own food next time because he cleansweeps the fridge every time.

Your mood has been off since you opened your eyes. You lie there for a few minutes before you realize that it's still kind of dark outside, and a quick check of your phone informs you of the time.

5:36 am

Huh. That's fucking early.

You rub at your chest softly, wondering where the hollow sinking feeling is coming from and what roused you from your sleep. Granted that yes, you're not the most mentally healthy person, but the feeling is different from usual. Almost worse.

You try to go back to sleep but right as you were about to drift off, your bladder decides to kick in. Groaning, you roll out of bed and pad sleepily to your bathroom to do your business with closed eyes, trying not to let go of your sleepiness. Of course, that proves futile. You aren't able to fall right back to sleep after that. Normally, you'd have no problem jumping right back to snoozing, but again, irony.

When trying prove to be useless, you decide to get up. On the way down, you forget to take your phone with you, and you ain't going back to sixth ass floor when you're already on the second. You continue onward and bump into Shads. "Morning, Matt."

He looks at you in trepidation, and you laugh lightly at his expression. Nobody dare forget that you're not a morning person. "Hey, Y/N."

"Relax, I'm not gonna punch you." He laughs at that and visibly relaxes.

"You're up early," he comments.

"Yeah. I don't even know why, and I can't go back to sleep now anyways so..."

He nods. "Well, I'm just turning in. Need to catch some sleep before we fly later."

"Fun night?" You ask.

He snorts at that with a laugh as he turns away to walk to his room. "Wish. Had to be at the studio to fix some things."

"Aw, you poor baby."

"Fuck off."

You both laugh and walk away; him towards his room, and you towards the kitchen. "Sleep well. I'll make sure the car will be here later for you guys."

"Thanks, babe."

You feel it again while you are making myself a cup of hot chocolate at the communal kitchen. You have a love-hate relationship with coffee, so you don't drink it that much. You thump your chest lightly with a slight grimace, the feeling almost crushing now. Your heart is racing and you don't know why, hands shaking as you grip the counter and try to breathe through your mouth.

"Y/N?"

You look up to see Jin in his pajamas, blinking at you owlishly. "Hey, Jin." Your grimace morphs into an awkward smile and you put your arms to your side in fear that he might've seen it—he did.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you say, ignoring the heavy pounding feeling in your chest. He doesn't look convinced. "You're up early."

He shakes his head. "This is my usual waking time. You're early."

Well, you don't have a rebut for that.

"Are you sure you're okay, Y/N?" he asks again when you stay silent.

"Yeah." You will yourself to calm down, even though it's obviously unsuccessful. "I think I'm just having a heartburn."

He raises an eyebrow at that, clearly not buying your lie. He decides to spare you instead. "You shouldn't be having hot chocolate then; that will just trigger it more. Sit. I'll make us some tea."

"No, no, it's okay! I'm fine." You try to argue, but you quickly shut up when he narrows his eyes at you. You wait in awkward silence as he prepares the tea and starts making breakfast, possibly for his friends. Once it was done, you thank him and turn to go back to your room.

"Where are you going?" he asks, spatula raised from where he is cooking.

"Back to my room?"

He shakes his head. "No, you sit. I'm making breakfast anyway."

"But I—"

"Are you really this stubborn?" When you remain silent, he hums and goes back to cooking "That's what I thought. Now sit down."

And what choice do you have?

"Do you take any medicines?" he asks after a few minutes of silence.

"...no?"

"Not even for anxiety? Or anything?"

Wow. What happened to sparing you? You shake your head no. He just raises his brows at that and (mercifully) changes the topic. "What are you doing today?"

"Nothing. It's my first break in months, so I think I might just sleep all day and stay in bed. I don't know." You shrug. "How 'bout you guys? Do you have promotions today?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. We're all preparing for Jungkook's birthday. It's in three days."

Wait. Jungkook's birthday is September 1.

You stop at that, the cup of tea paused from where you were just about to take a drink. "T-three days?" You ask shakily as he puts some food on a plate and places it down in front of you, unaware of your inner turmoil. The food smells amazing, but you don't think you can handle eating right now.

"Yeah. It's 29 today, isn't it?" Jin takes his phone that was on the counter and checks, then puts the phone back down. "It is. We're gonna prepare a surprise for him."

Fuck.

"That's good," you say, trying not to show how your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest. He smiles at you and turns back to where he's cooking.

So that's why you've been feeling off since you woke up. 29th. It's the 29th of August today.

You finish your food with difficulty but you don't show it to him to not be ungrateful. His cooking is great, but your mind is really just elsewhere today. "Thanks for the breakfast. And uh, the tea." You clear your throat as you finish washing your plate.

"No biggie." He smiles brightly and you almost forget—almost.

"Have fun today with your plans. I'll be"—you swallow as you leave the room almost hurriedly, and Jin finally notices your distress—"I'll be in my room if you guys need something from me."

You hear him ask if you were really okay but you ignore it, almost tripping on your way out. You don't know you've been holding your breath until you let it out as you reach your room and flop uselessly on your bed. You can't even cry at this rate. You've spent so long crying that it left you tearless and empty. When you try to look deeper, the pain is crippling that you can't even move to shed a tear. It feels like being suspended mid-air in a dark void with that feeling that you might fall anytime, only you don't know when and if the fall will finally kill you.

You spend the whole day in bed with minimal to no human interaction. Matt swung by midday and thanked you with a hug before the band left. It will be hours later when someone knocks on your door again.

It's Namjoon.

"Y/N?"

You're tempted to not answer him. While yes, your closeness with him and his group came a long way from just them being your clients, you still don't feel comfortable with giving them the burden of trying to deal with your tragedies and discomfort. He calls your name again with a light knock before you amble to the door weakly, opening it just an inch. "Hey."

You smile at him, but it's clear as day that you aren't really feeling it. "Hey, Namjoon."

"Are you okay?" He pauses, then shakes his head. "No, you're obviously not. Can I come in?"

And of course, he can.

One thing you like about him is his maturity and perceptiveness. With the chaos that comes with his group, Namjoon keeps them tethered. You love their group, you really do. But when the energy becomes too much, you're thankful because he always senses your need to slow down and calms them. Maybe it's the same reason you're drawn to him the most out of all of them. All you know is it isn't just a plain crush on such a charming person anymore. When you spend a lot of time with someone so kind and wonderful, their looks become just a fucking bonus. Every time you look at him your heart won't stop racing, and it's the exhilarating type that makes you sweat and puts the coil in your stomach.

You both sit on the bed, pulling up the covers as he sits a respectable distance from you.

"Hyung told me what happened," he says at last. Your stomach drops at that. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Do you want to?

With your silence, he continues. "I understand if you don't want to. Just know that we're here for you." Then softly, "I'm here for you."

Your heart stutters, but you keep your face neutral by giving him a soft smile. "Thank you, Namjoon."

After a few minutes, he asks, "Is it because of Jungkook?"

"What?"

"Jin-hyung said you ran away when he mentioned our surprise for Jungkook." There is an emotion you can't name that briefly flits through his face before it smooths out to curiosity. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"No!" At his surprised face, you backtrack. "No," you say in a much softer voice. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"I—"

"Noona!"

Wow. Speak of the devil and all that jazz.

Jungkook bursts through the door, completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere in the room. Or if he does, he doesn't comment on it. "My favorite Noona~!" He climbs on the bed and sits beside you.

Your eyes flit to Namjoon, and you nearly miss the sharp look he gives him when Jungkook lies with his head on your lap. You snort at Jungkook's antics, a slow smile spreading to your lips.

"I bet you say that to all your noonas," you tease, to which Jungkook splutters.

"No, I don't!" He turns to Namjoon. "Tell her, hyung."

"I—what?"

"That she is my favorite noona!"

"You do say that to all your noonas, Kook." Namjoon deadpans.

"Hyung!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." Namjoon laughs. "Everyone knows you love Y/N the most."

"Yeah! Don't be jealous though, hyung." Jungkook chides, a crimson blush slowly spreading over Namjoon's cheeks. "We all know you love her the most."

"Hey—!"

"By the way," Jungkook back turns to you and ignores Namjoon's protesting, "we're all going out later. Want to come with?"

"Uh," you awkwardly scratch the back of your head. "I don't know, Jungkook. I—"

"Please?" He pulls his infamous doe eyes that makes it hard to refuse. While you normally don't have an issue with going out, you're not feeling up for it today. Especially not today of all days.

Your mind drifts to your old friends.

It's been seven years since they'd all been gone, but the memory is still fresh. For the past few years, you'd celebrated this day—all their birthdays—cradling a bottle of whatever liquor you get your hands on. You'd plow through bottle after bottle, glass after glass, trying to forget that you would have been celebrating with them had that day not happened. Then, you'd come home and sob yourself to sleep and pass out from being drunk because them being gone meant your alcohol tolerance was suddenly gone too.

"Y/N?" You snap out of your trance and see both men looking at you in confusion. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah." The hollow feeling intensifies and you feel a little nauseous, but you shake it off. "Sorry, what was that again?"

"Do you want to come with us later?" Jungkook's mood subdues at your lost expression, concern marring his pretty face. "But you can say no if you don't want to!"

You know they really wouldn't force you to come with them if you say no. They never once made you feel like you have no choice with the shenanigans they drag you into.

Then you think about what Alex would probably say if he's still here, what all of them would say. They'd kick your ass for stopping yourself from celebrating and getting wasted. They'd tell you that you need to try to forget even just for a day, and that drinking a whole ass bar is one way to do it. They would probably say some shit about honoring them by getting shitfaced.

"Okay," you say weakly.

The two men looks at you apprehensively.

"Are you sure, Y/N? We really wouldn't mind."

You nod. "It's fine. I'm sure it'll be fun."

"It will be!" Jungkook says excitedly. "I'll make sure it is."

And make sure, he does.

Eight pm rolls around and you're ready to head out with them. You don't want to risk them being seen with someone who'll just drag their image down so as much as it pains you, you actually do put effort in dressing up and looking presentable. Normally, you would just wear the most comfortable outfit. You can't risk that tonight, however. You're going out with people who has all eyes on them. Being associated with someone who looks remotely like a trash can would do nothing good for their image, although you know they could care less about that.

"Noona, you read...y?" You turn around in time to see Jungkook's Adam's apple bob in his throat. His eyes rakes your figure and you can't help the slight flush in your cheeks when you meet his intense gaze.

"Am I overdressed?" You try to joke, but it feels weak. He shakes his head, cheeks a lovely shade of pink.

"You look wonderful, noona ." He mutters under his breath, "too wonderful."

"What?"

He ignores that, giving you a blinding smile. "Shall we go?"

You feel baffled by his actions, but nod at him nonetheless. "Lemme just put on my shoes." You turn around and miss his eyes go wide when you bend over to slip on your pumps. He subtly adjusts himself through his pants and tears his eyes away from your ass before you can catch him staring. "Let's go?"

"Y-yeah." He clears his throat. "Hyungs are all waiting downstairs."

"Are you sure you're okay?" You ask. You walk over to him and put your hand on his forehead, unaware of his inner turmoil at the skin contact.

He catches your hand, and you gasp at his intense stare. A few seconds pass and he squeezes your hand before letting go.

"I'm okay." He then smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Let's go?"

--

You've already lost track of how many drinks you've consumed tonight. The corner of the bar was the perfect place and you made a beeline for it straight away once you spot it, unaware of Namjoon's eyes that were trained on you the whole time. You know you probably should've stuck with the others but you know your presence wouldn't be missed that much, so you stay put. You just left when you had enough turning down unwanted attention. Seriously, can't they all get a fucking hint?

"There you are!"

You startle as you feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn around and Jungkook stands there with a dopey smile. You assume he's on the way to being drunk now, but you really can't tell. "Y/N! I've been looking for you everywhere."

Obviously not everywhere. "Sorry, Kookie. I was just at the bar."

His smile gets wider at the pet name. "Kookie?"

"Oh, I mean—"

"I like it." He takes your hand with a slight tug. "Come on, let's go find the others."

You let him lead you and weave through the throng of partygoers. You feel the warmth of his hand on yours and fixate on it. Too much, that you don't know where he's leading you until the sounds of music gets muffled and muted. There's a firm click and thud, and you're being pushed against the door. His lips are on yours before you can even comprehend what's happening.

It takes you a few seconds to realize that you're kissing back. Weakly at first, you try to push him off you until he takes the hint.

His lips detach from yours and he pulls away, breathing heavily. His profile is illuminated by the purple light of the room, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest from catching his breath.

"What are we doing?" You ask him, eyes wide.

"Nothing you won't consent to."

You look at each other wordlessly. He steps back a little from you and removes his hands on your hips. You realize that he's giving you an out if you want to, but that you really don't want him to give you an out.

The last part scares you.

"I won't force you to anything you don't want to," he says gravelly. "You can always say no."

"What if I don't want to?" You mumble. "Say no, that is."

He looks confused for a moment. When it dawns on him, however, his lips pull into a slow devilish smirk. Goosebumps follow his fingers on your skin.

"Then we do whatever you want."

It's all a blur after that.

His lips find yours again, hands seeking the curve of your hips. He trails kisses on your cheeks down to your neck and chest, and sucks bruises that make you gasp out loud as your hands tangle in his silky hair. They don't slack grip as you guide him down right where you want his mouth and hands.

He takes you twice; first is when he pounds you from behind. Your hair is fisted in his hands as he pulls on it, and your eyes roll back in pleasure.

He thrusts deeper when you moan loud. "Stay quiet, noona," the honorific sounding sinful from his lips. You keen when he grinds his hips and hit that wonderful spot.

The second is with your legs wrapped around his waist, arms on his shoulder. You can feel the pulse of his cock inside you with every savage thrust, and it makes you forget what it is you're running from. Half-crescent scratches are etched on his shoulders as you grip him tightly when you come, his hips stuttering in rhythm as his own orgasm crashes through him when you tighten around him.

Once you both finally catch your breath, he puts you down gently and fixes the creases on your dress.

"I'm taking this home," he says and pockets your panties. You don't have it in you to protest. Instead, you settle on rolling your eyes at him with a placid smile.

"I think you fucked the sad out of me," you say as your breathing calms to normal. You run your fingers through his hair and he kisses your wrist. "Thank you, Kookie. Happy birthday."

He pulls you into a tender hug, pressing a kiss on your hair. "Love you, Y/N."

You don't respond, don't need to. You know he feels it with how you fix his appearance and ruffle his hair as you lead him out of the room, totally unaware of a set of eyes that follow you both on your way out.

[screechingkroh]

Okay, so, I’m sorry if this pushes any boundaries, but I noticed/read that you are on the AroAce spectrum, specifically relating to/feeling most comfortable with the label “Acesexual” and “demiromantic”.

I was wondering on how/what you felt when finding yourself? I believe I am also within the aroace spectrum, but back in HS I kind of gaslight myself into “liking” someone when all my friends would tease/push me into believing it as well? And the thought of actually being intimate with said person disgusted me, even when I imaged it to be someone else? (Not like they were hideous or anything, but the thought of being intimate with an irl person makes me uncomfortable even though fictional stuff is fine)

SO sorry if this is too personal and pushes your boundaries, please ignore it/trash it if it does!!!

Love your work!!! /srs

Sincerely, a confused 19yo

Oh! No, this isn’t pushing boundaries whatsoever!

I kind of did the same thing back in HS. When my friends would talk abt their active sex lives or of sexual pleasure, I felt confused as to why I never felt interested in doing it. It got to the point where I, too, tried to gaslight myself .

What made me realize that I was Asexual was when I didn’t enjoy the idea of physically having sex. In theory, it sounds funky and cool and I can make the raunchiest most nastiest smut that my friends have ever read. But in practice, it makes me uncomfortable and I feel sick. It confused me and it didn’t help that a lot of people would say those annoying ass comments. “You haven’t met the right one” or “you’ll feel it eventually.” And may the gods forbid every time I had someone say that “something isn’t right” or “you’re not normal” or something akin to that. It’s what had me panic and even get insecure my being.

I came to terms to it after I had found out one of my friends was Aromantic. They gave me a major pep talk and even told me that sexual attraction and romantic attraction are different. Which was the one thing that worried because I do experience romantic feelings but never understood why I never had sexual feelings. Honestly, I’m still thankful for him even if we don’t talk as much anymore.

Figuring out I was Demiromantic was easier than finding out I was ace. It takes me years to like someone— I had a crush on my best friend but it only formed after knowing them for four years. And that’s how most of my crushes went! With a lot of searching, I found out I was considered Demiromantic as the closest term and felt happy with it! Granted, I had the sad experience of my father stating that it’s a made up and not real but… that’s a him issue. Not mine.

Finding what you identify with is a long journey that can even stay until you pass. Either way, you’re completely valid for how you feel and you’re most definitely not alone. Just remember that in the end you’re still you no matter what!

