#how do you take care of leather car seats?
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・ďžďžď˝Ľď˝Ąď˝Ľďžďžď˝Ą ďž. đđ¨đŽđđĄđ˘đ§đ đ˛đ¨đŽ đ°đĄđđ§ đ˛đ¨đŽ'đŤđ đŚđđ ďžď˝Ľď˝Ąď˝Ľďžft. gojo, choso, sukuna, toji
⥠warnings. no reader pronouns, fem anatomy! reader, technically hate fucking, reader is initially very pissed, he is too but he wants to make up, no curse au (choso + sukuna), everything is consensual. gojo cw: some reckless driving, semi-public sex, doggy, getting caught, exhibitionism. choso cw: reader is in a bunny lingerie costume, slight! pet play, suddenly popping a boner, v! fingering. sukuna cw: petty arguments, jealousy, v! fingering. toji cw: jealousy, implied size difference, kabedon!!!, cunnilingus, wall sex. 18+ only, MDNI
⥠a/n. idk if you can already tell by now - I usually make these whenever I have new banners / formats to try out. I really love that heart bubble thingy on the title lol + idk, arguments like these feel a little endearing sometimes. this was very fun to write. enjoy!
⥠links. GEN. MASTERLIST â JJK MASTERLIST
[ â¤ď¸ ] GOJO SATORU
The car ride home tonight is silent for the most part. Itâs your car, your hands on the steering wheel, and therefore your rules. Maybe you havenât been looking at your speedometer but in case you havenât noticed, your anger adds more pressure to your foot on the pedal, and youâre a few kilometers past the highway speed limit.
All this because of some petty argument and you barely even remember what itâs about. All you know is, itâs one that made you miss an exit, and itâs another 20 minutes before the next one.
âBaby, slow down.â He sighs with a tinge of worry and slight irritation in his voice. Heâs not really keen on the idea of having to watch you flirt with an officer to get out of a speeding ticket. Heâll throw puppy dog eyes to the officer himself if he has to, but heâs putting a pin on that thought for now. There must be something that could remedy the situation (you) for now.
âDonât talk to me,â you deadpan, lips pursing in your annoyance, eyes dead fixed on the road.
âFine. Then, I wonât,â he hums, an idea suddenly popping up in his head. âI wonât talk to you. Iâll justâŚâ He fiddles with the hems of your skirt, knuckles lightly stroking your plump and exposed skin.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â You shift in your seat, quickly taking a glance at your boyfriend.
âNot talking.â It starts with just his fingers, now itâs a full hand, and itâs squeezing and massaging your thigh, reaching higher and higher up till itâs a hair away from your clothed sex.
âThatâs a dangerous game youâre playing, Satoru.â You gulp, and he doesnât fail to notice your breath has shifted, taking deeper inhales and longer exhales the closer he gets to your panties.
And he knows itâs a dangerous game. But hey, at least youâre not in danger of getting a ticket anymore. Heâs glad youâre distracted. One finger hooking on the waistband of your panties is enough to make your breath hitch. Watching you chew on your bottom lip puts a strain in his pants knowing youâre trying your hardest not to be the first to break. Youâre so cute when youâre angry, focus never breaking when you reach the woodsy outskirts of your exit, and he wonders if you took the wrong turn.
âWhy are we hereââ
âYou fucking idiot.â Youâre fuming as you unbuckle your belt, making your way to the backseat.
âI fucking love you.â
âŚ.
Heâs never seen you cum so fast before, never seen you more vocal, fingers raking into the leather of your back seat, not a care in the world how expensive itâs going to be to have it replaced. He should piss you off more if it means heâll have you on all fours again in your car in the middle of the woods, begging and screaming for him to fuck you deeper and deeper a nearby town could mistake your cries for a mating call.
He finds a neat little discovery too when a light shines on your window, practically blinding you, and your insides coil around his cock heâs almost sure he was locked in knots. Youâre so fucking hot when youâre embarrassed, unable to help the moans that escape your lips even when a cop knocks on your window.
[ â¤ď¸ ] KAMO CHOSO
âI already told you Iâm sorry!â
You wonât budge, half-sulking-half pissed with your back turned to him on the bed, sitting on your folded legs. You refuse to talk to him too so he settles with hugging you from behind, bunny tail pressing against his crotch. You feel his fingers fidgeting against your stomach, clearly remorseful for what he did. Your boyfriend is the last person on earth who could forget about special dates, let alone an anniversary â or so you thought.
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry, please forgive me.â And you want to forgive him. But you had already spent the last few weeks finding the best anniversary costume present, only to be met with questioning heart eyes at the bunny ears and frilly lingerie, wondering whatâs the occasion.
âItâs fine, forget it. Just leave me alone.â You try to wriggle out of his hold, only grinding against him kn the process.
âWonât let go till I know youâll allow me to make up for it.â
âStop, itâs done okay â wait, are youâŚâ At first, you thought it was your puffy tail pressing on your ass but you realize thatâs definitely not the case when the thing behind you tripled in size.
âYeah.â He buries his face deeper in your hair, taking in the sweet smell of you despite your little tantrum. His thumb tries to graze your underboob, fiddling with the frilly wires, popping in and out of the garment, obviously trying to restrain himself. âSorry, youâre just⌠so soft.â
âBunny, I know youâre mad and you can tell me all about it.â His hand reaches for your clothed pussy, fingernails scratching your slit behind the fabric. He finally puts the garment aside, spreading your wet, puffy folds with his pointer and ring fingers before sliding his middle into your slippery hole. âGo on, Iâm listening.â
[ â¤ď¸ ] RYOUMEN SUKUNA
âDonât ignore me, you.â
âHeâs my childhood friend! Just a friend, okay?! Why canât you understand that?â
âHe could be the dog of your sister-in-lawâs neighbor, I donât give a fuck. I donât want you fucking talking to that guy anymore.â
âIt doesnât mean anything!â
âSo? I donât like how he looks at you â hey, donât leave! Donât get mad â câmon!â He catches up with you when your pace quickens as you bolt through the door. Tattooed arms coming from behind you lock tightly around your waist, his face burrowing into your neck.