I wasn’t fully in terms with who I was until last year ngl. It took me so long to accept that I was in the aroace spectrum because I was conditioned into believing those are what I should— need, even— to feel. It’s not. You aren’t obligated to feel romantic attraction or sexual attraction. Both of those do not need to be evident within your life whatsoever and that’s completely fine.

It does sound like you’re pretty deep in the aroace spectrum! Which is valid! Don’t ever force yourself to be in a relationship bc then it’s already toxic before it even started. “If it costs you your peace, it’s too expensive” as I tend to say.

Just remember; you’re you and that’s amazing. There’s only one you out there and you should wear it with pride. If someone does something, don’t hesitate to use spite as your fuel! So long as it doesn’t consume you :)

[seriouslysnape]

Hi i would like to request severus x reader where its their first time together and reader guides sev bc he‘s a virgin ?

Okay, so I’ve been putting this one off. It’s such a good idea, I wasn’t sure how to tackle it. However, I’ve been thinking on it for a few days, and I think I did this request justice!

__

A Fast Learner

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Smut.

Word Count: 3,066

“Shh. It’s okay.”

__

He had become very self conscious about it over the years. Well, he was self conscious about a lot of things, but especially something like this. It was embarrassing that he had made it this far in life and had never been intimate with someone. He knew it was mainly his own fault. He had spent his life saving himself for someone who wasn’t even around anymore, and someone who never loved him the way he did her. 

Now, he was well into his adulthood years and he had yet to have sex with anyone. He had quite honestly accepted long ago that he’d never allow anyone to take his virginity. To most people, a person at his age with their so-called “v-card” still intact was odd and even a bit weird. Even if he did find someone he cared enough about, he would have NO idea what to do and it would be so off-putting that they’d likely run for the hills. Severus, as disappointed as he was, was convinced he’d live out the rest of his days as a virgin. 

That was until he fell in love with you.

He admittedly didn’t expect it. You seemed rather average to him in the beginning. He failed to see how you were any different than anybody else he had ever encountered. The more time he spent with you, though, the more he saw in you. You were probably one of the most patient and understanding people he had ever met. You were an efficient communicator and an even better listener. You were a picture perfect person. He eventually found himself in a relationship with you that exceeded having dinner and private talks in each other’s offices. 

For the first time in Severus Snape’s life, he had a steady girlfriend. 

As thrilling and exciting as that was, it also caused a whole new set of worries for him. Having a girlfriend meant that he was going to have to be fully intimate at some point. It wasn’t something he could keep putting off the way he had been. You had a gut feeling that Severus had never had sex before. At first, you brushed his hesitation off to just being nervous. However, you began to notice the way he visibly would shrink away any time your make out sessions began to heat up. If nothing else, it explained why your relationship seemed to move at an aggravatingly tortuous pace. 

He’d become fidgety when you tried to reach for his belt or when your giggles turned into breathy moans. He would simmer down the situation before it could ever evolve into more, which he hated to do. He knew you were dismayed whenever he did so. You were a beautiful, young woman who had needs. It wasn’t fair that you had to push your needs aside because of him. He definitely didn’t want you to begin to think that it had something to do with you. 

He had never told you upfront that he was a virgin, and he hoped that maybe he would never have to. Whenever he did build up the courage to make love, perhaps he could get away with not saying anything. That dream was rather short lived when you finally questioned him one night after he turned you away once more. 

You had been snuggled up next to him on the sofa in his living quarters, just chatting after a long day when your kisses became a little more heated and you ultimately ended up in his lap. Your knees were on either side of him so you were in a straddle position, kissing him with passion and desire. He kissed back as always, but you could feel the hint of uncertainty as his lips worked with yours. You kept in mind that this was usually the part where he’d stop you or get himself out of it. Still, you rolled your hips downwards into his crotch, your fingers finding his belt and beginning to unbuckle it. 

As expected, he stopped kissing you and gently gripped your wrist. That was his signal for you to stop, to which you would normally just smile reassuringly and move on. However, you pulled your hand from his grasp and rested both of them on his shoulders. 

You were intently looking at him, reading his guilt-stricken expression.

“Severus,” You began; “Is there something you want to tell me?”

He knew exactly what you meant. It was only a matter of time before you began to question him. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He said, letting the lie slip through his teeth.

You never averted your eyes from him. He wasn’t leaving until you obtained some answers. You wrapped a lock of his charcoal colored hair around your finger and twirled it mildly. 

“Most men barely wait for their girlfriend to make a move on them. With you, it seems like you don’t want me like that.” You pointed out.

Severus was quick to answer, because this was exactly the thing he didn’t want you to think.

“No, no. I do. I really do.” He said truthfully.

Make no mistake, Severus did want to have that level of intimacy with you. He just couldn’t push himself to that point. He never wanted to disappoint you in any way, and he just knew his skills were probably little to none. You were confused at his response.

“Then why do you always push me away when I try?” You queried.

He sighed heavily. It was a fair question for you to ask. He would’ve probably asked the same if he were in your shoes. It was humiliating, but he knew he couldn’t hide it any longer. He took a breath and told you that he was a virgin. He half expected you to get up and walk out or go tell every living soul you knew. Instead, you smiled kindly and let out a soft laugh that wasn’t at all intended to be a mock towards his confession. He clenched his teeth as he awaited your reply. You moved your right hand to cup the side of his face.

“Oh, Severus...is that all?” You asked sweetly.

A feeling of surprise and relief fizzled through his body. He had been waiting for a much heavier, dramatic reaction. 

“Well, I...it’s not really something I thought I’d ever tell you.” He explained, avoiding your gaze.

“You didn’t think you could keep it from me forever, did you?” You wondered. He didn’t respond, so you went on; “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I can help you.” 

He let out an irritated huff. You could tell he was beyond embarrassed.

“You shouldn’t have to.” He said.

You kissed his forehead, encouraging him to embrace the situation a little. 

“I want to. It’ll benefit more than just me. Your first time should be special. I want to make it special,” You acknowledged; “But only if you want to. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

He was at a crossroads here. He wanted to do this, but he was still nervous. There were a million ways he could go wrong and mess up, but he also never thought there’d be anyone willing to offer a hand to him as an adult virgin. He realized that he loved you too much to keep treating you this way...so he agreed. He couldn’t help but nervously chuckle at your blinding smile. You were eager to teach him. He’d be a master in no time. 

“I promise we’ll go slow.” You declared, whipping your shirt off of your head. 

Severus felt a surge of heat go through his body at your breasts that were now VERY prevalent to him. His eyes widened and his stare lingered on them like a kid in a candy store. He looked over the black, lacy material of your bra and how it perfectly accented them. His cheeks burned a fiery red that he tried to hide, but to no avail. You bit your bottom lip to hold back a smile.

“Blushing already, Professor?” You asked teasingly. 

If he was already this flustered, you couldn’t wait to see him when you got to the good stuff. His eyes snapped back to yours, he sheepishly apologized.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

You hushed him, putting a finger to his lips.

“Shh. It’s okay.” 

You took his hands, bringing them around to your back. You maneuvered his fingers to unclasp your bra, and you slowly pushed the straps down your arms until it fell to the floor. His cheeks turned a darker shade of red now that you were fully exposed to him. He didn’t even try to confine his stare now. You spoke softly. 

“You can touch them if you want.” You granted.

“Touch them?” He asked.

You giggled lightly.

“Yeah, S. With your hands...or your mouth.”

He decided to go with the first option, not confident enough in his skills yet. His hands were trembling a tad, as he brought them up to your chest. He was awkward at first, sort of just fondling with them in an amateurish way. Your nipples grew hard at the feeling of his large hands on your soft skin. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he leaned forward and took one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucked firmly and swirled his tongue over your breast. A satisfied gasp fell from your lips, startling him and causing him to stop.

“Are you alright? Did that hurt?” He asked frantically.

You let out another laugh.

“Sev, I was moaning.” You told him.

He shyly grinned.

“Oh.” 

He took your nipple into his mouth again, his confidence slowly but surely beginning to build. You brought a hand to the back of his head.

“Kiss my neck.” You instructed.

He nodded, moving his lips up to your neck and kissed where you guided his head to go. You grinded your hips down onto his lap, a groan falling from his throat. You could feel his growing erection through his pants. You smirked, knowing the real show was about to begin. 

“Let’s move to the bedroom.” You said, persuading him up from the sofa.

You took him by the hand, leading him to his large bed. You debated for a moment over what the best approach to this was. You thought for a minute that maybe it would be best if he stayed on the bed and you rode him, but you figured that he wouldn’t learn much out of that, however it would be pleasurable for him. You wanted his first time to be special, as you had previously mentioned. You decided to go traditional missionary, that way you could talk him through it. 

You laid on your back, laughing at the way Severus was ogling over you. You motioned for him with your finger, and he timidly climbed onto the bed. He instinctively placed one of his knees on either side of you, which was a good start. 

“Move down a little.” You requested. 

He shifted down a bit so you could unfasten his belt and his pants. He helped you get them off, throwing them aside. You did away with your skirt and panties, now fully naked in front of him. He was fully hard now, your hand palming at his evident erection. He let out a soft groan, feeling amazed at how he had never been touched by anyone else like this before. 

He sprang free once his boxers were thrown aside to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Your eyes gazed at his length, raking him over. You snapped out of your trance, taking him into your hand. You stroked slowly and softly, just enough so he could see how it felt.

You knew this was going to be a tedious process for the first time, you didn’t want to completely overwhelm him and ruin it for him. He let out a stuttered sigh at the feeling of his dick in your hand. He had of course rubbed himself like this before, but it was totally different when it was being done to him. His sounds were alone enough to make your sex become slick with wetness, but you reached for one of his free hands.

“Take these two fingers,” You said, pushing his side three fingers down, just leaving his middle and ring finger. You brought his fingers to your heated sex; “Now, just gently-”

You were stunned when he began rubbing in circles, slowly but firmly. You wriggled underneath him, not prepared for him to do it so well. You let out a groan at the waves of pleasure building through you, he kept his eyes on you with a rather concerned expression. He was still afraid of hurting you or messing up. 

You stopped stroking him, taking his wrist and directing his fingers towards your clit. He knew he had hit the spot when you breathed out his name in a way he had never heard you before.

“Severus...” You exhaled.

He felt a burst of pride. Maybe he really could get the hang of this. He could feel the wetness spreading around his fingers, which is when you knew to stop him and move on with your instructions. You were beginning to realize that Severus was a fast learner. He’d have this in no time. You were a little breathless now, which swelled him with even more confidence.

“Take one of my legs and wrap it around your waist.” You said.

He took your right thigh into his hand, securing and hooking your leg around him. He noted that was how he’d be sure that you wouldn’t get too far from him. He was beginning to put pieces together.

“Okay, when you’re ready just push yourself in. Go slow at first.” You said, lining him up with your entrance. 

His tip just barely was touching you, he looked to you, stricken with a bit of panic.

“[Y/N], I don’t want to hurt you.” He said, registering that this was the part he was most scared of.

You shook your head. Half in desperation for him and half to reassure him. You put his hands on your hips so he’d be steady once he did start to move. 

“You’re not going to hurt me, Sev. I promise,” You said truthfully; “Just go at your pace. I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

You knew it wouldn’t, but it made him feel better to hear you say it. He took a breath, and leisurely pushed himself in as far as he could. You both let out a synchronous moan. He didn’t move for a second, wrapping his head around how damn good this felt. You didn’t expect him to stretch and fill you the way he did, so you were a little scattered when you spoke next.

“S-Sev, pull out a little, and then go back in again.” You said.

He gingerly pulled out, and went back in. He watched each time he moved in and out. He saw the way your eyelashes fluttered each time he went back in, and how your grip on his bicep tightened. You weren’t used to such a slow speed, but you didn’t want him to go fast if he didn’t feel like he could yet. However, you did try to convince him to pick it up a little.

“A little faster. If you want.” You said, really hoping he’d get the hint. 

He did get it, and began to rock his hips faster, filling in the pauses that he had been taking between tortuous thrusts. He had figured out a rhythm now, his movements becoming monotonous, but gloriously good. He watched as your breasts bounced each time he pounded back into you, and how your mouth fell open with noises that were music to his ears. 

You knew Severus was getting the hang of it, so you gave him another request.

“Take my leg and put it on your shoulder.” 

He gave you a puzzled look, thinking that there was no way that would actually do anything. Still, he draped your leg over his shoulder and he thought he might just collapse. He was slamming into you at a new angle that was a total game changer, and created a whole new feeling of pleasure. 

He knew sex was supposed to feel good, but he never thought it would feel THIS good. It was a bit of an accident, but he rotated his hips and you let out a high-pitched shriek that even he couldn’t mistake as a bad sound. You smirked at how he was now hitting your sensitive spot each time he went back in.

“Severus, you feel so good. Holy- yes, that’s perfect.” You cried out.

He didn’t dare speed up or slow down, if he had it right, he wasn’t going to mess with it. He continued to pound into you, alerted when he felt himself twitch inside of you. He assumed that meant that something was happening. Your own inner coil was growing hot, which was a delight to you, because you honestly weren’t sure at first if you would even finish since it was his first time. You arched your back to meet his thrusts, both of your releases coming quickly.

“Darling, I think I’m about to-” He was cut off by another one of your moans.

He felt the muscles in your leg contract, as you came around him. He thrusted a few more times before he did as well. A flash flood crashed over every nerve in his body. Your arms rested above your head as your chest heaved with each inhale. He slid out of you, falling next to you on the mattress. His head was spinning.

He had just lost his virginity. Something he had kept so private and locked away. He thought that maybe he’d be a little sad, but he wasn’t. He was beyond joyed to have lost it to someone he cared about so much. He leaned over, kissing your neck and nibbling on your earlobe.

“How...how was that?” He asked, a little apprehensive to hear your answer.

You looked over at him, a flashy smile and a voice full of honesty.

“Severus Snape,” You said; “You are one fast learner.”

[littlemisslipbalm]

“Similar Tastes” Pt. 2

Summary: After Harry and you leave the bar, you can’t stop fighting, but it leads to one of the best nights of your life

Did someone order smut with a side of smut and an extra topping of SMUT?!? because that’s what we’ve got and some cuteness at the end but holy shit.

You guys were so awesome about part 1 and then I got some requests to do a smutty part 2 so ENJOY, this sealed my fate to hell so yeah bahah. - not proofread bc the app is trash and posted before I was ready

Word Count: 3.8k | Warnings: SMUT, slight degradation kink?, daddy kink, it’s not as dirty as i thought it was now that i’m writing this warning

Pt. 1

-

“Ouch! Can you scoot back?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously! I cannot believe you.”

You and Harry hadn’t made it the entire short trip back to his house without fighting. Despite how completely hot you were for each other, the bickering just never seemed to end. Now you were straddling his lap still inside his parked car in his driveway. You had decided kissing would cut out the talking, but now your ass was shoved uncomfortably against his steering wheel and you were feeling extremely crushed rather than sexy. And Harry wouldn’t move.

Harry’s lips peeled off of the side of your neck and glared up at you, “Let’s just go inside.”

You huffed, “Yeah, this isn’t working.”

He popped open the car side door and you climbed off of him and adjusted your top that now had your tits spilling out of it. Harry grinned at the sight, “Don’t need to put those away now, love, ‘bout to see it all soon.”

“Not if you keep speaking to me like that.” You began to stalk up to Harry’s front door, crossing your arms with your head held high. You had begun to question why you had agreed to go home with Harry when he truly could be a total jerk. He jogged to catch up with you and when he reached your side, his large hand landed a slap on your ass and you remembered why, he made you horny.

“Don’t be like that…” He whispered close to your ear and you bucked your head into his shoulder in response.

After opening the door and ushering the pair of you in, Harry’s hands pushed you up against the door with fervor and went to kiss you. As his wet pink lips were about to connect with yours, you turned your head and he only kissed your cheek. Exasperated, Harry’s forehead rested against yours. “What now?”

“Say sorry,” you stated.

“What?!” His head moved back and his eyes stared wildly at you in the dim lighting of the house.

“Apologize for being rude or you can forget about fucking me...all night long,” you smirked, feeling extremely powerful in this moment.

“Y/N…” Harry contemplated it for a minute, to give in and have a good night or continue to fight and do nothing. His growing erection tugged at his attention as it began to press into your leg and he decided his best option was to give in, “I’m sorry.”

“For what exactly?” Your head tilted as a finger trailed down his chest.

“For being rude…”

“And?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

“Apologize for how you’re always stepping on my toes.”

“Am not!” Harry was over your little power trip, “You got your apology, no let’s get back to what we’re actually here for.” He went in to kiss you and you granted him a peck before pulling back again.

“You’re unbelievable, Harry-” He ignored your words and cut you off by moving his mouth down to your neck, beginning to suck vigorously. Your body shivered at his touch, gripping onto his shoulder for some sort of purchase.

“Oh yeah, tell me how much you fucking hate me, sweetheart,” he breathed against your neck eventually. His hands were gripping both of your ass cheeks and the pressure of his dick against your thigh had your wetness growing instantly. Trying to choke down a moan, you whimpered, “I do hate you…”

He licked up the side of your neck and nipped at your ear lobe, whispering he said, “Sure ya do.” He was mocking you and you were loving it, feeling like you were about to melt in his hands. Like you had said earlier, you both had similar tastes in bed. So you felt ecstatic to actually be in his arms right now.

His lips pressed open mouth kisses along your jaw and you were trying, and failing, to keep your panting to a minimum. Your wetness was only growing as Harry continued to press his broad chest against your heaving breasts. He slipped a leg between yours, as he had in the bar alleyway, and pressed up into your clothed heat.

“Fuck..” you sighed.

“Panting like a fuckin’ bitch in heat for my cock, huh? Can feel your wet pussy throbbing for me, pet.” Harry spat out as he continued to suck on every inch of skin that was exposed, from your lips to your neck to your cleavage. It felt amazing, but you wanted more.

Suddenly, Harry flipped your body around so that your front was pressed against the doorway, his hard dick pressed between your ass cheeks. His lips went back to your neck, one of his hands gripped low on your hip and the other went to hold onto your throat. His hold on your neck caused your head to be shoved back on his chest. He was constricting your breathing in the most perfect way, turning you on even more at just the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing. You whimpered out meekly at his words and actions, feeling blissfully overwhelmed. You managed to push your ass up against his crotch more, but that was about the extent of your will power in that moment.

“Remember when you were doing this with that woman? Your little pretty mouth on her neck, your body moving perfectly against hers. Had to force myself to look away, was starting to get hard from just the sight.”

You moaned as you felt Harry’s large hand go down and cup your mound over your pants. You cursed yourself for wearing trousers out, then you wouldn’t have been matching with Harry and he’d now have extremely easy access to where you wanted him now.

Gaining a little strength, you pulled from Harry’s grasp and faced him again. Your hands began to tug at the few buttons that were still done on his shirt. As you worked, you pushed him further into the house hoping he’d get the hint to take you to his room.

“Then that actual asshole came up. You looked fucking hot with all that rage in your eyes,” Harry sighed as he pulled you to his room, his hands never leaving yours even if you weren’t kissing. “Wanted to beat him up, though, for what he said.”

“Yeah, I’d never seen you that angry,” you finished with his shirt and Harry finished pulling it off of him. Your hands ran down his chest, feeling the grooves created by his muscles and seeing the black ink of his tattoos, “Fucking hot…” Then they went for his belt, but Harry stopped you, “You need to be much less dressed, pet.” He tugged off your tiny navy top and you reached around for your bras clasp, again he stopped you and took his own nimble fingers to take it off for you. As the bra slid down your arms, Harry’s lips flew to your right nipple, engulfing it with a slight groan. A hand ran up your naked figure and squeezed at the other one as his tongue swirled at your nipple, causing it to pebble.

Then he rasped, “Pants.” But you simply stood there, staring at him with terribly large doe eyes. You were throbbing for him, but you wanted him to be more aggressive with you. When you did nothing, his mouth and hands left your body and he stood up straight. His large body towered over yours and a smirk grew on his face as he scanned your frame.

“I said, pants.”

“Why don’t you do it yourself.”

“Oh, so you’re also a stuck up princess in the bedroom, too? Makes sense.”

Harry was quick to unbutton your pants and then yank them, along with your thong, down your legs, leaving you completely exposed. As you went to kiss him, he roughly turned you around again, pulling your back into him and sitting on his bed. His arm was wrapped around your waist as his head rested on your shoulder. He widened his legs, causing yours to follow suit, which led you to be completely spread for him. Your breathing was heavy, your tits heaving up and down in anticipation for what Harry was about to do next. With his free hand, he rested it on your right knee and began to drag his fingertips up your thigh at an agonizingly slow rate. Your hips bucked in anticipation when he was about halfway up your thigh. He wasn’t kissing you at all, his wide eyes trained on your lower body on top of his clothed legs. You felt him swallow hard against you due to your movement on top of his dick.

“Keep still, pet, trying to focus.”

His arm around your waist gripped tighter and you let out a shaky breath. His fingertips moved further away from your heat as punishment. Your legs widened, trying to entice Harry to move faster as you laid against his toned body. The heat that his body emitted was burning your skin. The way his soft skin of his chest felt against your back was intoxicated, you wanted to touch and kiss every inch of it. But Harry wasn’t happy with the movement, his hands stopped again. You both were in agony, needy for each other, but the name of the game was ‘similar tastes’, so you both knew you loved the chase.

“I told you,” Harry growled, “to not move. Do you just want Daddy to stop? Is that what you want, pet?”

And there it was. The daddy kink. You moaned loudly at his words, unable to hold back now.

“Fuck you,” you spat.

He tensed, but then he continued his slow travel to your center, his fingers growing impatient. His arm around your waist slid up to your throat again, “Now that really is no way to talk to me now is it? M’gonna have to punish you, yeah?” Your head strained to look back at Harry and he allowed it. Your eyes meeting his and you bit your lip in response, his fingers just at the fleshy crease between your thigh and your pussy now. “You’re filthy, though, so I know that’s what you’ve wanted all along, hmm?”

His rough hand now cupped over your bare mound, “Answer me, pet.”

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“You’re forgetting something…Not gonna touch you until you say it.”

You whispered, almost inaudibly, “Daddy…”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He said happily, his voice still containing that low rasp as he gripped over your pussy, not dipping in yet just holding it tightly. His grip also tightened on your neck a bit and you felt completely held up by Harry’s two hands. Your breathing got even heavier and then you screamed. Harry let a single finger slip between your folds and the juices came spilling out around it. You were so wet for him and the small movement had you pushing down hard on his hand. He flicked it up to your clit and swirled around there for a moment before pushing back down and inside your weepy hole.

“So fucking wet, it’s almost unbelievable. Except I know what a slut you are, so fucking needy for my cock.” You had no idea what to say, he knew exactly what he was doing to you and you loved being taken control of like this in the bedroom, even with Harry - maybe especially with Harry.

He took you off of his lap and threw you onto the bed, your body splayed out for him, your dripping pussy glistening up at him through the darkness.

“What? No comeback?” He began, undoing his belt and taking off his pants. His hard cock sprang free, leaving him completely naked as well. “Who knew all I had to do was get you in bed to finally shut you up?” He spread your legs apart again, knees falling out by your hips. He stared down at your naked body and devoured it with his eyes.

“Come on, tell me you hate me. Lie to my face, Y/N.” His body came between your legs, his lips hovering over your dripping cunt for a moment before continuing up your body until he was face to face with you. His now freed dick was laying perfectly nestled between your pussy lips as he stared down at you. The head pressing down on your plumped clit. His neck strained as he held himself up and your eyes flickered down between your bodys to see where they were connected. His golden skin that stretched perfectly over every dip and curve of his body had you screaming inside. This moment was a thousand degrees and you wanted it to last forever.

“Hello? Is there anyone still in there?” Harry took a hand from beside your face and tapped on your cheek. You nodded about to open your mouth and say something coherent. “Actually, you know what, save your lies, I have a better idea for when you can tell me them.”

He leaned down and pressed an oddly sweet kiss to your lips. Then he shifted the pair of you back further on the bed. He leaned back on his knees and gripped his dick in one hand. He reached his other out to your mouth, “Spit,” you easily complied. He switched hands, gave his dick a few pumps and then lined it up with your opening. Without any further warning his thrusted deeply inside of you. For the second time that night, you screamed, and then you screamed out Harry’s name when he gave you a second thrust. He had your body arched off the bed as he sat up on his knees with your legs wrapped around his hips, your heels digging into the top of his ass, and his hands gripping your hips. His abs were rippling as he held the two of you up. But then he stopped, his green eyes were now the color of a dark abyss and they were boring straight through you. You whined out, “Harry, what the fuck?”

“Tell me a lie.”

“What?”

“If you want me to keep fucking your needy little cunt, tell me one reason you hate me. For every lie, you get another thrust of my cock.”

His words with his cock sheathed inside of you almost made you cum right there. His dick was completely stretching and filling you up and you could feel your juices dripping out of where you were connected. You needed him to move.

“I fucking hate you…” you seethed. “Uh-huh, tell me why,” Harry egged you on and began to pull out slightly, the movement making you shudder and struggle for words. “Because you wear the same clothes as me.”

“Good.”

He pulled completely out until just his tip was at your entrance. You felt empty and wanted him back, he pushed harshly back inside, both of you moaned out at the feeling.

“I hate you because you think you’re the best at everything,” you moaned out, Harry thrusted.

“Right back at you,” He growled.

“I hate you because you steal the spotlight.”

“Again, you.” Harry thrusted.

As much as he liked this game he had created, the sweat on his forehead was starting to pool, he needed to fuck you faster or else he was going to lose it. Seeing you laid out around him, writhing in pleasure, panting insults as you gripped the sheets and your tits, it was all too much.

“I hate you...because you’re too fucking slow at this,” you gasped as he gave you another slow thrust.

He leaned forward and kissed one of your tits before sticking his tongue into your mouth and sucking harshly. You kissed back fervently, needing any sort of release from the agony of the pressure building inside of you.

“You’re right, you’re taking too long to give me even mediocre lies,” he whispered once he pulled away.

With his dick inside of you, Harry took your legs from around him and flipped you around him. Again you screamed and Harry smirked at the sound, he loved to hear the way you sounded just because of him. He gripped your hips from behind now, fingers digging into your fleshy hips and ass, marking you as his. He did a quick preliminary thrust to test out the feel of this new position. With your head already pushed into the bed and your hands grabbing out in front of you, you moaned loudly.

“That’s better,” Harry muttered, taking one hand to land a loud smack onto the side of your ass. You jumped forward, but his other hand held you in place. “Be a good girl.”

Then he’s off, his hips snapping into action, pistoning his cock deep inside your folds. The sounds you two made with your body were obscene in the most literal sense. The squelching of your juices when his cock disappeared inside of you mixed with the hearty moans Harry and you were both emitting was a symphony of pleasure.

Eventually your moans turned to high-pitched repeated chants of “Uh-huh” as your release neared. Harry’s hips never slowing down, possibly moving even faster, he enjoyed hearing you come undone beneath him, your body bouncing just with the sheer force of his dick inside of you. “Gonna cum?” His thrusts never ceasing, his chest glistening with sweat as his cross pounded against it with each push inside of you. He rubbed over the red spot on your ass from him slapping you before.

You moaned out, “Yes daddy!”

“Tell me how much you hate me again?” He asks, pounding relentlessly, trying to tip you over the edge. He slaps your ass again, stinging your cheek and sending that feeling throughout your body, “Tell me.” His moans were out of control, yet his voice when he spoke was almost completely calm, if only slightly breathless.

He pulls out, punishing you for not answering fast enough. “Harry…” you whine. He grabs your legs and pulls you to the edge of the bed so now your feet are on the ground. He kicks your feet so that you widen your legs and shoves his angry red cock back inside your walls. He’s just about ready to cum as well, but he wants you to say something first. He begins speeding back up to his original speed as he grabs your body and brings it flush against his. Both your bodies are clammy against one other, beads of sweat running down your spine and between his pecs. He brings one hand to your tit and squeezes it hard, another moan escapes your mouth. Then, his other goes down your stomach and lands on you clit. As he begins to rub, he asks you again to tell him.

Finally, you breath out, in time with his thrusts, “I” “Fucking” “Hate” “You” “Ha-aahhhh” You don’t get to finish your sentence, your body begins to convulse in Harry’s grip, your orgasm overtaking any brain function. His dick is still bobbing in and out of you, but Harry released your body from against his, and you fall back down to the bed.

As he chases his own release, he moans out in complete euphoria how your pussy has gripped and tightened around his cock after your orgasm. It’s like it was milking him and his thrusts became completely erratic. Finally he released, his load spurting inside you and painting your walls with cum. He collapsed on top of your body on the bed, exhausted.

“I hate you, too,” he whispered into your ear, pecking a kiss on your cheek that wasn’t pressed into the bed.

As you laid there, coming down from your highs, you began to feel bits of Harry’s cum drip down your leg.

“Harry, you need to get off of me.”

“But I like it here, feels nice.”

“Your cum is starting to drip out of me, not to mention your dick’s still in there too.”

“Like I said, feels nice.”

He was right, it was hot. Feeling the pressure of him all around you after what had just happened. You were completely consumed by this man. He was everything for however long you two had just been fucking and you had loved it. The way he had taken control, the way he’d made you feel, all of it.

After a few more moments, however, he did listen to your request and slid out of you. He went to his bathroom to clean the two of you up and brought you back a t-shirt so you didn’t have to be naked.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, staring down at Harry who had just wiped down your pussy with a warm washcloth.

He nodded and rose back up to dispose of the washcloth somewhere else, leaving you in the center of his bed, swimming in the random t-shirt he had given you. You had slowly regained your normal pattern of breathing, but you were completely wiped out with exhaustion. When

Harry came back, you asked, “What time is it?”

“Half past 2”

“Shit…” you looked around, not even seeing your own clothes, “that’s late.”

“You can stay here?”

“I don’t have to.”

“It’s okay with me,” Harry shrugged.

“Really?”

“Of course, I meant what I said earlier, Y/N. I care about you, I’m not going to send you out to find your way home at 3 am.” He’d found a clean pair of boxers and slid onto the bed next to you. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear and you stared up at him.

“I know what we did just now was, like, a hate fuck...But I don’t hate you, Harry.”

He laughed softly at your words, “I gathered.”

You swatted at his bicep, but smiled brightly, “Shut up!”

“Told you to tell me lies and you told me reasons you hated me, meaning you actually don’t hate me at all.”

“I know that, I was there!”

“Oh my god, it’s never ending with you, huh?” Harry moaned as he wrapped his arms around you and brought the pair of you into a laying down position, with your body on top of his.

“Ok, daddy,” you mocked.

“Hey! I know you liked that just as much as I did,” he huffed.

You grinned, your face millimeters from his also smiling face. “Yeah, yeah I did,” you say. Then your voice grew a lot more serious and a lot softer. You stared straight into Harry’s eyes and his expression grew soft. “Y’know as much as I like passionate, hate sex..I also like, um, y’know, like passionate, loving sex.”

“I - me too. We could try that, too, next time,” Harry’s eyes brightened at your suggestion and he ran a hand down the backside of your hair, petting you softly, comforting you.

“We might need to be a little nicer to each other, in regular life, too,” your statement coming out more as a question. Your fingers fiddling with themselves on top of Harry’s broad chest.

“I think I can manage that. Maybe we can talk about what we’re planning on wearing to places beforehand so that we don’t end up wearing matching outfits.”

“Or! If this ever did become serious, we could be one of those couples who coordinated their outfits.”

You both burst out in laughter at your facetious suggestion. Simultaneously you both said, “Never!”

Harry craned his neck up and planted a kiss to your lips. You smiled into the kiss, pressing your lips down so he could lay back and kiss you more easily. His hand cradled the back of your neck and your lips danced together softly, enjoying each other’s presence.

-

taglist: @delfidemarco @detroitkiwis @burberryharold @avhrodite @iconicharry

@cronias13 @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @harrys-cherrry @harrxier @sltwins @awesomebooklover17 @harrys-stan

[1kook]

jungkook + pure female pleasure

no joke that was deadass the title of the pornhub vid that inspired this tags: smut, domestic if u squint, handjob (f-receiving), a lil tit grabbin  wc: not even 2k lol  notes: why do all my ideas come to fruition at 1 am also this is one of many Jungkook fics I’ve started in the past week many of which will never see the light of day <3 god bless x2 bc its not proofread 

-

Realistically, Jungkook knows you don’t mean to entice him the way you do. You just loved being in his general vicinity, loved being drowned in his affection, being the sole object of his attention. And he knows it’s the long, busy week you both had that’s making you like this tonight, extra cuddly and extra sweet to him. He’d almost died when you opened the door to your apartment, so soft and warm in one of his big t-shirts and a pair of shorts so little your ass fell out.

He was whipped, anyone could tell you as much, but Jungkook didn’t care. Sure, he’d been deeply connected with other women before, but the way you made him feel, the comfort and adoration you’ve brought him in only the past six months of dating, was surreal. He knows now, all those other relationships he’d been in? Those flings and short-lived romances? Child’s play compared to the sheer amount of love you drowned him in.