âLet me go!â
âFuck no.â Heâs still as a rock the first few seconds as you try to wriggle out of his hold. When you realize itâs futile, he begins to pepper kisses on your exposed shoulder, trailing kisses along your neck up to your temple, as if heâa getting off that easy.
âRyo, stop!â
âUh-uh.â He runs his nose across your ear before leaving breathy kisses on your lobe. Heâs a fucking menace for knowing exactly what makes you weak in the knees and using that against you.
âIf you think thatâs going to work, I-I â ohh, fuck.â Your head cranes backwards, leaning on his hard chest when his hand slides down your pants. Heat rises to your cheeks in embarrassment when you realize he found you wet despite all this. Or maybe itâs because of this?
âI donât know? Seems to be working.â Because it fucking is. And you hate that it is. But his hand â black fingernails grazing your clit sloppy, wetting it with your juices â it feels so hot against your pussy at this stupid moment. His free hand reaches for your tit underneath your shirt around the same time as when he started pumping digits into your hole.
Youâre not getting out of this alive.
âYou still gonna talk to him?â
âWho?â
[ â¤ď¸ ] FUSHIGURO TOJI
âI fuckinâ swear, I donât know how that girl got my number.â
âDonât care. Go away, Toji.â Standing and towering in front of you, he tries to block you in every which direction. He doesnât budge. Sneaking past him isnât an option either as those freakishly long arms could easily prevent you from going anywhere.
You didnât mean to read his messages. But when an unknown number pops out of your boyfriendâs notifications with kissy emojis followed by a steamy shot of her backside, you canât help but be⌠curious.
Youâre not sure what to think. On the one hand, you know Toji would never cheat on you or lie to you about these things. On the other hand, you also just found out this isnât the first time this girl has sent him anything â nor the first time anyoneâs sent him anything in the whole duration of your relationship.
âBelieve me. I ignore every single one of these text messages, I donât know how they keep finding me!â
âYeah, well you couldâve told me.â Toji sighs realizing only now that he shouldâve. He didnât think it mattered or that you would be this bothered when you found out. Clearly, he was wrong.
You take his pause as your cue to walk past him, but a big hand slams to the wall next to you, preventing you from walking any further. His hand slides higher as he leans closer to the wall, forcing you to back up and hide in his shadow.
His lips are a breath away, eyes staring at yours through his lashes. His free hand cups your chin, gently forcing you to listen to him carefully. âI never told you because I didnât care about any of them.â
His hand reaches for the skirt of your dress, balling the fabric into his fist as he raises the fabric till your thighs are exposed. âWhy would I care about any of them when I have you,â he slides his hand into your panties, stroking stripes along your wet slit, âand this pussy.â
You all but melt into his touch, pussy squirming underneath his hold. Toji slowly kneels to the floor, taking your panties with him before throwing them aside. He pushes your knees aside, staring right at you as his hot breath fans your exposed cunt. âThis pussy. Always so fucking ready for me.â
His wet muscle parts your folds, licking heavenly stripes on your throbbing clit. You lean on the wall for dear life, one hand above your head, the other on your partnerâs head, shoving him closer to your pussy as you ride his mouth.
âIâm changing my number, I promise.â
⥠reblogs & comments are appreciated âĄ
#jjk x reader#choso x reader#sukuna x reader#gojo x reader#toji x reader#jjk smut#choso smut#gojo smut#toji smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk headcanons#jjk x you#!love letters#!jjk#!choso#!sukuna#!gojo#!toji#gojo satoru#choso#sukuna#toji fushiguro#tw pet play#tw hate fucking#tw jealousy
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MILF
Tags: Toji x Reader, nsfw, mdni, breeding kink, unprotected sex, car sex, daddy kink
Synopsis: Toji loves fucking milfs. Send tweet.
An: I love how we all collectively as a fandom decided Toji is the nastiest mf out there. I just really feel like he is down w everything.
Toji thinks itâs adorable when youâre apologizing profusely for canceling plans on him again. Kidâs gotta come first, right? He knows that being a single mom is hard, and that you wouldnât be cancelling plans so often if you didnât have a kid.
He doesnât mind sitting with your kid while you take a while to get ready. He sits next to your son on the couch and plays xbox with him, telling you to take your time. He knows you donât get to get out too often. Hell, your kid probably doesnât know what a babysitter is because you never know how to take a break.
Toji finds you stunning as soon as you walk out of the bedroom in that sexy black dress. He doesnât even mind that your snot nose brat just killed him in whatever game they were playing. âHaha! I beat you!â Your son gloats. While you talk to the babysitter about what your kid can and canât have, he leans over towards your sonâs ear. âYeah, well, Iâm gonna go fuck your mom, so whoâs really winning?â
He has to practically drag you out of the house, placing his hand on the small of your back as a firm guide towards his car. He knows how badly you need âadult timeâ. Youâve complained plenty about only hanging out with your kid and having no social life.
His excitement grows as he watches you get tipsy off one glass of wine. You really donât get out much, do you? He carefully walks you back to his car after dinner, and youâre just gushing over your little brat back at home. Heâs had to stop you from calling the babysitter like 5 times to check up on him.
âToo busy takinâ care of everyone else, ma. Let me take care of you.â He mutters in your ear as he parks his car in the middle of nowhere.
Toji fucking loves the curves that come from childbearing, and donât even get him started on the stretch marks. Heâs a fiend when it comes to your full breasts that arenât as perky as they were before your son.
He adores how moms arenât afraid to get it on anywhere. They know the value of time, and they never know when another opportunity will arise. They take it when they can get it, and right now, youâre taking it in the back of Tojiâs car.