Which is why he feels bad when he tells you he can’t tonight, right after your fingers toy with the waistband of his joggers—he came here straight after the gym, smelly and stinky and gross, because if he had stopped at his home, he’d most likely lose the energy to come see you tonight, and after the week you’ve had he couldn’t do that to you—and your lips trail across his neck. He’d felt terrible, watching the tiny pout on your lips as you registered his confession, and even worse when you smoothed it over and assured him all was right so long as he was here beside you.

It’s been twenty minutes now, and Jungkook was out of it. Was it the guilt from not being able to please you? You, who had done everything in your power to grant Jungkook the happiest six months of his life thus far. Guilt... or shame that he was so tired he couldn’t please you, his literal goddess. He wasn’t sure, and between being caught up in those thoughts, and balancing the bowl of popcorn on his lap, his brain can’t keep up. The popcorn tumbles over after a particularly jerky movement from him, the buttery food toppling onto your lap where it immediately sets into your tiny shorts.

“Jungkook!” You gasp in surprise, hopping to your feet to brush the oil away quickly. He sputters into action, rounding up the sullied popcorn bits and dumping them back into the bowl—it had no use now anyway. “Ah,” you say, when the chaos dies over and you’re left greasy from the food. “I’m gonna go get changed real quick, okay?”

“Wait—I’m sorry,” he sighs, catching your wrist in his hand. You pause, regarding him with curious eyes as you watch him slump over in his seat. “I’m fucking up real bad tonight, aren’t I?”

You plop down beside him, and Jungkook feels even worse seeing how sleek your thighs are with popcorn oil. “You’ve done nothing wrong, baby,” you assure him, brushing a hand down the nape of his neck. He relaxes into the touch. “Well, you did waste all that popcorn and get me dirty, but!” He rolls his eyes, obsesses over the quirk of your smile a little too much to be normal. “Nothing my little Rumba and a shower won’t fix.”

He groans as he leans back into the couch, and you chuckle at his dramatics. You shift, and his eyes flicker down to your legs again. “Take these off,” he huffs, doesn’t realize the implications of his words until you’re kneeling beside him in a little black thong. He folds your shorts around, figures if they’re dirty they might as well get dirtier as he wipes your thighs with the cotton.

“My hero,” you tease, wiggle your shoulders at him, and that’s when it hits him.

He gives your body a brief once over, doesn’t miss the way your thighs shift about the longer he stares at you. A lightbulb goes off somewhere, and he’s tossing your shorts to the ground, tugging you into his lap. “Baby,” you laugh, body pliant against his palms as he shifts you about. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Jungkook presses a kiss to your mouth, and part of him revels in the way your lips drop open so easily for him, a tiny exhale escaping you as he pecks your lips a couple more times. “Come here,” he says, ignoring your question as he spreads his legs wide, maneuvering you to sit in the open space between with your legs thrown over one leg, upper body thrown over the other.

“Jungkook,” you warn once the realization hits you, but he shushes you by ducking down and pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Let me take care of you, doll,” he murmurs, grabs the knee closest to him in one hand, slowly trailing his palm across the meat of your thighs.

You say no more as you melt into his hold, and part of Jungkook is happy to see that he has the same effect on you as you do on him. He massages your inner thigh a little more, let’s his fingers barely brush against the fabric of your thong. “So good to me,” he says, and the noise from the tv fades away as his ears hone in on the shaky exhales leaving your throat.

Your lower lip trembles when he makes eye contact with you, awaiting his first move. When he finally does run his palm over your mound, your hips arch deliciously into the air. “Woah, woah,” he chuckles, pressing his other hand down against your hip to hold you down, though it eventually let’s go in favor of smoothing over your stomach and ribs.

“Jungkook,” you huff, and he hums, pressing his thumb down over your bud. “J-Jungkook!” You gasp, hips swiveling at the sudden contact. He shushes you, rubs his thumb in circles as you continue to twitch and wiggle about.

You were so sensitive, and he was so in love.

“So pretty,” he tells you, stretching his fingers down to rub over your clothed folds. You moan, and your ability to stay still slowly begins to wither away as he presses harder and harder into you. “Just wanna fuck your pretty little brains out,” he admits,

Your back arches, and his big t-shirt slides down (up?) your body, pooling just before the swell of your breasts. He knew you weren’t wearing a bra, had felt your soft chest when you’d hugged him at the door. He pushes your shirt out of the way, massaging your boobs. You cry out at the sensation, hips circling up into his palm.

“More, more,” you whine, legs and arms stretching out wildly the faster he rubs his thumb over your clit. But it’s not enough, Jungkook Can tell by the way your brow furrows and the way you press his hand tighter against your breast.

“Take these off for me, doll,” he encourages, tugging at the hem of your thong and watches the way it rolls into itself the further down it goes, until you’re kicking it off your ankle with no consideration. He knocks your knees apart, can’t help but salivate at the glistening folds that present themselves to him.

“So wet, and tight,” he mumbles, dives his finger down just barely between your folds. You squeal, bucking into his palm. “And so, so responsive.”

“Please, just touch… touch me,” you cry out, grinding into his palm.

“Don’t worry your pretty head off, sweetheart,” Jungkook assures you, slides the point of his middle finger past your folds and into your core. You’re tighter than he remembers, but so warm and inviting. “Wanna make you cum and cum, until you’re shaking,” he says, and though he’s become so riled up by seeing you like this, his heart still flutters when you grab onto his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt bunched between your clenched fist.

Without the presence of that skimpy thing, there’s nothing that stops him from pressing his thumb against your clit. You positively mewl at the touch, your leg sporadically kicking out, sending a throw pillow tumbling off the couch.

“Oh—oh!” You weep, hands desperate to hold anything, anything, and they find their place wrapped around his bicep and grappling onto the side of the couch cushion. Jungkook basks in your reactions, reaches both hands down to rub against your dripping pussy. Every touch of his fingers to your most sensitive parts riles you up more and more, hips bucking into his palm, only to jerk away right after.

“Keep still,” Jungkook coos, smooths a palm over your stomach to push you down again. You moan, the simple touch sending tingles down your spine. And when you squirm about again and end up with a foot dangling off the side of the couch, face so close and overwhelmed, Jungkook can’t help but slot his mouth against yours for the briefest of moments.

It’s apparently the wrong thing to do, because when he pulls away, you're nearly sobbing and desperate for more. “Jungkookie, ther—there!!” You shriek, use the foot on the ground to push your hips up into his palm.

He lets you, mostly because it’s usually Jungkook desperate and horny for you, so to see you quivering and sobbing on his lap, pussy spread out for him to toy with, it boosts something inside of him. He gives your clit another few rubs, swallows the loud moan that threatens to escape, before trailing his hand further down your center.

“No, no,” you cry, looking at Jungkook with watery eyes. Your skin is so warm, every inch soft under his roaming palms. “I’ll cum, Jungkook, I-I’ll com—“

He silences you with another kiss, and for someone who loves you so much, he absolutely adores the way your lips tremble against his, the more distraught you become. “That’s the plan, doll,” he huffs out a quiet chuckle, smiles down at you as your face twists in pleasure.

“Koo—Kook!” You sob, hips bucking wildly into his palm, and Jungkook doesn’t even try to hold you down anymore, let’s you squirm and flail about as you chase your high. His fingers don’t slow either, rubbing against your glistening folds and your clit, until you’re sobbing his name some more.

“Come on, pretty baby,” he croons, reaching down to massage your breasts again. You cry out, flailing wildly. Your back arches so prettily, Jungkook thinks you could have been a renaissance statue, and you come.

“J-Jungkook,” you weep, body releasing a tiny series of twitches as your pleasure washes over you, and you cum all over his hand. He tries his best to keep it from staining your couch, but you come so much that he can barely push it back into you. “Jungkookie,” you whisper a second time, when the waves are beginning to slow and his fingers become too much.

He rushed to reassure you he’s still there, pressing a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Right here, baby,” he murmurs, kissing down your face until he’s sucking against the soft spot behind your ear.

“Fuck,” you murmur, limbs still loose and weak against him.

He hums, pumps his fingers into you one last time, much to your surprise, because he loved the slick feeling of your warm heat enveloping him. “Feel good?” He asks, and you release another pitiful whine when his fingers curl inside of you. He muffles a smile against your jaw.

“Uh huh,” you groan, hips twitching again. You clench around his digits, and Jungkook wonders just how many more times he can unravel you tonight.

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [55]

x. die all, die merrily

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: I mean, the title says it all, people die, there is fighting and violence. also some light smut, a lil touch of kidnapping, and some language to finish it all up.

Summary: the final conclave begins, and 13 clans fight for the ultimate prize: surviving the apocalypse. 

a/n: I AM NERVOUS TO POST THIS BC APPARENTLY THIS IS A LOT OF YALLS FAVORITE EPISODE EVER SO I HOPE I DID IT JUSTICE! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

March 27th, 2150; Polis

You wake to the sounds of yelling outside. 

Your eyes pull open slowly, blinking against the bright light of the sun that streams into the room from the balcony. You roll over, coming face to face with Bellamy, who is looking down at you and smiling. You give him a sleepy smile in return. “How long have you been up?”

He glances towards the balcony, before his eyes fall on you again. “An hour or so. Sounds like they’re prepping for the conclave.”

You hum in agreement. “Didn't Clarke say it starts tomorrow? I’m sure there’s a lot to be done and not much time to do it in.”

“Does that mean we have to help too?”

You laugh at the grimace on his face, clearly not excited about this prospect. “Probably.”

He sighs and starts to stand from the bed, but you grab his hand and pull him back down towards you. He looks at you in surprise as you give him a mischievous look, pulling him down even closer, until his face is inches from yours. “We can have some fun first though, don’t you think?”

He catches onto your line of thinking easily, and he gives you a look full of fire and passion. He answers your question with a searing kiss, your previous separation making you savor the kiss more than you usually do. His hands come to land on either side of your face, holding you in place as he kisses you like his life depends on it. Like he’s a drowning man and you’re a tank of oxygen sent to save him. His hands slide from your face, down to your body, sliding all over you, the feeling of his skin on yours electric. 

He pulls you closer to his body, tugging until you move to straddle him, the fur blanket sliding off of you as you do. You run your hands down his already naked chest, his shirt on you, your favorite thing to sleep in, and he smiles up at you. You tug the shirt off and toss it to the side, and his eyes roam your body with appreciation, taking you in. You have to resist the urge to cover up, knowing how much he likes to look at you, but still, you whisper, “You’re staring.”

“I’m admiring. I’m drawing a detailed image of you in my brain for later, and I want to make sure I don’t miss anything.”

His fingers trace over a few of your scars, the one on your shoulder from the arrow, the one on your leg from Roan, and the one on your side from the assassin, and you can see his eyes mapping their location on your body. You copy the motion with him, carefully tracing the scar on his side, the one you stitched up. He glances down at it, the small, jagged little scar, shaped like an uneven lightning bolt. “It is crooked. Sorry about that.”

“Don't be, I like it. It reminds me of you.”

“It looks like lightning. The perfect scar for my stormy boyfriend.”

He gives you a peculiar look. “You think I'm stormy?”

You lean down and kiss him, chasing away the insecurity that seems to creep up. “Not in a bad way. Storms are powerful, forces to be reckoned with. Sometimes they rage and crackle, but they cleanse too, and help the Earth grow.”

He smiles up at you, his face softening and his earlier insecurity now gone. “And you are radiant. Breathtaking. Beautiful.”

He kisses you in between each compliment, lingering on the last one, making it long and slow. You open your mouth, granting his tongue access, and they dance and move together in a perfect symphony. As he kisses you, you both slide out of any remaining undergarments, both of you naked and warm against each other. The usual vulnerability, and fear, that comes with being naked around another person is lost on you, because Bellamy is careful to radiate nothing but love and adoration, wanting you to feel safe and secure. 

He breaks the kiss to watch you as you sink onto him, both of you moaning with pleasure. He rolls you both, situating your body beneath his, his arms supporting his weight next to your head, caging you between them. Your eyes lock as you move together, finding your rhythm, and his other hand slips between your bodies to bring you closer to the edge. You fall first, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back in pleasure, and the sight of you sends Bellamy over right after.

He kisses you again as you come down from your high, the kiss lazy and sloppy, both of you feeling like jelly as your pleasure rolls through you. Bellamy eventually rolls off you, laying down at your side, turning to watch you. You turn to face him, smiling up at his freckled face and messy curls, “Tell me about the gods.”

He smiles, always ready to oblige, before launching into his story. “Persephone, better known as the goddess of the dead and Underworld, wasn’t always known that way…”

-

March 28th, 2150; Polis

Bellamy’s hand is held tight in your own, slick with sweat from nerves as he leads you down the hall, towards Octavia’s room. The tradition of the Final Conclave has now begun, and in mere minutes, Octavia will walk onto the stage in front of everyone, and accept the sigil of her clan, your clan, and fight until the death for Skaikru. 

When Bellamy reaches the door, he turns and looks at you, nervous, and you nod your head, reassuring him. He lifts his hand and knocks, and Octavia looks his way, quickly looking away again when she realizes who it is. “You here to give me a pep talk?”

He drops your hand and steps into the room, settling onto the couch beside her. You linger in the doorway, here for emotional support more than anything, watching Bellamy make his last attempt to save his sister. “You don't have to do this. We can find someone else to fight. “

“If I die, I die. At least I go down fighting.”

“O-”

She cuts him off immediately, shutting down his argument. “Don't. This is my decision, Bell. I know what the odds are, I don't need you pointing them out.”

You hear footsteps from down the hall, and you peek behind you, watching as your twin approaches you. Her face is set in a grim expression, not optimistic at all, and as soon as she looks up and meets your eyes, she calls out, “It's time.”

You nod, turning to pass the message along to Octavia, but she must have heard because she is already standing and walking your way. You get a good look at her make up as she approaches, the dark war paint painted over each of her eyes in the shape of an upside down “L”. You realize immediately what her inspiration is, and as she stops in front of you, you whisper, “Lincoln’s tattoo.”

She nods once, confirming your suspicion, and you see a quick pass of nerves cross her features. You reach out and squeeze her shoulder, offering her comfort. “He’s always with you, especially now, and I know he's proud of you.”

She gives you a small smile before walking past you and out the door, walking down the long hallway to the stage. You and Bellamy follow her path until you meet up with Clarke, who leads you out a side door and into the crowd, just in time to watch Gaia, Indra’s daughter, announce, “Octavia kom Skaikru, step forward.”

Octavia steps up onto the stage and ducks her head, allowing Gaia to attach a necklace around her neck. “Accept the sigil of your clan and fight with honor as their champion.”

She walks across the stage and comes to a stop beside Roan, and you and Bellamy exchange a look as Gaia begins her final speech. “Soon will begin the Final Conclave, a battle to the death within the walls of Polis. These warriors will fight until only one remains. When that warrior collects all of the sigils from the fallen and delivers them to me, they will be declared the victor. This final champion alone will tell us which clan is meant to survive in the crypt of Bekka Pramheda, and which clans are meant to perish in Praimfaya. Osir koma op daun bilaik slip daun kom bleirona, ba mafta op Won bilaik hef em op mou beda.”

Kane translates for you and Bellamy, able to understand the words faster than both of you can. “We honor those who fall by the sword, but follow the One who wields it best.”

Somewhere behind you in the crowd, someone yells, “Daun bilaik ai!”

That would be me. You all turn and watch in shock as Luna stalks through the crowd, shoving people out of her way to get to the front, and you can sense trouble brewing as soon as you see her face. “Shit.”

Bellamy looks at you, not understanding what you mean, not aware of just how bad things got for Luna on Becca’s Island. She stalks onto the stage and comes to a stop in front of Gaia. “I'm Luna kom Floukru, and I'm the last of my clan.”

“We know who you are...The Natblida who ran from her conclave.”

“I'm not running from this one.”

Gaia turns and grabs the last necklace from the bowl, turning to face the angry Nightblood. “Accept this sigil, Luna kom Floukru. But with your clan gone, who will you fight for?”

“I fight for no one. I fight for death.” She snatches the necklace from Gaia’s hands and turns and holds it up for the crowd. “When I win, no one will be saved.”

Her words immediately send a wave of murmurs through the crowd, and Gaia quickly solves the problem by dispersing the crowd and sending the warriors down into the weapons room to arm up and prepare for the battle. You, Kane, Bellamy, Clarke, and Jaha all cluster in a circle, quietly discussing Luna's arrival when Gaia comes over to your group, voice full of authority. “Skaikru! Three advisors to the worgeda. The rest of you, report to your designated safe zone. Now.”

Kane gestures to you and Bellamy, “Come on. We have to get her ready.”

Jaha reaches out and grabs Kane’s arm, stopping him from leaving. “This conversation isn't over. The death wave will be here within three days, and here we are, risking the fate of our people on a blood sport?”

Clarke corrects him, “The fate of all people, You heard Luna.”

“She's just one of 13.”

You wince, remembering when you walked in a room to save Luna from at least 6 men, only to find that she had already saved herself. And that was after being repeatedly tortured. “You're wrong. She's a Nightblood novitiate, which means she trained in combat exactly like this.”

Bellamy looks at you, misunderstanding you. “You want us to cheat?”

“No.” You look at him, shaking your head. “I only mean that Luna is the walking definition of killer warrior, and that scares me.”

Kane adds, “Besides, you know the rules. If we break them, we lose, and if we lose, we die.”

“The rules are not the problem, Marcus. The game is. Even if we stop Luna, even if Octavia finds a way to win, does anyone truly believe that the Grounders will accept Skaikru as the lone survivors?”

“Yes. The conclave is sacred, they'll honor the winner. Like it or not, we're all Grounders now.” The words tug at a memory, Bellamy standing in the middle of a circle of delinquents, convincing all of you to fight the Grounders coming your way. But Kane pulls you from that memory when he looks at Jaha, and says, “You get our people to the safe zone, we'll have Octavia ready for the fight. The rest is up to her.”

You and Clarke nod at each other, knowing you’ll see each other again soon, after the Conclave. Either as the sole clan to survive Praimfaya, or as one of 13 clans left outside to perish. Bellamy walks close to you as you follow Kane into the weapons area, leading you over to Octavia. As you walk towards her, you eye the competition, taking notes on their weapons, their fighting, anything you can gather that might help her. Kane seems to have the same idea because as soon as he stops in front of her and you and Bellamy stop beside him, he starts, “All right, listen to me. The Blue Cliff Warrior, she has two corvo blades. I just saw her practicing. She's left handed, you go for her weak hand.”

“Okay.”

You add to his point, “Plains Rider and the warrior from Shallow Valley, they're strong, but slow. You can avoid them, not to mention the black rain, which could fall at any moment, so stay close to cover.”

Beside you, Bellamy fidgets in place, turning and looking away, which does not go unnoticed by you or Octavia. She snaps, “What, Bellamy? If you've got something to say, just say it.”

“You don't need any of this. When the starting horn blows, just stay out of sight and let the others thin out the competition.”

“You want me to hide?”

“You don't need to go up against the strongest warrior from every clan.”

“I came here to fight.”

Bellamy bends down a little, matching their heights, his voice almost pleading, “You were the girl under the floor. Use that, just like Mom taught us.” 

Kane nods, “Bellamy's right. You don't have to kill all 12 warriors.”

“I just have to kill the last one.”

All of you exchange a nod, now on the same page in terms of strategy. Behind you, one of the Flamekeeper scouts announces, “Ambassadors and advisors, to the tower. Champions, to your flags.”

Kane and Octavia hug, quick and fierce, before she turns to Bellamy. They hover near each other, unsure whether they should hug, and eventually Octavia settles on, “May we meet again.”

“Damn right we will.”

Bellamy’s voice is sad, and he looks like he wants to hug her, but he’s so worried about upsetting her before the battle that he doesn’t. He just turns and starts to walk away, leaving you and Octavia alone. You don't hesitate to hug her, reaching out and grabbing her, squeezing her tight and passing along as much love and strength as you can through the hug. She hugs you back tight, almost desperate, and when you pull away, both of you have tears in your eyes, aware this might be your last goodbye. You smile through your tears, “You were my first friend on the ground, and the first person to see me as someone other than the Invisible Twin. Now you’re my people, my family, my sister. I am so incredibly proud of you.”

She smiles at you and you see her fighting back her tears, not wanting anyone to see her crying. She squeezes your arm and whispers, “I love you. Bellamy too.”

You nod, already aware, because you knew the siblings couldn't stay upset with each other long. Lincoln's death left a mark on their relationship, but that doesn't mean their relationship was irreparable. You start to answer when one of the Flamekeepers grabs your arms and pulls you away, pushing you towards the door to the tower. You turn and wave one last goodbye to Octavia, eyes watching the small girl melt into the crowd of warriors who have been fighting longer than she’s been alive. You meet Bellamy at the elevator, and his face is fallen, completely upset. You slip your hand in his and he looks over at you in surprise, so lost in his own head that he didn't even hear your approach. “What did she say?”

“She said she loves you.”

Surprise takes over his expression, then regret, and he immediately drops your hands and turns away, “I have to tell her I love her.”

But the Flamekeeper who pushed you out of the room blocks his path, pushing him back towards the elevator, not allowing him to leave. You can tell Bellamy wants to fight it and fight him, but you reach out and grab his hand again, pulling him towards the now waiting elevator. “She’s going to win, Bellamy. You can tell her afterwards.”

He nods and you ride the elevator to the top, meeting up with Kane in the throne room, just as the horn sounds, signaling the beginning of the conclave. You can hear the sounds of fighting immediately, and the tensions inside the room are high as you hear the clang of swords and the thud of fallen bodies. Minutes later, Gaia comes into the room and announces, “The first two champions have fallen.”

Everyone turns towards her, absolutely terrified that she will say the name of the warrior from their clan, and you, Kane, and Bellamy are no exception. 

“Gael kom Ingranronakru, yu gonplei ste odon.”

One of the Flamekeepers walks over to the candle that represents the Plains Riders and puts the flame out, ending their battle for the bunker. You all watch the Flamekeeper turn away from the snuffed candle and walk towards the next one, and your heart drops as every step he takes brings him closer and closer to the Skaikru candle. Bellamy whispers, “Please don't be her.”

Luckily, but still heartbreaking, the Flamekeeper stops just shy, in front of the Trikru candle, as Gaia announces, “Fio kom Trikru, yu gonplei ste odon.”

Relieved, you turn to Bellamy. “Octavia's still out there.”

Bellamy’s eyes turn towards you, full of tears, his expression breaking your heart. “I couldn't tell her I loved her, even with the world ending.”

You squeeze his hand, still held tight in yours. “Trust me, Bellamy, she knows.”

He nods and his eyes drop to the floor, lost in his head again, and you and Kane share a look. With nothing else to do now, except wait, you and Bellamy head out to the balcony with your binoculars, watching the fights alongside Gaia. Kane comes out onto the balcony as you watch the Blue Cliff warrior kill the Sangedakru warrior, and Bellamy lets out a small gasp at the sight of the death. When you turn to look at him in confusion, he nods towards Kane, and you follow him as he leads you over to the Chancellor. Bellamy’s voice is low when he mutters, “We just saw the Blue Cliff warrior kill the Sangedakru warrior with a bow.”

“So?”

Bellamy looks at you, and you remember your pre fight conversation with Octavia. You tell Kane, “So, we saw her before the fight. She didn't have a bow, she had two swords.”

“Yeah, the corvo blades.” He shrugs, not understanding your worry. “Well, she could have picked up a bow off the battlefield.”

You and Bellamy exchange a look, both of you aware that someone you know is exceptionally good with a bow, and exceptionally good at betrayal. You both step back inside the room, scanning for the Azgeda spy, shaking your head when you don't see her. Kane comes up beside you, looking between you in confusion. “What is it?”

“Echo's gone.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Bellamy stalks out of the room, looking like a man on a mission, and you and Kane look at each other in panic before running after him. “Bellamy, wait!”

He spins around to face the two of you, annoyed at the interruption. “My sister is down there. Echo is cheating, and I'm gonna stop her.”

Kane shakes his head, “Let one of Gaia's scouts find her, and then Ice Nation will be punished.”

“They'll never catch her. Echo's a spy, this is what she does.”

He tries to walk away again but you grab his arm to stop him. “Listen to me, Bellamy, I’m with you. But running out there in broad daylight is not the way to fix this.”

“So, you think I should just stay here and do nothing?”

You shake your head, and Kane vocalizes a plan you were already starting to form in your head. “No. You wait until dark so you don't get caught. And then the two of you get her out of the fight and get back here without being seen. Clear?”

“Clear.”

-

The wait until nightfall is agonizingly long, and all you can do is hope that Octavia makes it until then, safely away from Echo’s arrows. When darkness finally blankets the city, only five lit candles remain. Floukru, Azgeda, Podakru, Louwoda Kliron, and Skaikru. 

Bellamy leads you through the streets of Polis, heading towards the building Echo is hiding in, careful to keep the both of you hidden from the view of any warriors or Flamekeepers. You’re close to the building when Bellamy abruptly stops and pulls you back behind a wall, disguised in the shadows. You know it’s too dangerous to ask why, but you don't need to, because a second later the Shallow Valley warrior comes into view. He seems to see something in the distance that you can’t see, because you watch him brace himself before a scream breaks free from the unseen force, and Luna comes running into view. She kills him quickly, easily, and just like that, five lit candles becomes four. 

Luna stalks out of view again, and as soon as Bellamy is sure it’s clear, he takes off running again, leading you the last few steps to the building. The two of you creep up the stairs slowly, remembering that Echo is up high, and when you reach the door to her hiding spot, Bellamy gives you two hand signals: push the door open and then immediately get down. You nod your head, letting him you know you understand, and then he counts you down from three. As soon as he puts his last finger down, you swing the door open as quickly and quietly as you can, before you immediately duck, Echo’s arrow landing in the door right above your head.

Bellamy runs forward and tackles her to the ground, and the two of them fight back and forth until he gets the upper hand, wrapping his hands around her neck and choking her. She is seconds away from death when you feel a knife to your throat and you freeze in place, voice frantic when you call out, “Bellamy.”

He turns and his face drops when he sees you, his hands instantly releasing Echo’s throat, allowing her to breathe. He steps away from her and the person at your back shoves you towards Bellamy, who catches you with ease, and when you turn around you really aren't surprised to see Roan standing there, sword pointed at you and Bellamy as he glares at you. “I should've known you three couldn't stay away. I heard you all the way down the street, you're lucky I wasn't a scout.”

Bellamy nods towards the Ice Nation spy. “We came to stop her.”

“Explain yourself.”

“I was only trying to help save our people.”

Roan sneers at her, “I am not my mother. I'm not willing to cast aside honor for power.”

“No one has to know.”

“You misunderstand. I will not allow your dishonor to give Luna an advantage, and you will not shame our clan ever again. You are Azgeda no more.”

Shock takes over Echo’s face, and you have to resist the urge to smirk at her. “Sire, wait.”

“You're banished, Echo, and when I win this conclave, make no mistake, there will be no place for you inside that bunker. Now get out of my sight, and off this battlefield without being seen, or know that you are the cause of the death of our people.”

She swallows hard, fighting back tears, before turning and leaving the room, sneaking out and off the battlefield, despite having nowhere else to go. Once you and Bellamy are alone with Roan, the sword comes back towards the two of you again, everything about the king threatening. “I take it by your presence here that your sister's still alive.”

“That's right.”

“If I call for a scout, she'll be executed right now.” He lowers the sword, leaving enough room for you to eventually pass. “But what fun would that be? You really think she can win, don't you?”

Bellamy smiles, looking proud. “I wouldn't count her out if I were you. She's survived harder things than this.”

“Before she dies, I'll tell her she's lucky to have you as a brother.”

“I got a better idea. After she guts you and before you die, you tell her I was the lucky one.”

Roan smirks at him and you feel Bellamy's hand slip into your own, letting you know it’s time to go. You step away first, pulling Bellamy behind you, both of you keeping your eyes on the Ice Nation King until you’re out of the room and back on the street. You begin the careful retreat back to the tower, taking a different path than before, just in case. It takes longer this way, but this path is darker, and easier to stay hidden in, and after a few minutes, you’re just outside the tower again. You and Bellamy look at each other and smile a little, relieved to have made it back without getting caught, but that relief is short lived. 

Just as the two of you start towards the door of the tower, two people jump out of the shadows, each one of them grabbing each of you, holding a rag over your mouth. The substance smells awful, and you know without a doubt that you shouldn't be smelling it, but you don't have much time to process that. You and Bellamy look at each other, both of your eyes wide in panic when you see the other in danger, and you fight against your captives. But by then, it's too late. The chemical has kicked in and you feel unconsciousness seize you rapidly, pulling you under at an alarmingly fast rate.

-

The first thing you notice when you wake is the heaviness in your head. 

It feels like someone popped open your skull, stuffed it full of rocks, and closed it up again. You try to pry your eyes open, but they feel heavy, weighed down by anchors. You groan and try again, prying them open with all your strength, closing them back again when they are met with a bright light. But then you hear someone next to you groan, and a hand brushes against yours, familiar and warm.

Bellamy.

This time when you get your eyes open, you turn his way, both of you looking at each other in shock before you confirm that each other is real. You reach towards each other, silently checking the other out, making sure you're okay. And as soon as you realize you are, you both turn and look around the room, realizing you must be in the bunker. Your eyes land on Clarke, standing at the desk in the room near Jaha, both of them looking towards you. You look between them, at the clench of Clarke’s jaw, the extra weight on her shoulders, and your stomach sinks. “What the hell did you do?”

Jaha is the one to answer, sounding unashamed of what he has to say. “If only one clan could survive, it might as well be ours.”

Bellamy turns to your twin, not believing what he’s hearing. “Clarke, you agreed to this?”

“It was her idea.”

You and Bellamy share an incredulous look, before you turn it on Clarke, in disbelief of what she’s done. She sets her jaw, trying to convince herself, and the two of you, of what she’s done. “We did what we had to do.”

-

next chapter

[dudeandduchess]

Hi babe! I'm so happy to finally see you open your request box! Can I request a NSFW Shinjuro Rengoku x Reader please? Please start it off with Reader stumbling upon Shinjuro touching himself to the thought of her when she came to visit her good friend Kyojuro for tea. Thank you so much!!

Hey hey, bby! Big oof bc I’ve had this sitting in my ask for so long (since December, I think) and I just got to it now. 😅 Sorry about that! Hope you like it tho. 💜✨

***

Shinjurō x F!S/O: Sinful Surprise (NSFW Scenario):

Warnings: Smut, Getting Caught Masturbating, Daddy Kink, Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Spanking, Oral Sex, Ahegao, Face Riding, D/s Themes

The second Sunday of every month was always something that (Y/n) looked forward to; not only because of her regularly scheduled tea days with Kyōjurō, but also because it meant that she would get to go to his house— granted that she didn’t get to always see whomever it was that she went there for.

But setting foot at the Rengoku estate once in a while was better than not at all, since she wouldn’t have been able to feed her fantasies of riding his father’s cock until sunrise otherwise.

Her lustful feelings for the Rengoku patriarch were her biggest secret; if they ever got out, especially to Kyōjurō, she didn’t know what would happen. So she did her best to control herself around him; especially that one time when she’d seen him walk around the house without his yukata fully on.

She felt herself get wet at the mere memory of that day, as she had used it more than once to help her satiate the lust she felt for him.

Still, even though her pussy tingled with need, she soldiered on and kept walking towards her friend’s estate.

Rubbing her thighs together did very little to alleviate her need, so she was forced to endure the throbbing need in her pussy until she got to her destination.

Kyōjurō wasn’t even outside the gates like he normally would have been so, hesitantly, she peered into the garden and checked to see if Senjurō was there.

But she had no such luck, because it was devoid of any human presence.

“Kyōjurō?” She called out softly, afraid to ruin the tranquil silence that wrapped around the expansive property.

Her feet then led her around the outer perimeter of the house, letting her check to see if her friend was there or not. Because if he weren’t, then she would just head over to Shinazugawa’s house for snacks... and maybe a little something more to take the edge off of her lust.

However, just as she was about to walk away and leave, she passed by the open doors that led to the Rengoku patriarch’s room; and the sight that greeted her made her eyes widen in surprise, as well as darken with lust.

Because right there, laid out on his futon, was Rengoku Shinjurō with his cock in his fist— with his eyes closed and his teeth gritted.

She was frozen in place at that, with her eyes never leaving the hard cock right in front of her. It was so thick and veiny that it didn’t fail to make her mouth water, but that had more to do with the fact that she had been waiting so long to see what laid beneath the older man’s clothes.

Had she known just how monstrous of a cock he would have packed, then she would have made a move on him sooner.

“Fuck, (Y/n), you little slut.” The words reached her ears, but failed to register fully in her mind. And it wasn’t until Shinjurō growled her name once more that she was shaken out of her trance.

(Y/n) felt like she was in a dream, because there was simply no way that the man she’d been lusting after would be masturbating to the thought of her.

Yet there he was, as captivating as how she’d always imagined him to be.

Slowly, her feet shuffled forward to bring her closer to him, only to freeze in place when she saw those piercing eyes of his snap open and immediately zero in on her.

However, instead of being angry and affronted at her voyeurism, Shinjurō’s lips quirked up into a salacious smirk; one that had (Y/n)’s panties getting even more drenched than before.