âMmmn~ shit. You swear youâre not a virgin?â He moans as your gummy walls squeeze tightly around his length. Youâd giggle at his comment if you werenât so full of his cock. You can only manage to let out a pathetic quiet whine.
âNuh uh, louder baby.â He instructs as he works on stretching your cunt out. âTonightâs all about you. Let me hear you.â A more confident moan falls from your lips from his words, and he grins behind you, loving the way you sound while you struggle to take him all in.
Toji has you face down ass up in his back seat. Your ass ripples with each time he plunges his thick cock in and out of you. The car fills with the nastiest noises straight from your sopping wet cunt. He swears to god moms always get the wettest. Their bodies are experienced, knowing more lubricant helps ease his cock in and out.
âFuuuck, ma. You feel so fuckinâ good.â He groans behind you as his hips continue to slap against your asscheeks. âMakinâ me want to breed this pussy for myself.â
âNgh~ T-Toji!â You cry out as your face is pressed to the leather of the seat. Your mouth is slightly agape, drooling everywhere from being so cock drunk.
âHm? What you think about that, ma? I could give you another little brat to raise.â The car creaks and rocks back and forth with each harsh thrust. His eyes are fixed on your juices that are pooling around the base of his cock.
âI- ⌠oh god, fuck~â You donât even have it in you deny him. His cock feels so fucking good; you donât want to say anything to make him stop. You need this.
Slap!
His hand connects with the fat of your ass as he swats at you. âNot an answer, ma.â He grunts as he leans his weight onto you, using it to his advantage against your poor sticky cunt. His large hand presses between your shoulder blades, holding you down to the seat.
âB-breed me!â Your voice cries out in a tone youâve never heard before.
âThaaatâs it.â He drawls with a smirk as his hips start to pound harder. âGood girl. Usinâ your words like that fâme. Daddyâll give you what you want.â
Toji leans his head back, basking in the way your pussy is practically crying for him. Oh, the things flooding in his mind right now are downright fucking filthy. Thinking about how pretty youâd look pregnant with his kid. Thinking about giving your son a little sibling.
âOhh~ my g-god⌠pleaasee.. Iâm gonna come..â Your poor voice sounds so fucked out, your hips start to move, bouncing back against him while chasing your orgasm.
âFuck yeah, ma⌠Thatâs it. Fuck me back.â He praises as his hand starts to massage your pillowy ass. His lewdly balls are clapping against your clit, stimulating you as well as making the most erotic noises. âCum on daddyâs fat cock. Câmon. I know you can do it.â
Within seconds, your pussy is clenching around him, milking him for all heâs worth while your orgasm washes over you. âShiiiit~ ma.â He hisses as he has to force himself to keep thrusting. His cock is throbbing from how sensitive he is right now, on the brink of his orgasm.
âFuck. Toji, Toji, Toji..â You feel tears spring into your eyes as he continues to fuck you into oblivion. Overstimulated tears stroll down your cheeks as your body is so sensitive.
âKeep sayinâ my name, ma. Keep sayinâ daddyâs name.â He groans as he leans more into you, almost mounting you at this point. âNgh~ gonna put a baby in you, okay ma?â
âPleaseââ You hiccup as your body is continually getting wrecked.
A growl rips through his throat as he yanks your hips back into him, shoving himself as deep as your body will allow, and his cock pulses as he spills deep inside you.
Toji loves takinâ pretty mamas like you home after heâs finished ruining them. The way they half waddle and stumble back onto the house with his cum still nestled in their cute cunts. He imagines they try to sober up enough to kiss their kids goodnight before they get the best sleep of their life.
It ainât much, but itâs honest work for Toji. đŤĄ
tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog @theuniversesnepobaby
#jjk#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen#fanfic#drabble#jjk suggestive#jjk toji#toji x you#toji smut#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji zenin#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#jjk smut#smut#smut fic
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Shifting gears - LN4
*:ď˝Ľďž Summary: Lando and you, childhood best friends, discover a deeper connection during a drive in his new Porsche. After discussing his playboy image, the conversation takes an unexpected turn, leading to a realization of long-hidden feelings and shifting your relationship from friendship to something more romantic and intimate.
*:ď˝Ľďž Word count: 2250
masterlist / community / request
๨ŕ§
The afternoon sun filtered through the tall trees that lined the road, casting dappled shadows over the sleek Porsche as it cruised effortlessly along the winding asphalt. The roar of the engine was almost hypnotic, a perfect blend of power and control, much like its owner. Lando Norris gripped the steering wheel with ease, his fingers drumming absentmindedly as he glanced over at his passengerâhis best friend, someone who had been by his side since they were kids.
While Lando had built a reputation for himself as a playboyâcharming, confident, and always with a new girl on his armâyou were the complete opposite. Introverted, quiet, and shy. But thatâs what made your friendship so special. You balanced each other out.
Today, though, something felt a little different. Maybe it was the car, the air of freedom and luxury it represented, or maybe it was the conversation you were having that shifted the mood. Either way, the usual playful banter between the two of you had taken a slightly more serious turn.
âSo, whoâs the flavor of the week this time?â you teased, your voice light but carrying a hint of genuine curiosity as you shifted in the leather seat.
Lando chuckled, a low, throaty sound that seemed to vibrate through the car. âNot sure yet. You know how it is,â he replied with a smirk, his eyes never leaving the road.
You rolled your eyes, but there was no judgment in your expression. âYeah, I know exactly how it is. You with some random girl, one night, maybe two if sheâs lucky, and then youâre off to the next. Itâs like youâre collecting trophies or something.â
He shrugged. âItâs not that bad. Iâm just⌠having fun. Lifeâs short, you know?â
You snorted softly. âFor you, maybe. I canât even imagine doing that. Just⌠being with someone like that, without any meaning. Doesnât it get old?â
Lando raised an eyebrow, finally glancing over at you. âWhy, you thinking about trying it out?â he teased, though his tone carried a hint of something deeper, something that wasnât quite a joke.