“Hm. Like what you see?” Shinjurō stated smugly, as his eyes roved over the young woman’s form. From the top of her head, to the tips of her toes, she was perfect to him; and every inch of her served to make him harder than he was earlier.

His cock twitched in his hand, and he looked down at it before looking back up at her.

And slowly, he let go of his erection and allowed her to marvel at the sheer size of it.

“I- I’m sorry, Rengoku-sama,” (Y/n) piped up— her voice catching in her throat as she desperately tried to let her gaze flicker away from Shinjurō’s erection; to no avail, as her eyes only kept gravitating back towards his mouthwatering length.

At that, the former Hashira propped himself up on one elbow and used his right hand to beckon her forward; just two crooks of his index finger was enough to make (Y/n) go walking right to him— and the blatant show of submission made him grin.

“Come here.”

Every step felt so agonizingly slow for the young woman but, eventually, she found herself standing right by Shinjurō’s futon.

He ogled her legs, which were on full display from her skirt, before locking her eyes with his and saying, “Spying on a man is wrong, baby. How do you plan on atoning for you sin?”

The pet name made a shiver race down (Y/n)’s spine, and it was only after it had passed through her that she realized that her eyes had been glued to Shinjurō’s generously sized cock.

“Tell me, have you done this with my son as well? Watched him stroke his cock to his own fantasies of you?” He practically sneered out the last bit, as he felt the first few flares of jealousy spring to life inside him.

He was never a jealous man to begin with, but the mere thought of anyone else having had the pleasure of tasting (Y/n) first grated at him incessantly— like it always did.

Because, ever since he’d first met her, he had wanted nothing more than to bend her over and put his cock inside her.

If he could have, he’d have already spent his days waking up with his cock snugly inside her cunt. But he had to banish those thoughts before, as a perfect opportunity to seduce her had never presented itself.

Not until that moment.

He had never been more thankful for the Demon Slayer Corps for calling Kyōjurō away to an emergency Hashira meeting— which left (Y/n) in his clutches.

(Y/n)’s warm cheeks and frazzled nerves did nothing to hide the nervousness she felt, yet she still found herself answering, “No. We’re just friends.”

It was a blatant lie, and it made her feel so horrible; but he didn’t have to know what went on between her and Kyōjurō behind closed doors.

”With some other man, then?” Shinjurō growled out, as he moved to tug (Y/n) down onto the floor. Luckily, her reflexes kicked in and had her kneeling down to compensate for his sudden movement.

However, she remained silent— as she could just tell that he wouldn’t like her answer.

The former Hashira exhaled exasperatedly at that, before clicking his tongue and roughly dragging her to straddle his hips— where his erection pressed insistently against the crotch of her panties.

“I’m going to make you forget every other cock except mine. From now on you’ll be my fucktoy; my filthy little cocksleeve. Mine to do what I please with, and mine to fuck whenever I want. Got that, baby?”

She couldn’t deny that his words made something inside her so pliant, as she nodded her assent. “Yes.”

“And you will call me Daddy at all times. Failure to do so will warrant punishment.” Shinjurō emphasized his point by bringing a hand down on one of her ass cheeks, before squeezing it tightly and spanking it again through the bottom of her skirt.

“Yes, Daddy.”

A smug smile stretched the older man’s lips, as he settled back down on his futon, and tugged (Y/n) up until her clothed cunt was hovering above his mouth.

“Strip. Now.”

She was hesitant at first, as her fingers moved to gingerly unfasten her Slayer uniform; shrugging the top off along with her haori, while she tried not to moan aloud at the sensations of Shinjurō tracing her clothed slit with the tip of his tongue.

He’d always known that the young woman had always lusted after him; it was evident in the way that her gaze lingered on him whenever he was around, as well as the manner in which she held herself during those times.

(Y/n) had always thought that she was slick and covert, but she was no match for a former Hashira— what with her merely being a Kinoto.

Shinjurō’s senses had always been sharper than her own, so no matter how well she thought she’d hidden how wet she’d gotten at the sight of him, he could always sense the want coming from her.

“I’m going to punish you with my tongue first, then you’re going to be a good little slut and take Daddy’s cock in this tight little cunt,” At that, the older man’s arms wrapped around the tops of her thighs, so that his hands could squeeze the globes of her ass.

A mere whimper answered him, so he brought his right hand down against her flesh in a hard slap. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl and ride your cock, I promise.” (Y/n) cried out, just as Shinjurō moved her panties aside and bunched her skirt up in his left hand.

He didn’t answer her verbally; instead, the former Hashira traced her wet slit with the flat of his tongue, before sucking her clit into his mouth. He then rolled the tiny bundle of nerves between his lips, which caused (Y/n)’s muscles to tense up, as her hands came down to grip her lover’s hair.

Still, the older man didn’t lighten up on his actions. In fact, he pulled down further against his mouth, just so he could keep playing with her clit.

(Y/n) felt like she was all sorts of disoriented at that alone. Her head was thrown forward, with her eyes screwed shut and her lips parted into a tiny ‘o’; while her thighs quivered involuntarily, as the tight coil inside her stretched further and further— until it snapped.

With a cry, her orgasm flooded through her entire body— making her hips try and lift up from Shinjurō’s mouth. But he wasn’t having that, so he tightened his grasp on her right right, while his left hand bunched her skirt harder; to the point that they heard a crisp ripping sound echo in the room.

Still, neither of them cared.

Especially when Shinjurō slid her down to rest on his stomach.

She left a trail of her cum along her lover’s chest, but he didn’t mind that at all as he eyed her slick cunt hungrily.

Without any warning, the older man lifted her up and flipped their positions; with him hovering above her, and with her back flat against the futon.

And slowly, Shinjurō moved to grasp her legs by the ankles, before slinging her knees up against his shoulders in a breeding press. “By the time I’m done fucking you, you’re going to be pregnant with my brats.”

His left hand drifted down to rest against her hip, while the right one moved to grip the base of his aching cock. He first ran the head of his erection along her wet slit; relishing in the lewd sounds that made, before using his dick to slap her clit.

(Y/n)’s entire body seemed to spasm at that, which had him smugly smirking as he looked down at her.

“Do you want me to knock you up, baby?” He asked in a gruff tone, right before slapping her clit with his dick once more. “Get you fucking pregnant with my seed?”

Frantically, (Y/n) nodded— almost delirious with the need to feel his cock inside her throbbing pussy; even though she had just orgasmed a mere few minutes before. “Please, Daddy. I need you to fill me up with your cum until I’m pregnant with your child. Please, please, Daddy.”

Shinjurō couldn’t have held back his happiness at that, even if he tried.

So, he placed the head of his cock right at her entrance and pushed in slowly. His eyes never left (Y/n)’s face, and he took note of how her eyes had practically rolled into the back of her head when he’d bottomed out inside her. And instantaneously, his left hand anchored itself to her waist.

The head of his cock brushed against her cervix, so he took advantage of that and moved his hips to an angle that he was sure would bring her immense pleasure.

(Y/n) had never felt so full in her entire life; not even Kyōjurō’s cock felt so thick inside her. She was close to bursting at the seams, and she was also sure that it was evident on her face; because when Shinjurō began thrusting inside her, her mouth had instantly parted in a scream while her tongue lolled out the side of her mouth.

Every hard thrust pressed the head of his cock up against her cervix, and the amount of pleasure it caused to course through her entirety was nowhere near what the younger Rengoku could make her feel.

“Fuck, baby. Your cunt feels so good around Daddy’s cock,” Shinjurō groaned, as his grip on either side of (Y/n)’s waist tightened; so tight that he was sure he was going to leave finger-shaped bruises on her skin. “Such a fucking slut. Daddy’s little slut.”

More filthy words of praise rolled off of the former Hashira’s tongue, all while the sounds of skin slapping against skin reverberated off the walls.

And when he increased the pace and force of his movements, (Y/n) could only mewl and claw at the futon beneath her for some semblance of purchase. It felt as if her mind was slowly starting to float away with every drag of her lover’s cock against her walls; all that there was in her world were Shinjurō and his amazing dick.

“Please, please, Daddy. Knock me up.” The young woman cried, while her fingers curled around the thick material of the futon. She was so close to cumming, and the fact was made even more evident with the way she frantically tried to meet her lover’s thrusts.

The muscles in her legs began to quiver once more, as her walls clamped down hard on the thick cock that kept fervently hammering in and out of her tight cunt. “I’m cumming, Daddy!”

With those words hanging in the air, Shinjurō bottomed out inside (Y/n), succumbing to the peak of his own pleasure and shooting ropes of his thick cum inside her.

And even though he was done filling her up, he made no move to pull his cock out of her. Instead, he leaned down and pressed the softest of kisses against her now-closed lips. “I’m nowhere near done with you, baby.”

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Truth Pt. 7

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Request:

What’s up sug! sorry you’re struggling right now but I’ve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me I’d absolutely love for YOU TO DO JT So basically Bucky X Enhanced reader who are fuckin enemies. Hate each other to every last fiber of their beings bc Bucky is rude and she calls him out on it. AnywHs, they get drunk, truth or dare (go crZy baby) and LOTS LF dirty talk if u wanna do smut but if u don’t then buck taking care of her while she’s drunk cause she admitted her feelings

Pairing: Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)

Summary: Since The Avengers gave you a home the only blight has been Bucky Barnes, a ghost from your past that you can’t seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But… a simple game reveals that maybe things aren’t quite so simple. (Post Winter Soldier AU)

Warnings: Honestly, this is, and I’m not lying, kind of FLUFFY WHAT?!

A/N: These two. I just... wow. I really like them ok? Also, I like thinking about fun quirks or hobbies Bucky may find himself being drawn to after everything. Little frivolous things that bring some happiness into his life and space.

I just hope y’all enjoy these tender moments. ♥️

(Sorry for the long post with no “Read More” it’s glitching and some folks can’t see the whole thing for some reason.)

Tags are open!

@midnightdream83 @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @handplucked @buckysstar @sam-jae @marauder--harder @for-the-love-of-the-fandom   @meg-asaur @jewelofwinter

Even though the elevator ride to his apartment is short you’re already dozing a bit in his arms. Your face half buried in his chest, softly breathing, though your expression is far from relaxed.

Once inside he gently sets you on the couch, laying your head on a throw pillow and tucking the thick blanket around you. In just a week you’d lost mass, he could feel bones where he had been unable to feel or see them when you’d last been here.

Your power, he knew, meant you needed to stay well fed because it could drain your body, pulling from your own metabolism to keep running. From what he could tell it had been running for the past week.

You groan a little and reach for him. A sad smile rises on his lips, “I’m not going anywhere, doll,” he strokes your forehead pressing a kiss to the crease there, “just rest a second. Nothing is gonna get through me, you’re safe.” This seems to work as your forehead smooths a bit and your hand relaxes.

“Sargent Barnes,” Jarvis pipes up quietly once Bucky is in the kitchen. “I do not want to impose but I have noticed Ms. Y/L/N’s distress for days. She has not granted me permission to request any additional aid on her behalf.”

“Not shocking,” Bucky says looking over at you.

“I will continue to heed her wishes as long as her life is not in immediate risk. However, she is massively undernourished, if she goes another day without eating in her condition I will be forced to notify medical per my programming.”

“I understand, Jarvis. Thanks.”

“May I suggest a light soup and an electrolyte fortified beverage? I worry her system cannot handle much else.”

“Good call.” He opens the pantry to find a can of chicken noodle.

“That would be most excellent I believe. I will have one of the bots bring the beverage for her.”

“Thanks, Jarvis.”

“Of course, sir.”

Bucky isn’t much of a cook but thankfully he can manage a can of soup. Just before it’s done Dum-E slips in quietly with a basket from the main kitchen with bottles of Pedialyte. He pats the weird bot on the head, always viewing it like a friendly dog more than a machine, and it lets itself out.

He brings the soup to the coffee table and gently tries to wake you.

“Y/N,” he shakes your shoulder gently, “I know you’re tired but I need you to wake up for just a few minutes.” Nothing. “Doll? Come on, wake up for me.” Another shake.

With a gasp, you shoot up, frantically looking around the room, tendrils of light snaking every which way under your skin. Bucky grabs your shoulders.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” his voice is kind but stern, he needs you to hear him. “Look at me, Y/N.” You do finally and the light comes on, he can feel you relax in his grip.

Moving a strand of hair from your face he says, “Sorry, I know you need sleep, but you’ve got to try and eat something.” Your head sort of falls to the side rather than turn to see the soup on the table behind Bucky, brows knit.

“You don’t have to eat much, just something. Ok?” You nod, eyes fluttering a bit. For a second he’s worried he’s going to have to feed you, worried you’re that far gone, but you pull your self together and reach for the bowl. He hands it to you and surprisingly you make it through half.

“I can’t,” you say handing it back.

“That's ok,” he takes it. “Here,” he hands you the Pedialyte standing to take your bowl to the kitchen. “Sip this.”

You smile a bit, “So bossy,” you say looking up at him. A genuine smile fills his face, you had said that the night you were together. He strokes the side of your face and heads into the kitchen.

Back in the living room, he sits at the end of the couch as you drink what you can. You set it down, shaking your head.

“Ok, let’s get you to bed.” You look up at him, terror on your face. “I’ll be with you. If you want me to be.”

“Please,” you say, your voice less hoarse than before. He nods and holds out a hand. You stand a little more steadily and make your way to his room.

He gives you a shirt and a pair of boxers to change into assuming you don’t want to sleep in your gym clothes. While you’re in the bathroom he changes too, into pajama bottoms and turns the bed down. When you come out he has to force himself to not gawk. For some reason, you look incredible in his shirt and boxers. He swallows hard.

“I guess this will make three pieces of clothing I need to get back to you,” you say, voice sounding steady. Good.

“I’ll send you an invoice,” he says taking a few steps toward you. Tenderly he caresses your arm, “Come on.”

In the bed, you immediately curl against him and he holds your right hand in his left pressing it to his chest.

He thinks you’re just about asleep when you say, “Bucky?”

“Yes, doll?”

“You meant it earlier right?” He doesn’t respond, “Your promise…”

His heart aches, “I did.”

“You’ll kill me, then.”

He won’t lie, “No.” You shoot up and stare at him, betrayal on your face. He’s unfazed and just cups your face in his right hand. “I’ll kill you if you’re about to lose control, I told you that the other night. But Hydra… anyone else… they won’t ever get close enough to you for it to matter.” His tone shifts cold and certain, “Ever.”

You stare at him for a minute before that sinks in, just how much he means it, what exactly it means. That he would take on anything to protect you from becoming someone else weapon again, anything.

You nod and in a flash your lips are on his. His hand is still hovering in the air where your face had been before it slowly rests on the back of your head. He lets this go on longer than he should he knows, you need rest, but he can’t help how good it feels to feel your lips on his, to have you in his arms.

Eventually, you sit up, leaning against his chest, looking down into his face, “Thank you.”

[Reader]

Your head is throbbing and your mouth feels like a damn desert. Logically you knew you weren’t fully out of the woods. This bout of trauma wrecked you, body and soul. Even so, you feel more human than you had for days. It was a start.

Bucky’s warm presence behind you feels something like comfort. You can’t tell if he’s awake but you press even closer to him, the weight of his right arm across your torso grounding. Reacting to your movement his hand flexes, laying flat on your stomach, holding you tight against him.

“Hey there,” the warmth of his breath on the back of your ear sends tingles all over your body. He begins to lift his arm and move but you grab it, holding him in place, not ready for him to let go. Immediately he settles back down and presses a kiss to the back of your head. Ugh, your hair was filthy, not that he seems to mind.

“Hey,” you rasp, voice almost as cracked as your lips.

“Excuse me,” Jarvis intones. “I’m very sorry to intrude but I have an urgent message from Mr. Stark informing you both that you need to be in the conference room in two hours. I didn’t want to wake you.” Bless Jarvis.

“You can tell Mr. Stark to go fuck himself,” Bucky snaps, his body tensing.

“Don’t tell him that Jarvis,” you sounded like a pack a day smoker.

“I had no intention to.”

You turn in Bucky’s arms to face him, “What the hell?”

His face is a mask of concern, “Whatever they need can wait. You’re not in any condition-“

“I can handle a conversation Bucky,” probably… “I mean… they gave us almost a week. That’s more than fair…”

“No.” His tone says there’s no argument here and your brows raise, “You need rest.”

Gently you move a few stray strands of hair from his face, “So do you,” the circles under his eyes were still dark.

He takes your hand in his and kisses your palm, “I’m ok, doll.”

“Please,” you roll your eyes, “we’re both far from ok. They deserve to know why.” He knows you’re right and sighs heavily before kissing your forehead.

“Ok.” He squeezes you tight before sitting up cross-legged on the bed.