Your face flushed, and you quickly turned to look out the window, trying to hide the sudden rush of heat that crept up your neck. âNo,â you muttered, âIâm not like that.â
Silence filled the car for a moment, the hum of the engine the only sound between you. Landoâs eyes flickered back to the road, but his expression was thoughtful now, less playful than usual. âYou donât always have to be so⌠sweet, you know,â he said after a beat, his voice quieter, almost serious. âItâs okay to let loose sometimes. It doesnât make you any less⌠you.â
You blinked, surprised by his words. He wasnât wrong; you were the âsweetâ one, the one who always cared too much, worried too much. But hearing Lando say it so bluntly made you feel strangely vulnerable, like he could see right through your carefully crafted exterior.
âYeah, well, Iâm not the one whoâs constantly in the tabloids for having one-night stands with half the population,â you shot back, the words harsher than you intended.
Lando laughed, though there was a sharpness to it. âTouchĂŠ. But you know, itâs not as glamorous as people make it out to be.â
You frowned, turning back to him. âWhat do you mean? You always seem like youâre having the time of your life.â
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. âYeah, itâs fun, I guess. But itâs not⌠real, you know? Itâs just⌠I donât know. Itâs easy. Iâm used to it.â
For a moment, you didnât know what to say. You had never heard him talk like this before, so openly about the lifestyle he had embraced. It wasnât like him to get deep, not about this.
âThen why do you keep doing it?â you asked quietly.
Lando glanced at you, and for the first time, you saw something different in his eyes. Something almost⌠uncertain.
âBecause itâs easier than thinking about what I really want,â he said softly.
The words hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded with meaning. You swallowed, unsure of how to respond, your heart suddenly racing for reasons you couldnât quite explain.
âWhat do you mean?â you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Lando didnât answer right away. Instead, he pulled the car off the main road, slowing down as he drove into a secluded spot overlooking a lake. The car came to a stop, and the silence that followed was deafening. He turned off the engine, and the two of you sat there, the tension in the air thick and palpable.
âI meanâŚâ Lando began, his voice low, almost hesitant, âIâve been with a lot of girls, sure. But none of them were ever you.â
Your breath hitched in your throat. âWhat?â
He turned in his seat to face you fully, his expression serious now, his usual cocky smirk replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. âYou. Youâre different. You always have been.â
Your mind was racing, trying to process his words, but all you could focus on was the way he was looking at youâlike you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
âBut weâre⌠friends,â you stammered, your voice shaky.
âI know,â Lando said, his gaze never leaving yours. âAnd thatâs why Iâve never said anything before. But⌠I donât know. Lately, it feels like things have changed. Like maybe weâve changed.â
You didnât know what to say. You had always been close to Lando, but you had never let yourself think about him like that. He was Landoâthe charismatic, carefree playboy who was always with someone else. But now, sitting here in the quiet of his car, it was hard to ignore the way your heart was pounding in your chest, the way his words made your stomach flip.
âIâŚâ you started, but you didnât know how to finish the sentence.
Lando leaned closer, his hand coming to rest on the edge of your seat, his eyes searching yours for some kind of answer, some kind of sign. âTell me to stop,â he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. âAnd I will.â
But you didnât tell him to stop. You couldnât.
Instead, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss. It was slow at first, hesitant, like neither of you were quite sure if this was really happening. But then something shifted. The kiss deepened, and suddenly it was like everything that had been simmering under the surface for years had finally come to a head.
Landoâs hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with more urgency. You could feel the heat of his body, the way his heart was racing just as fast as yours. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and before you knew it, you were climbing over the center console, straddling him as the kiss grew more heated, more desperate.
You had never done anything like this beforeânever been this close to someone, never let yourself be this vulnerable. But with Lando, it felt⌠right. Like this was exactly where you were meant to be.
His hands roamed over your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You gasped as he kissed a trail down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. âLando,â you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and intense as he looked up at you. âAre you sure?â he asked, his voice rough, barely controlled.
You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. âYes.â
The next few moments were a blur of tangled limbs and heated kisses, the world outside the car fading into nothing as you lost yourself in him, in the way he made you feel. It wasnât rushed or careless like you had imagined his one-night stands might be. It was slow, deliberate, and full of a kind of intensity you had never experienced before.
And then, just as quickly as it had started, it was over. You found yourself lying in his arms, the cool leather of the seat beneath you, your breathing still ragged as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.
Landoâs hand stroked your hair gently, his touch comforting, grounding. âYou okay?â he asked softly, his voice full of concern.
You nodded, snuggling closer to him. âYeah,â you whispered. âIâm okay.â
For a long time, neither of you spoke. The sun had begun to set, casting a golden glow over the lake, and the quiet between you was no longer filled with tension, but with a kind of contentment you hadnât expected.
Finally, Lando broke the silence. âYou know⌠I didnât plan for this to happen,â he said, his voice low. âBut Iâm glad it did.â
You smiled softly, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. âMe too.â
He shifted beneath you, turning slightly so he could look down at you. âSo⌠what does this mean for us?â
You thought about it for a moment, your mind still spinning from everything that had just happened. But when you looked up into his eyes, you knew the answer.
âIt means⌠maybe weâve changed,â you said quietly, echoing his words from earlier.
Lando smiled, a real, genuine smile that made your heart
skip a beat. He cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that made your stomach flutter.
âI guess we have,â he murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. It was such a simple gesture, but it held a weight of everything unspoken between you. Years of friendship, of shared memories, of teasing and laughterâall of it led to this moment. The line youâd been dancing on for so long had finally blurred, and neither of you could deny it anymore.
For a while, you just lay there, wrapped in each otherâs arms, basking in the comfortable silence that followed. The world outside the car seemed distant, irrelevant. It was just you and Lando now, and that felt right.
Eventually, though, the practicalities of life started to creep back in, and you couldnât ignore them forever. You shifted slightly, sitting up in the seat, the reality of what had just happened slowly settling in.
âSo⌠what now?â you asked, your voice quiet, as if speaking too loudly would break the fragile newness of what had just formed between you.
Lando sat up too, his hand still resting on your thigh, a small, reassuring gesture. He looked at you thoughtfully, as if considering his words carefully. âI donât want this to be some random, one-time thing,â he said slowly, his voice steady. âYouâre not like those girls. Youâve never been. I donât want to screw this up.â
You smiled softly, feeling your heart swell at his words. âI donât want that either,â you admitted. âIâve never thought of us like this before⌠but now, I canât imagine it any other way.â
His eyes softened as he leaned in to kiss you again, this time slower, more tender, as if sealing the promise between you. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your lips.
âIâve liked you for a long time,â Lando confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. âI just didnât know how to say it.â
Your heart skipped again, but this time it wasnât from nervesâit was from the overwhelming realization that you felt the same way. Maybe youâd always felt it, buried somewhere deep down.
âI think Iâve always liked you too,â you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly at the confession.
Landoâs smile widened, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of relief and joy. âGood. Because Iâm not letting you get away now.â
You laughed, the sound light and easy, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt simple. No more games, no more hiding behind jokes or casual flings. Just you and Lando, finally facing what had been there all along.
The sun was almost set now, casting a soft orange glow over the lake as the two of you sat there, side by side, in the quiet of the Porsche. The future felt uncertain in the best way possible, full of possibilities and new beginnings.
Lando gave your hand a squeeze, pulling you out of your thoughts. âYou know,â he said, a teasing glint in his eye, âI think this Porsche might be my new lucky charm.â
You rolled your eyes, but you couldnât help the smile that tugged at your lips. âOf course you would say that.â
He grinned, that familiar cocky smile back in full force, but this time it was softened by something elseâsomething deeper, more real. âCome on, letâs get out of here. Iâll take you home. But tomorrow⌠maybe we can go for another drive?â
You nodded, your heart light as you leaned over to kiss him one more time. âYeah, Iâd like that.â
As Lando started the car and pulled back onto the road, you couldnât help but glance over at him, your best friendâyour something more nowâand feel grateful for every twist and turn that had led you here.
And as the Porsche sped down the road, the two of you heading into an uncertain future, you couldnât shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.
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*:ď˝Ľďž Notes; thank you for reading, loveâs! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!
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â "THE PRINCESS TREATMENT." various
SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend and the different ways he pampers and spoils you rotten âĄ
âš [ cw ] â mentions of winter storms, prefect is implied to have bad living conditions, mild violence in the tweels parts, jade breaks someone's wrist, crowley slander, ace slanderâ
âš [ tags ] â FLUFFY! feminine reader! no gendered pronouns used, riddle uses his dorm position to spoil you, seeing trey driving is very hot, deuce biceps, leona and azul sugar daddy era, ruggie would rather freeze to death than have you be cold, jack carries you, jade and floyd will fight for you, rook makes you his muse and paints you, malleus renovates the entire diasomnia dorm for you, sebek carries your pink handbagsâ
âš [ characters ] â riddle, trey, deuce, leona, ruggie, jack, azul, jade, floyd, rook, malleus, sebekâ
âš [ w.c ] â 4.9k+â | đŚmasterlistâ
ââ° RIDDLE
Princess treatment, Likeâliterally
Loathe is Riddle to admitâHe can't deny the fact that being his lover meant you got special treatment. Prime example being your position at unbirthday parties. At the banquet table, just beside Riddle's designated throne, was your throne. Similar in style, it had a heart-shaped crest and golden frame; the only difference was that it was milky white rather than deep red. And despite his best efforts to downplay the favoritism shown to you, Riddle knows for a fact that he had the throne commissioned himself.
ę°â§âËâď¸âŕźâ§âË.
"Come with me." The dorm leader says as he moves towards you, leading you towards your throne. He didn't fail to notice how your legs shook slightly as you walked alongside him or how your hands didnât leave his coat once. Not that he minded.
The redhead clasped your hands in his as he sat you down onto the leather seat before adjusting the train of your dress to ensure that it wouldn't bother you.
"How are you fairing?" Riddle asked softly, kneeling before you to slip a leather-clad hand behind your knees. He set your feet up on a plush stool and slipped your pointed heels off, gently caressing your ankles. "I overheard you earlier, griping about your feet aching. I certainly hope you're not pushing yourself too hard."
"Ah, no. I just chose the wrong heels today. They're too pointy." You sighed, poking at your crimson red heels, which were discarded to the grassy sides. Groaning, you reclined back on your throne, the billowing, fluffy skirt of the dress Riddle had recently gifted tumbling all about you.
"I see." Riddle nodded in understanding, taking your hand and pressing a quick gentlemanly kiss on your wrists. "The croquet game is up next. I suppose you'd rather stay here?"
"Yeah, I think I need some alone time," you sigh. Riddle squeezes once more your hand in reply, letting his eyes shut in contemplation.
"Very well," He hums, moving to gently tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. "Do rest here a while, rose."
There was a soft smile as the leather of his hands glide across your back. "Oh, and, please let a member of my dorm know if you ever need anything. Worry not. I've instructed everyone here to be at your beck and call."
âââââââââââââââââââââ ¡ ¡
â â° TREY
Passenger princess treatment<3
Every weekend, it was routine for Trey to whisk you away from your beaten-up dorm. After all, he was sure it was nice to spend the day in a place where you weren't inhaling dust and spiders every second. Both of you would always go over to his parent's cafĂŠ in the city for a simple little brunch date. And without fail, Trey would always pick you up at 9am sharp by the school gates.
ę°â§âËâď¸âŕźâ§âË.