As he leans forward you can’t help but ogle the way the muscles in his back move. If you weren’t so cotton-mouthed right now you’re not certain you wouldn’t be drooling. Sex drive had to be a good thing right?

Slowly, you sit up, not wanting to set the room spinning and kiss his back before laying your cheek on the warm flesh there. He hums a little, contented sound, reaching back to grab your hand.

“What if we have them come here?” His low voice vibrates through his torso.

“Here?”

“Yeah. Or your place. I just… if they wanna talk we can talk but they’re gonna come to you where you can be comfortable and…”

“I’m not in danger from them, Bucky.” The look on his face tells you he doesn’t trust that. It’s understandable, his concern. 

Before, in Hydra, your display with him would have been grounds to be wiped and iced. You sigh heavily, “My place is… not currently fit for other people…” That was putting it lightly. Five days of depression, no sleep, and fighting the storm in your head meant it was just as wrecked as you were.

“They can come here, it’s fine,” he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Ok,” you pull away from him and run your fingers through your greasy hair. “I’ll head up and shower then-”

“No,” he says shaking his head, “you’re going to have some breakfast before you do anything.” You glance at the clock, it’s 12:30pm. “Brunch, whatever,” he says with a smile.

The thought of food makes your stomach growl, “Actually not going to fight you there.”

Bucky makes you simple eggs, dry toast, and water per Jarvis’ suggestion before getting in the shower himself. Surprising yourself, you manage to eat it all and don’t want to throw up. Progress. When he comes out, you’re loading the dishes into the washer.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, drying his hair, looking better than he had any right in his navy henley and grey sweats.

“Wanted to feel useful,” you say with a shrug. He comes into the kitchen and pulls you to him, smelling like that tea tree shampoo and toothpaste. This whole thing is so weird. Maybe weird is ok though…

“Just shower here, I’m sure I’ve got something you can wear,” his lips press against the crown of your head. You nod against his chest, “You not fighting me is a strange change of pace,” his voice is tinged with humor.

You shrug, the side of your face still pressed to him. “Don’t want to face my apartment yet is all...”

His left-hand takes your chin and tilts your face up, “That’s ok.” The corners of his eyes crinkle a bit when he smiles, “You’re welcome here as long as you like. When you’re ready I can help you get your place up to code… if you want.”

A laugh bursts from you and his brows knit in concern. “A little over a week ago I was thinking of ways to kill you. Now…” Your laugh swallows the rest of that statement.

“Now maybe you’re glad you didn’t?” He asks with a smirk. You cup his face and rise up a bit on your toes to press a quick kiss on his lips.

“Maybe. Don’t push your luck though,” you say with a wink.

He shakes his head, smiling, “Go shower.”

Stepping back from him your hand rises to your chest, “Are you saying I’m dirty?!”

He laughs, “No. I’m saying, you’re greasy. But we could work on dirty later if you want.” A devious smile lights his face and his tongue flits across his bottom lip. 

You can’t help the huge smile that stretches it’s way across your own face and you playfully smack his chest as you walk past him, “Dick.”

Another laugh tumbles from him. You’re a few steps away when you feel his arms wrap around you and pull your back tight against his torso. His face is pressed against yours, his short beard tickling the skin on your cheek. You hold on to his forearms and lean into the embrace, letting the comforting feeling of him wash over you.

“I’ll put some clothes on the bed,” he says next to your ear, “and deal with Stark. Take your time.” With that, he kisses your cheek and releases you.

You sit on the bench in the shower and let the steam engulf you. The heat may relax some but for you it’s a boost, sending a low hum of energy thrumming through you, clearing your head. It’s a good thing too. There’s a feeling in your gut that this is going to be a fairly unpleasant conversation.

Sighing you stand, you’ve been in here long enough to be a touch pruney. Your muscles still ache from being tense with constant adrenaline for days and your legs shake just a bit but you’re miles ahead of where you were last night. It sinks in a bit just how close to the edge you were. If Bucky hadn’t come in… would you have lost it? And if you had…

Pushing the thought from your mind you shut the water off and reach for the plush towel. Your reflection in the mirror is, disheartening, to say the least. Hopefully, the hollowness in your cheeks and the purple under your eyes would tell enough of the story for you when everyone came in with their questions. You roughly dry your hair and find a hair tie in a drawer to toss it into a messy bun.

On the bed, Bucky has left you a pair of drawstring sweats and a hoodie, both in his favorite midnight blue color. They’re just big enough to be oversized but it’s so comfortable to be surrounded by warmth and his smell. Your eyes ache to close.

Bucky’s in the kitchen, setting out mugs and the smell of coffee fills the air. You were certain coffee wouldn’t be on Jarvis’ recommended list of nutrients for you at the moment but you’re feeling sleepier by the minute. If they want you to make it through this you’re going to need that boost.

“That smells like everything I need right now,” you hop onto one of the metal barstools by his island. He doesn’t question you and pours a large cup.

“How do you take it?”

“Black.” Your fingers curl around the mug he hands you, it has the Brooklyn bridge on the side, one of those things you find at gift shops all over the city. It’s now that you realize all the mugs are different.

Some like this one are souvenirs, a Broadway mug with comedy and tragedy masks, one from the Met with a Monet on the side. There are a few that look vintage, from the 70’s maybe. Others are novelty mugs. There’s one that looks like a camera lens, one says “Get Shit Done” on the side, another is shaped like a donut. You can’t help but smile.

He notices you looking, “I… uh, like mugs I guess.” Awkwardly he runs a hand through his hair. “Figured coffee would be good. My… my ma always made coffee when people came over…”

Your heart may actually burst. “You’re cute,” you say sipping what is actually an exceptional cup of coffee. He snorts and pours his own cup, this one with “Rocket Fuel” on the side and the NASA logo.

“Come on,” he heads into the living room. You hadn’t noticed he’d pulled his dining room chairs in here to accommodate the others. “There’s still a bit before they get here.”

Plopping onto the couch he hits play on the remote sitting on the side table, old jazz fills the space. Unsure where to sit you stand awkwardly between the kitchen and living room weighing your options.

“Psst,” he quips from the couch, you meet his gaze. A smile fills his face and beckons with his left hand. You take a tentative step in his direction, “The big chairs are comfortable too if-”

“No,” you say as you set your mug on the coffee table and sit next to him. His left arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you close. You lay your head against his chest and immediately feel your body relax. “This is perfect.”

[afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin]

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Request:

What’s up sug! sorry you’re struggling right now but I’ve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me I’d absolutely love for YOU TO DO JT So basically Bucky X Enhanced reader who are fuckin enemies. Hate each other to every last fiber of their beings bc Bucky is rude and she calls him out on it. AnywHs, they get drunk, truth or dare (go crZy baby) and LOTS LF dirty talk if u wanna do smut but if u don’t then buck taking care of her while she’s drunk cause she admitted her feelings

Pairing: Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)

Summary: Since The Avengers gave you a home the only blight has been Bucky Barnes, a ghost from your past that you can’t seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But… a simple game reveals that maybe things aren’t quite so simple. (Post Winter Soldier AU)

Warnings: Honestly, this is, and I’m not lying, kind of FLUFFY WHAT?!

A/N: These two. I just… wow. I really like them ok? Also, I like thinking about fun quirks or hobbies Bucky may find himself being drawn to after everything. Little frivolous things that bring some happiness into his life and space.

I just hope y’all enjoy these tender moments. ♥️

(This is a repost because tumblr is stupid and somehow the link or something in the original is corrupted. I apologize for the double ((or triple idek what’s happening at this point)) notification tag list folks.)

Tags are open!

@midnightdream83 @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @handplucked @buckysstar @sam-jae @marauder–harder @for-the-love-of-the-fandom   @meg-asaur @jewelofwinter

Even though the elevator ride to his apartment is short you’re already dozing a bit in his arms. Your face half buried in his chest, softly breathing, though your expression is far from relaxed.

Once inside he gently sets you on the couch, laying your head on a throw pillow and tucking the thick blanket around you. In just a week you’d lost mass, he could feel bones where he had been unable to feel or see them when you’d last been here.

Your power, he knew, meant you needed to stay well fed because it could drain your body, pulling from your own metabolism to keep running. From what he could tell it had been running for the past week.

You groan a little and reach for him. A sad smile rises on his lips, “I’m not going anywhere, doll,” he strokes your forehead pressing a kiss to the crease there, “just rest a second. Nothing is gonna get through me, you’re safe.” This seems to work as your forehead smooths a bit and your hand relaxes.

“Sargent Barnes,” Jarvis pipes up quietly once Bucky is in the kitchen. “I do not want to impose but I have noticed Ms. Y/L/N’s distress for days. She has not granted me permission to request any additional aid on her behalf.”

“Not shocking,” Bucky says looking over at you.

“I will continue to heed her wishes as long as her life is not in immediate risk. However, she is massively undernourished, if she goes another day without eating in her condition I will be forced to notify medical per my programming.”

“I understand, Jarvis. Thanks.”

“May I suggest a light soup and an electrolyte fortified beverage? I worry her system cannot handle much else.”

“Good call.” He opens the pantry to find a can of chicken noodle.

“That would be most excellent I believe. I will have one of the bots bring the beverage for her.”

“Thanks, Jarvis.”

“Of course, sir.”

Bucky isn’t much of a cook but thankfully he can manage a can of soup. Just before it’s done Dum-E slips in quietly with a basket from the main kitchen with bottles of Pedialyte. He pats the weird bot on the head, always viewing it like a friendly dog more than a machine, and it lets itself out.

He brings the soup to the coffee table and gently tries to wake you.

“Y/N,” he shakes your shoulder gently, “I know you’re tired but I need you to wake up for just a few minutes.” Nothing. “Doll? Come on, wake up for me.” Another shake.

With a gasp, you shoot up, frantically looking around the room, tendrils of light snaking every which way under your skin. Bucky grabs your shoulders.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” his voice is kind but stern, he needs you to hear him. “Look at me, Y/N.” You do finally and the light comes on, he can feel you relax in his grip.

Moving a strand of hair from your face he says, “Sorry, I know you need sleep, but you’ve got to try and eat something.” Your head sort of falls to the side rather than turn to see the soup on the table behind Bucky, brows knit.

“You don’t have to eat much, just something. Ok?” You nod, eyes fluttering a bit. For a second he’s worried he’s going to have to feed you, worried you’re that far gone, but you pull your self together and reach for the bowl. He hands it to you and surprisingly you make it through half.

“I can’t,” you say handing it back.

“That's ok,” he takes it. “Here,” he hands you the Pedialyte standing to take your bowl to the kitchen. “Sip this.”

You smile a bit, “So bossy,” you say looking up at him. A genuine smile fills his face, you had said that the night you were together. He strokes the side of your face and heads into the kitchen.

Back in the living room, he sits at the end of the couch as you drink what you can. You set it down, shaking your head.

“Ok, let’s get you to bed.” You look up at him, terror on your face. “I’ll be with you. If you want me to be.”

“Please,” you say, your voice less hoarse than before. He nods and holds out a hand. You stand a little more steadily and make your way to his room.

He gives you a shirt and a pair of boxers to change into assuming you don’t want to sleep in your gym clothes. While you’re in the bathroom he changes too, into pajama bottoms and turns the bed down. When you come out he has to force himself to not gawk. For some reason, you look incredible in his shirt and boxers. He swallows hard.

“I guess this will make three pieces of clothing I need to get back to you,” you say, voice sounding steady. Good.

“I’ll send you an invoice,” he says taking a few steps toward you. Tenderly he caresses your arm, “Come on.”

In the bed, you immediately curl against him and he holds your right hand in his left pressing it to his chest.

He thinks you’re just about asleep when you say, “Bucky?”

“Yes, doll?”

“You meant it earlier right?” He doesn’t respond, “Your promise…”

His heart aches, “I did.”

“You’ll kill me, then.”

He won’t lie, “No.” You shoot up and stare at him, betrayal on your face. He’s unfazed and just cups your face in his right hand. “I’ll kill you if you’re about to lose control, I told you that the other night. But Hydra… anyone else… they won’t ever get close enough to you for it to matter.” His tone shifts cold and certain, “Ever.”

You stare at him for a minute before that sinks in, just how much he means it, what exactly it means. That he would take on anything to protect you from becoming someone else weapon again, anything.

You nod and in a flash your lips are on his. His hand is still hovering in the air where your face had been before it slowly rests on the back of your head. He lets this go on longer than he should he knows, you need rest, but he can’t help how good it feels to feel your lips on his, to have you in his arms.

Eventually, you sit up, leaning against his chest, looking down into his face, “Thank you.”

[Reader]

Your head is throbbing and your mouth feels like a damn desert. Logically you knew you weren’t fully out of the woods. This bout of trauma wrecked you, body and soul. Even so, you feel more human than you had for days. It was a start.

Bucky’s warm presence behind you feels something like comfort. You can’t tell if he’s awake but you press even closer to him, the weight of his right arm across your torso grounding. Reacting to your movement his hand flexes, laying flat on your stomach, holding you tight against him.

“Hey there,” the warmth of his breath on the back of your ear sends tingles all over your body. He begins to lift his arm and move but you grab it, holding him in place, not ready for him to let go. Immediately he settles back down and presses a kiss to the back of your head. Ugh, your hair was filthy, not that he seems to mind.

“Hey,” you rasp, voice almost as cracked as your lips.

“Excuse me,” Jarvis intones. “I’m very sorry to intrude but I have an urgent message from Mr. Stark informing you both that you need to be in the conference room in two hours. I didn’t want to wake you.” Bless Jarvis.

“You can tell Mr. Stark to go fuck himself,” Bucky snaps, his body tensing.

“Don’t tell him that Jarvis,” you sounded like a pack a day smoker.

“I had no intention to.”

You turn in Bucky’s arms to face him, “What the hell?”

His face is a mask of concern, “Whatever they need can wait. You’re not in any condition-“

“I can handle a conversation Bucky,” probably… “I mean… they gave us almost a week. That’s more than fair…”

“No.” His tone says there’s no argument here and your brows raise, “You need rest.”

Gently you move a few stray strands of hair from his face, “So do you,” the circles under his eyes were still dark.

He takes your hand in his and kisses your palm, “I’m ok, doll.���

“Please,” you roll your eyes, “we’re both far from ok. They deserve to know why.” He knows you’re right and sighs heavily before kissing your forehead.

“Ok.” He squeezes you tight before sitting up cross-legged on the bed.

As he leans forward you can’t help but ogle the way the muscles in his back move. If you weren’t so cotton-mouthed right now you’re not certain you wouldn’t be drooling. Sex drive had to be a good thing right?

Slowly, you sit up, not wanting to set the room spinning and kiss his back before laying your cheek on the warm flesh there. He hums a little, contented sound, reaching back to grab your hand.

“What if we have them come here?” His low voice vibrates through his torso.

“Here?”

“Yeah. Or your place. I just… if they wanna talk we can talk but they’re gonna come to you where you can be comfortable and…”

“I’m not in danger from them, Bucky.” The look on his face tells you he doesn’t trust that. It’s understandable, his concern.

Before, in Hydra, your display with him would have been grounds to be wiped and iced. You sigh heavily, “My place is… not currently fit for other people…” That was putting it lightly. Five days of depression, no sleep, and fighting the storm in your head meant it was just as wrecked as you were.

“They can come here, it’s fine,” he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Ok,” you pull away from him and run your fingers through your greasy hair. “I’ll head up and shower then-”

“No,” he says shaking his head, “you’re going to have some breakfast before you do anything.” You glance at the clock, it’s 12:30pm. “Brunch, whatever,” he says with a smile.

The thought of food makes your stomach growl, “Actually not going to fight you there.”

Bucky makes you simple eggs, dry toast, and water per Jarvis’ suggestion before getting in the shower himself. Surprising yourself, you manage to eat it all and don’t want to throw up. Progress. When he comes out, you’re loading the dishes into the washer.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, drying his hair, looking better than he had any right in his navy henley and grey sweats.

“Wanted to feel useful,” you say with a shrug. He comes into the kitchen and pulls you to him, smelling like that tea tree shampoo and toothpaste. This whole thing is so weird. Maybe weird is ok though…

“Just shower here, I’m sure I’ve got something you can wear,” his lips press against the crown of your head. You nod against his chest, “You not fighting me is a strange change of pace,” his voice is tinged with humor.

You shrug, the side of your face still pressed to him. “Don’t want to face my apartment yet is all...”

His left-hand takes your chin and tilts your face up, “That’s ok.” The corners of his eyes crinkle a bit when he smiles, “You’re welcome here as long as you like. When you’re ready I can help you get your place up to code… if you want.”

A laugh bursts from you and his brows knit in concern. “A little over a week ago I was thinking of ways to kill you. Now…” Your laugh swallows the rest of that statement.