"⌠I was made for lovin' you, baby
You were made for lovin' me
And I can't get enough of you, baby
Can you get enough of me?"
Soft music played from the car's radio as the third-year weaved through the barren intersections, careful and slow. It seems as if the roads were merciful to you both today, calm and free of any traffic.
Trey languidly reaches one of his hands, calloused from his years of baking, over to rest gently on your thigh. His thumb rubs soft circles and nonsensical patterns over your plump skin while the other gripped the steering wheel in a loose hold, biceps flexing as he twisted the wheel to turn the car.
Focused as he was, you didn't miss how his gaze flits back and forth between the road and you, the expression swimming within them almost akin to a distant longing.
You place your hand atop his and lean against the passenger door. A wide grin spreads over your glossy red lips as you shake your head playfully. "Keep your eyes on the road."
Mirthful laughter spills from your mouth before your eyes flutter shut as you sway along to the song, mindlessly kicking your legs around. "Crashing and going to the hospital doesn't really sound like a good date idea."
A pensive smile creeps up on Trey's face, and he lets out a low chuckle. "Yeah? I just can't help it. You're a much more interesting sight."
He watched as the sun's dazzling light bathed your image in a beautiful, pleasant glow. To him, you looked ethereal, seemingly glowing and shining under the golden streaks of sunlight that pour through the windshield.
"What did I just say?" you sighed, smiling cheekily as you smoothed a hand over his clover-colored hair, fixing the stray strands moved askew by the wind from the open windows. "Hello~? Wonderland to Trey? Eyes on the road?"
He paused for a while before chuckling, his hands splaying out on the steering wheel as he turned his gaze back front. "Right, right. I'll be careful, princess."
âââââââââââââââââââââ ¡ ¡
â â°Â DEUCE
Carries your things for you and will not let you do any heavy lifting at all plus he buys you drinks!
Screw Crowley Dire. You were sick of Ramshackle's awful, scratchy furniture. For once, you wished you could sit on something that wasn't littered with dust bunnies or looked like it came straight from the depths of the underworldâno offense to Idia. And so, using the money you had painstakingly saved over the last six months, you decided to buy a cute, frilly sofa.
Problem wasâyou couldn't lift it at all. It was too wide and heavy for your poor untrained arms. Fortunately for you, your boyfriend was more than happy to help ^^
ę°â§âËâď¸âŕźâ§âË.
"UmâŚDeuce? Are you sure you don't want me to work?" Perched atop the kitchen counters, you were worriedly staring down at him.
While he was preoccupied with lifting the couch, you were lazily sipping on a bubble teaâa drink which he bought for you himself. Humming, you let your gaze move from the soft line of his cheekbone, to the sharper cut of his jaw, before resting it onto the thick of his arms. " I don't mind helping, you know."
Deuce was standing by the door, arms tucked beneath the couch as he braced himself for lifting. "Yeah, I got this. Don't worry."
Now, why was he here, exactly? WellâŚFirst off, you didn't intend to call him at all.
In the middle of trying to haul your couch into Ramshackle's entrance, Deuce had appeared out of nowhere, offering his help. Despite your vehement denial, the stubborn boy wouldn't take no for an answer, and eventually forced you to sit down, shoving the bright, bubbly drink in your hand without saying a word.
So, here you were. Shamelessly ogling at him while he tried to find a way to bring the couch in.
"Are you sure? I don't want you to get hurtâOh!" You gasped, hand flying up to cover your agape mouth when Deuce easily lifted it up as if it were made of air. In response to your expression of astonishment, he grinned and playfully flexed his arms. "See?"
While Deuce set the couch down in front of the TV, you slipped off the counters and strode over to him. Jumping into his embrace, you draped your arms around his shoulder and pressed a big kiss on his cheeks, watching in delight as his face exploded in pink. "You're so strong! Thank you so much!"
Deuce let a wobbly smile stretch across his burning cheeks, his hands slack atop your hips. "Y-Yeah! No problem."
âââââââââââââââââââââ ¡ ¡
â â° LEONA
Sugar dad-I mean-financial help<3 + Hints at passenger princess treatment
Leona Kingscholar was not a romantic. Naturally, he has stayed to himself ever since he was little. This lion was not the kind to be sentimental, gooey, or emotional. So it is astonishing how quickly this stone-cold personality of his breaks down when he's around you.
Every little thing you do drives him into a lovesick frenzy, and he has no idea how to stop it. He wasn't particularly into grand displays of affection or romantic gestures. Ergo, in an effort to express his adoration, he turns to moreâŚcostly methods.
ę°â§âËâď¸âŕźâ§âË.
"Tell me what you want." Leona demands, tone serious as he wraps a rough yet protective arm around your hips. Both of you were standing smack dab in the middle of a large shopping mall. Though the more you stood here, the more you began to realize that this place wasn't really yourâŚordinary mall.
First and foremost, when Leona pulled up, there was private parking, and that was already intimidating to you in and of itself. Second, it seems like every single store in here was a luxury brand. You've seen a couple of these logos plastered onto the tags of Vil's or Jade and Floyd's clothes.
As a matter of fact, you were pretty sure their plastic bags cost more than your entire yearly allowance combined.
"Ah, umâŚ" A nervous sweat built up on your brow as you fished your wallet out, peering into what little funds you had. "Leona, honeyâI just needed to get some school suppliesâŚIs there a different mall we can go to?" You sheepishly smiled up at him. "I don't think I can afford to get anything here."
Silence immediately follows as Leona stares at you with a dumbfounded look. Blinking bluntly, he scoffs. "Who said you were paying?"
"Hu-Huh?" You stammered, fiddling with your wallet. The lion's eyes were ripped wide open in shock, as if the mere thought of you spending your own money on your own things was a criminal act. Something so ludicrous that even a person with his deceptive persona finds it distasteful.
"Ain't it obvious already? I'm paying," Leona huffs, dragging you to a nearby jewelry shop. Behind the glass were displays of glittering pearls and jewels, each of which had delicate and intricate carvings. "And we're gettin' more than stationary."
"But-!" You start, only to get interrupted as his calloused hand clamps over your mouth.
"No buts."
âââââââââââââââââââââ ¡ ¡
â â°Â RUGGIE
Giving you his coat when you're cold and just being sickeningly sweet<3
Ruggie was used to working for others, and this habit of his pours over to you. Though it wouldn't take long for people to notice that his acts of labor wasâŚdifferent with you.
For others, Ruggie works because there's an exchange, a benefit, or a payment for him. For you, however, he does things with no motive in mind. He would never ask for more because he genuinely didn't need anything more, and if he ever did, a simple kiss or hug from you would be plenty.
ę°â§âËâď¸âŕźâ§âË.
It was a frigid winter day and both of you were walking to school together, a routine you both developed over the past few months. As you followed him through the deep snowfall, the cold wind nipped and bit at your skin, making you shudder. Despite the struggle, you push on, the rough pads of your boots dragging along the thick blankets of snow.
Unfortunately for you, the flimsy cardigan you bought at Sam's did nothing to keep your body safe from the cruel winter.
While Ruggie's oversized warm coat helps kept him sufficiently warmed up, you, on the other hand, are struggling. You know you should have gotten a thicker coat, but this was all you could afford last minute.
Ever so caring, your boyfriend is quick to notice this and turns back around, trudging through the snow to meet you.
"C'mere," Ruggie drags you into his embrace and starts to slowly inch the coat off his shoulders. With your form now pushed against his body, he takes the chance to press a soft kiss against your cheeks. At the exchange of affection, both of you erupt in soft giggles, lovesick grins stretched across your lips.
The moment feels intimate, loving, and safe.
"Here ya' go." Suddenly he's engulfing you in his thick cloak and zipping it up. Protesting, you try to give it back, but all he does is snicker and shake his head. He peppers warm kisses on the side of your bare frostbitten neck, relishing in the giggles that spill from your lips. "Keep it. I can handle the cold. I'm used to it but I can't have you freezin' out here, now can I?"
âââââââââââââââââââââ ¡ ¡
â â°Â JACK
Carries you when your feet start to hurt, tee hee
Jack was strong and well-disciplined. He's worked hard and trained himself to peak physical condition, yet even then, he's continually seeking to improve himself even more. He's tried it all: fitness routines, weight lifting, and sports. And it pays off.
His strength has proven useful in a variety of circumstances. from physical education classes, sporting events, marathons, and, strangely enough, carrying you when your heels begin to hurt your feet.
ę°â§âËâď¸âŕźâ§âË.
Jack looks around the booths as he takes your hands in his, pulling you along the festival crowds, "Hm. I think the takoyaki stand is around here. You were craving that earlier, right?" If it weren't for the intense dull ache at the bottom of your ankles, you would have been delighted to hear about the delectable octopus snack.
Instead, you hissed and pulled on the beastman's hand, halting to a stop, unable to take the torture of your heels any longer. "Jack, hold on a second."
Groaning, you slouch down on a nearby bench and kick off your heels, scowling at the dull throb that's pressing itself against the back of your foot. Jack quickly knelt down by your side, ears alert and tail swishing.
"What's wrong?" He questions as he drags your legs over to rest on top of his firm thighs. "Do your feet hurt?"
"Yeah," you sigh. "I kinda regret putting on heels at a festival like thisâŚI didn't realize it would hurt so bad. I just wanted to look cute."
The wolf ponders for a moment before swiftly turning around, presenting his back to you, "Get on."
"Eh?" You blinked, tilting your head to the side. Jack looks away, keeping his head tilted to the ground as a dark flush swept over his skin. "I'll carry youâŚI-If your feet hurt, I won't mind carrying you."
"Oh!" Smiling, you slip onto his back and wrap your arms snug around his neck. Jack clutches your heels in one hand while the other grasps onto your thigh. The beastman easily stands up, supporting both his and your weight as he heads towards the food stands.
"Who knew you were such a softie, Jack! Hehe." You tease, pressing a kiss against the side of his neck. The beastman flushed even more, avoiding your gaze at all cost.
"Tch. I-I don't go around doing this for anyone."
âââââââââââââââââââââ ¡ ¡
â â°Â AZUL
Sugar dad-I mean-financial help<3 #2
Azul lived to spoil you.
For you, the octo-mer gleefully buys mountains of clothing. Your entire wardrobe has been thoughtfully planned by him (and often rapidly purchased, Floyd is always the victim to his 12am shopping whims).
Other than clothing, he's also quite fond of jewelry. He clasps pure pearls to your ears, drapes diamonds over your neck, and slips rings onto your fingers. It would be the highlight of Azul's day to see the items he had purchased for you proudly displayed for all the students on campus to see.
ę°â§âËâď¸âŕźâ§âË.
"Shall we?" he asks softly as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you up from your chair. The smooth white silk of your dress cascades off the plush leather seat, draping down to your ankles. Azul swiftly guides you away from the lounge, signaling at both Floyd and Jade in the corner to clean up before turning his attention back to you, once more. "I hope the food was to your liking, angelfish?"
"Oh, it was," you confirm, a smile playing on your lips. Leaning up, you press a warm kiss against his lips, one which he returns. "Thank you for the wonderful night, Azul! The dress as well. It looks beautiful."
"Why, of course." The octo-mer hums, running his hand up your back. As he slips both of you into his room, he shuts the door with his foot and guides you to his vanity. "Though I do have one last gift."
"Another?" You chuckle, "Don't you think you spoil me too much? I don't want it to seem like I'm leeching off of youâŚ"
"No, you could never," Azul says as he motions you to a seat near the table of his vanity. The octo-mer reaches over and opens a drawer, revealing a nice velvet box.