“Now maybe you’re glad you didn’t?” He asks with a smirk. You cup his face and rise up a bit on your toes to press a quick kiss on his lips.

“Maybe. Don’t push your luck though,” you say with a wink.

He shakes his head, smiling, “Go shower.”

Stepping back from him your hand rises to your chest, “Are you saying I’m dirty?!”

He laughs, “No. I’m saying, you’re greasy. But we could work on dirty later if you want.” A devious smile lights his face and his tongue flits across his bottom lip.

You can’t help the huge smile that stretches it’s way across your own face and you playfully smack his chest as you walk past him, “Dick.”

Another laugh tumbles from him. You’re a few steps away when you feel his arms wrap around you and pull your back tight against his torso. His face is pressed against yours, his short beard tickling the skin on your cheek. You hold on to his forearms and lean into the embrace, letting the comforting feeling of him wash over you.

“I’ll put some clothes on the bed,” he says next to your ear, “and deal with Stark. Take your time.” With that, he kisses your cheek and releases you.

You sit on the bench in the shower and let the steam engulf you. The heat may relax some but for you it’s a boost, sending a low hum of energy thrumming through you, clearing your head. It’s a good thing too. There’s a feeling in your gut that this is going to be a fairly unpleasant conversation.

Sighing you stand, you’ve been in here long enough to be a touch pruney. Your muscles still ache from being tense with constant adrenaline for days and your legs shake just a bit but you’re miles ahead of where you were last night. It sinks in a bit just how close to the edge you were. If Bucky hadn’t come in… would you have lost it? And if you had…

Pushing the thought from your mind you shut the water off and reach for the plush towel. Your reflection in the mirror is, disheartening, to say the least. Hopefully, the hollowness in your cheeks and the purple under your eyes would tell enough of the story for you when everyone came in with their questions. You roughly dry your hair and find a hair tie in a drawer to toss it into a messy bun.

On the bed, Bucky has left you a pair of drawstring sweats and a hoodie, both in his favorite midnight blue color. They’re just big enough to be oversized but it’s so comfortable to be surrounded by warmth and his smell. Your eyes ache to close.

Bucky’s in the kitchen, setting out mugs and the smell of coffee fills the air. You were certain coffee wouldn’t be on Jarvis’ recommended list of nutrients for you at the moment but you’re feeling sleepier by the minute. If they want you to make it through this you’re going to need that boost.

“That smells like everything I need right now,” you hop onto one of the metal barstools by his island. He doesn’t question you and pours a large cup.

“How do you take it?”

“Black.” Your fingers curl around the mug he hands you, it has the Brooklyn bridge on the side, one of those things you find at gift shops all over the city. It’s now that you realize all the mugs are different.

Some like this one are souvenirs, a Broadway mug with comedy and tragedy masks, one from the Met with a Monet on the side. There are a few that look vintage, from the 70’s maybe. Others are novelty mugs. There’s one that looks like a camera lens, one says “Get Shit Done” on the side, another is shaped like a donut. You can’t help but smile.

He notices you looking, “I… uh, like mugs I guess.” Awkwardly he runs a hand through his hair. “Figured coffee would be good. My… my ma always made coffee when people came over…”

Your heart may actually burst. “You’re cute,” you say sipping what is actually an exceptional cup of coffee. He snorts and pours his own cup, this one with “Rocket Fuel” on the side and the NASA logo.

“Come on,” he heads into the living room. You hadn’t noticed he’d pulled his dining room chairs in here to accommodate the others. “There’s still a bit before they get here.”

Plopping onto the couch he hits play on the remote sitting on the side table, old jazz fills the space. Unsure where to sit you stand awkwardly between the kitchen and living room weighing your options.

“Psst,” he quips from the couch, you meet his gaze. A smile fills his face and beckons with his left hand. You take a tentative step in his direction, “The big chairs are comfortable too if-”

“No,” you say as you set your mug on the coffee table and sit next to him. His left arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you close. You lay your head against his chest and immediately feel your body relax. “This is perfect.”

[stateofloveandnegan]

My Girl - Eddie Vedder

Hi i love your stories and finally got the courage to request my own. It’s kinda long though so i might make this into two asks. I want something from Eddie’s POV where he’s been in a relationship with a fellow musician and they’re both on tour at Lollapalooza 92. He’s either backstage or in the crowd watching her perform and he’s thinking to himself how much he loves and adores her. They’ve also been together since he got to Seattle(Beth cheated or they broke up etc) bc she’s part of the scene.

(part 2) If you do smut i want it to be bc he can’t control himself anymore and just wants to worship this punk rock/poet goddess that loves and understands him and he chases her back to her trailer and they have really sweet intimate sex. Bonus if you put flashbacks from other people from that tour that make him jealous with comments about her and laugh at how protective he gets. I hope you enjoy writing this :) (ps listen to PJ Harvey bc that’s essentially who i envision the girl as)

Requested by: @golddustwomxn​

Warning(s): smut

MASTERLIST

“(Y/N) (L/N), everybody!!” (Y/N)’s bandmate yells into the crowd through the mic on stage. I can’t help but smile at the sight of my girlfriend walking on stage, happy as ever.

The crowd goes wild and it’s safe to say that me being proud of her is an understatement. I clap and scream along with the rest of the crowd.

This event is actually very similar to how I met her, which makes me adore her even more. She’s still herself after those two years. Of course, we’ve been through some stuff, but we’ve always got through them together.

“Who is she?” I ask Jeff while we’re getting a beer. Jeff follows my eyes, that are stuck at the stage we’ve just performed on. “That’s (Y/N) (L/N). Singer of Fallen Flame.” he answers while handing me my beer.

I absentmindedly walk a bit closer to the side of the stage, not wanting to drown in the crowd. “She’s gorgeous.” I whisper, but Jeff still seems to catch it.

“And single.” he playfully adds before giving me a nudge.

My eyes go wide for a second, but soon I smile at him. “Should I talk to her?” I ask him and he laughs, “C’mon Ed, when did you get so shy?” he says. “Alright, maybe you’ve always been shy as hell, but you can do it, man. Go get her.” Jeff says before shoving me in the direction of backstage.

I walk backstage, where I wait for what feels like hours until Fallen Flames finally comes down from the stage and backstage. I see (Y/N) walking at the back of the group, smiling and talking to her bandmates.

My eyes meet hers and for a moment I think my nerves are getting the best of me, but I contain myself from sprinting away and send her a smile. She seems to get the message and tells her bandmates to go on while she walks over to me.

“Hi,” she smiles, “you’re Eddie Vedder, from Pearl Jam, right?” she says and I can’t hide my smile.

“I am, yeah. And you are (Y/N) (L/N), Fallen Flames.” I state, trying to sound confident, but probably failing at doing so.

“God she’s amazing.” I whisper under my breath while looking at the sight of her. I still can’t believe my happiness sometimes.

Someone shoves me lightly and when I turn I see it’s only Jeff, beers in his hands, with a smile plastered on his face. “This is some kind of déjà vu.” he says before handing me oe of the beers.

We both laugh, but soon my attention is back to the stage, to (Y/N), to be exact. “I love her, man.” I tell Jeff and he simply throws his arm around my shoulder, “I know you do, Ed. And she loves you just as much, remember that.”

Jeff eventually leaves me alone, going back to meet up with the guys. I tell him I’m going to stay here and wait for (Y/N) until she’s done.

After a while she notices me and something in her performance seems to change from energetic and happy to mischievous and seductive. I feel my blood beginning to pump some more to a certain part of my body.

The movements she makes and the glances she throws at me don’t help much, they only make it worse and I feel myself getting genuinely hard.

Their shows soon ends after that and I’m quick to go backstage. Her bandmates are greet me with a smile and I tell them they were great before they leave to do god knows what.

As soon as (Y/N)’s back stage, I grab her hand and yank her with me into my dressing room, making sure it’s locked.

“You,” I start, pointing my finger at her face, which currently wears a cheeky grin, “are very, very bad.”

She laughs and throws her arms around my shoulders as my arms go around her waist, “Seducing me like that on stage, how dare you? You know how fucking hard you made me?” I ask, a playful tone in my voice and she just smiles at me.

“Couldn’t help it, babe. You look so dashing tonight. And after what you did to me while you were on stage, I thought it was time for payback.” she tells me before pecking my lips.

Confusion enters my face, “What Idid to you on stage? What the hell did I do?”

“Getting all sweaty and going wild like the way you did. Kind of a turn on, you know?” she says casually and I can’t stop myself from bursting into a fit of laughter, which she joins in quickly.

The laughter soon dies down and we stare directly into each others eyes. I crash my lips to hers, this time with hunger and fierceness. She mirrors my hunger and slides her hands underneath my shirt, tracing all the parts of my back and sides.

I slide my tongue across her lips and she gets the message, opening her mouth and granting me passage. A moan escapes her lips and I slide my tongue against the top of her mouth and all around her tongue. I smile and press myself completely against her.

“Clothes off, now.” she demands and I do immediately as I’m told, helping her out off her clothes in the process. As soon as we’re both completely naked, I move the both of us over to the couch in the room and I lay her down softly, glimbing on top of her as soon as possible.

Before I can position myself in the way I was planning, a hand grabs my manhood and pumps up and down twice. I throw my head backwards and grunt. The grunt seems to encourage her to go on, ‘cause after doing so, she goes on and on, making me go crazy with pleasure. It’s safe to say (Y/N)’s handjobs are very much enough to send me over the edge.

When I feel myself growing closer, I remove myself from her grip, leaning down to kiss her lips passionately before lowering myself until my head’s between her legs. I look up at her and smirk, before lowering my head and sliding my tongue against her folds. An encouraging sound leaves her mouth and I start sliding my tongue across her clit, playing with it for a bit, before sliding one finger into her.

She let’s out a moan, which encourages me to slide another finger in. I slowly pump my fingers in and out of her while my tongue keeps playing my her clit.

“Ed- babe-” she let’s out and I get the message. I remove my fingers from inside her and move my head up to claim her lips. She kisses me back eagerly and in the mean time I position myself between her legs.

I enter her slowly and gently and consume all her moans by kissing her. I grunt one or two times as well, feeling how tight she is around me.

As soon as we’re both adjusted to the feeling, I start moving in and out slowly. I notice we’re both not in for a rough one, so I keep my thrusts slow and steady, but pleasuring nonetheless.

“I love you, (Y/N).” I whisper, feeling my orgasm building itself up.

She smiles after letting out another moan, “As I love you, Eddie. So much.” she says before claiming my lips in a meaningful kiss.

We both reach our orgasms at the same time, softly saying each other’s names and we ride our high of slowly, before I pull out of her.

I let myself fall on the couch beside her, wrapping my arms around her as she nuzzles her head into the crook of my neck.

“I would’ve never believed you if you told me we’d end up like this two years ago when you were waiting for me backstage.” she comments, which makes me laugh.

My hand moves from her waist up to her face and I caress her check softly, “I would’ve liked to believe it, but never imagined it.” I tell her before placing a soft kiss on her head.

“I can’t even express with words how much you mean to me, Eddie, really. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

I smile and feel myself getting all emotional, “I know, I wouldn’t know what to do without you, either. But I won’t leave you, (Y/N). You’re my girl. For now and for as long as you want to be.”

[markwhyareyousodaddy]

Roommates (Part 1?)

Summary: When you’re forced to rent out your extra room, Im Jaebum was the last person you expected to have to share your living space with… luckily, he keeps things interesting.

Genre: romance, hot roommate (I think i just made up this genre???), prbly smut later tbh (sorry)

Word Count: ~1000

A/N: Hey guys/gals/all!!! Okay so this is my first ever like real original content so it may be a lil rough but let me know what you think and all that fun stuff!!! I’m thinking about continuing it and adding some… ya know… but it will all depend, so for rn it’s all pretty chill.  Also special thanks to @jaybleep​ bc Julia helped motivate me enough to do this and I 10/10 recommend following her if you don’t already!! 

UPDATE: Part 2 is now posted! 

UPDATE (AGAIN): So is Part 3! (and now Part 4!) 

“No, really, it’s fine Jen. I completely understand. I could never ask you to turn down a job offer like this,” y/n said, sighing into the phone.

“I’m so sorry,” Jen began, “I feel awful backing out on you like this, especially knowing how steep the rent is going to be without me”. She allowed her fingers to absentmindedly trace the rim of the coffee mug sitting in front of her while apologies continued flooding through the phone. After being inseparable since 6th grade, the two were both excited to finally share a small house together. It took months of searching, but eventually they stumbled upon the perfect place… well, what was the perfect place.

“It’s only for a little while, I promise. My boss says the move will be a year, max. Then I’ll come back and we can live the way we’ve been planning to!” Jen chirped, her speech optimistic and excessively bright. Y/n knew her friend’s overly happy tone was just a strategy she was implementing as an attempt to cheer both of them up, but it did bring her some comfort regardless. 

“You’re right, you’re right. I think I can manage for that long,” she teased, trying to hide the still-lingering disappointment from her voice. Jen had been working in the same accounting firm for a few years now, and had been offered a higher-paying position if she was willing to temporarily relocate to Cincinnati. The idea of being without her for such an extended period of time was difficult to think about, but y/n knew this was an opportunity of a lifetime for her best friend. 

“Thank you so much for understanding, y/n. You’re the best. I have to go, but text me if you need anything.” The friends exchanged quick goodbyes before hanging up on one another. She cleared her mug and now-empty plate from the table, dumping the remainder of the lukewarm coffee and rinsing her dishes off before placing them in the sink. Silence filled the air around her, and morning sunlight streamed in through the windows. Although the house was already beginning to feel a little more like home, y/n was quickly beginning to realize it wouldn’t be the same without her best friend there to share it. Deciding not to dwell too long on the phone call, she surveyed the floor littered with boxes before walking over and plopping down in the center of the chaos.

*** 

Four hours and twenty boxes later, a majority of the unpacking was done. Filled with a sense of accomplishment, y/n stood up and strolled to the freezer for a well-deserved serving of ice cream.  As she passed her phone sitting on the kitchen counter, she noticed a series of texts left over two hours ago from Jen.

I don’t know how, but I totally forgot to mention that I found someone to take my room in the house!! I’ve got so many things going on rn, it must have just slipped my mind. 

His name is Jaebum. I don’t know him, but he’s my older brother’s friend from college and needs a place to stay for a while I guess.  

Apparently he’s pretty cool and won’t cause too much trouble for you. He’s looking to move in tomorrow actually (sorry I literally suck, I have no idea how I forgot about this???), so just lmk if it’s alright with you and I’ll give him the okay

Y/n’s thoughts were soon clouded with worry. Before she’d even been given the chance to fully process the idea that Jen would no longer be her roommate, she was already getting a new one… and one of the opposite sex, for that matter. The idea of a guy living in such close proximity made her uneasy. After all, she had been expecting to lounge around in her extra large pajama shirt all day on Sundays, and be able to walk freely down the hallway without pants on. Surely she couldn’t do those things with a stranger present. Even worse, the possibility of him being a horrible human being loomed in her mind. Granted, Jen’s brother usually had nice enough friends, but there was no saying what this one would be like. Before y/n got too lost in her own thoughts, she punched out a simple “sure” to Jen, deciding it would be best to let him move in tomorrow instead of waiting anxiously for a few more days. Fear overwhelmed her, and she nearly threw her phone across the room after hitting send, not wanting to look at Jen’s response and face the reality of it all. 

***

After a long night, y/n was jolted awake at 7:30 by the chiming of the doorbell. Dragging her feet, she shuffled down the hall, wondering who in their right mind would want to move in this early in the day. When her hand finally brushed against the brass knob of the door, she flung it open.

“You know,” she began while yawning and clearing the sleep from her eyes, “you didn’t have to…” her voice caught mid-sentence as she suddenly forgot how to breathe. Standing in front of her was a man slightly taller than average height, combing his dark hair back with his fingers, which were adorned with a few silver rings. Although he was dressed in a simple blue t-shirt and dark jeans with a black backpack casually slung over his shoulder, he still looked like something out of a magazine. He waited to see if she would finish her statement before awkwardly clearing his throat and offering his hand.

“So… I’m Jaebum. You must be…”

He was stunning, almost too much to take in at once. His even skin was a light toffee color with a slight pink tinting the full lips that graced his face. She noticed several hoops peppering his ears while his narrow, deep brown eyes gazed intensely at her, waiting for the response she should have given thirty seconds ago instead of observing him like he was a piece of classical artwork.  

“Y/n,” she replied, practically choking on her words.

“Y/n…” he repeated tentatively, lowering his outstretched hand and giving her a concerned look. “Well, uh, nice to meet you I suppose. Is it alright if I start to move my things in, or are we going to stand in the doorway all day?” he chuckled. After a few more silent moments, she wordlessly stepped back and raised her arm, motioning him inside.