As the box is opened, a gorgeous sea-glass necklace with a stunning silver-coral colour is exhibited to you. It sat prettily atop a white plush pillow, winking at you. Azul deftly runs a hand up your neck to pull your hair back and your lips parts in a "o" when he clasps it on.
"Azul," you breathlessly murmur. "I can't possiblyâThis must have cost a fortune."
"It's for you," Azul smiles. "Only for you."
âââââââââââââââââââââ ¡ ¡
â â°Â JADE
You have scary eel privileges'
It was not uncommon for Jade to come knocking at your door in opportune times of the night to accompany you out for a walk. You mentioned once how you loved stargazing and Jade hasn't let that go since. For he too had always carried a fondness for the night, more specifically, the moon.
It was constant, a repetitive lustrous cycle, and despite his thrill seeking nature, he took comfort in its consistency. Walks with you were the highlight of his week, and he certainly does not take interruptions from pesky little bugs lightly.
ę°â§âËâď¸âŕźâ§âË.
The night sky above Ramshackle was littered with painted specs of sparkling stars, burning brightly amidst the gradients of blue and black. Jade had a firm hand situated by the small of your back, gently guiding you along the dirt path of the trail.
"It's so beautifulâŚ" You murmur in astonishment, craning your head up to peer up at the canvas of stars. Chuckling, Jade tugs you in closer to slip his large jacket over your shoulders. "I'm glad you like it, pearl. I do hope it's not too cold?"
"Not at all."
Both of you continue along your hike, going deeper and deeper into the thick, dense forest. As you trudged on, a bundle of wild mushrooms caught your eye and you halted to a stop, recognizing the patterns and spots on the fungi in a book Jade had once shown you.
"Wait here a moment. I just saw those mushrooms you wanted so bad. I'll go get it!" Before Jade could even reply, you were already off, sneaking past tall bushes and prickly trees.Â
Just as you were about to pick your first mushroom, a low growl interrupts you. Freezing, your eyes dart upward to see a Savanaclaw student towering over your form.Â
He did not seem happy.
"Oya? You're that Ramshackle punk, aren't you?âŚI have to say, Leona let you off real easy after that little spy mission you did in our dorm." He sneers, rolling the joints of his shoulders and moving closer, backing you up against a tree. "That's all good with meâŚCuz' If he won't do something bout' it, then I will."
Suddenly, he was drawing his fist back, aiming for you. The sudden shift happened so quickly that all you could do was flinch and hunch over, preparing yourself for a hit.
Only for it to never come.
"My, my," a familiar voice muses. Breath hitching in your throat, you peek up and see Jade looming behind the boy. The eel's hand was coiled tight around the beastman's wrist, clasping tighter and tighter until there was a sickening snap.Â
"How foolish of you to think I would allow that."
âââââââââââââââââââââ ¡ ¡
â â° FLOYD
You have scary eel privileges' #2
Floyd was a lot softer and caring than a lot of people would give him credit for. That or he just gives you special treatment. After all, the big bad eel found you endearing. You were his one and only beloved little shrimpy.Â
You were the one who stood by him even when others dismissed him as strange or frightful because you loved and adored him wholeheartedly. So, he can't help but be protective of you.
Nothing will ever hurt you so long as he's by your side.
ę°â§âËâď¸âŕźâ§âË.
"Shrimpy? What're you doing here?"
Sniffles and cries wreck your chest as you curled up on Floyd's bed, clutching his shrimp plush tight in your arms. Said eel was standing by the door, a look of shock plastered onto his features before it turned ice-cold as he approached your weeping form.
"My poor shrimpyâŚ" Floyd rasps, tugging off his gloves to cup your wet cheeks with his big hands. "What's wrong with my shrimpy? Did someone do this? I'll squeeze 'em if they did."
The eel crawls into bed with you, tugging the plush out of your arms and slipping himself into your embrace. Soft warm kisses are peppered on your wet cheeks as Floyd coos at you.
Sobbing, you raise a hand to furiously wipe at your eyes before exclaiming, "It's Grim again! Why does he have to be so difficult?! I worked so hard for my alchemy exam, but it seems like he doesn't care! He's brought our grades down again!"
"It's that cat of yours again, huh?" Floyd clicked his tongue, thumb pressing against the corner of your teary eyes. He pressed a warm palm to your cheek, examining your face with close inspection as he slowly reached for your hand and set it down atop his beating heart. "No worries. Just let it all out, shrimpy. I'll have a talk with the baby seal later hehe~"
You sniffed and brushed his comments aside as you pulled away from the embrace, an action which made him pout. "âŚI'm not sure he'd even listen. Grim is as stubborn as a rock."Â
"We'll see about that, shrimpy." Floyd scoffs, a frown on his face clearly visible as he pulls you closer once more.
"Yanno, I'm pretty good at alchemy myself." Floyd chirps, a dark grin slowly stretching across his cheeks. "I'm sure the baby seal won't mind having a private tutor session with good ol' me."
âââââââââââââââââââââ ¡ ¡
â â° ROOK
This man WORSHIPS the ground you walk on.
As they say, "Before you die, experience the love of a writer, poet or painter. If you're lucky enough to be an artist's muse, they will immortalize you." Such a muse you were to Rook.
Though it would take quite a lot of coaxing before he could have the pleasure of having you as his muse, at the rare moments you did agreeâRook did his utmost best to do you justice on the canvas.
ę°â§âËâď¸âŕźâ§âË.
Portraiture looked into the life of the subject, revealed what was hidden deep inside, and examined it. With his hunter-like manner, Rook was all too acquainted with this study.
"A-Am I doing this right?" You murmur, trying your best not to move around as you held a bouquet of daisies up to your chest. There was a cream-tinted dress draped across your body as you reclined against the backdrop Rook had set up.
"Oui. Such beauty in your gaze, trickster. Angels lurk behind your eyes." The hunter flirts, resolute gazed locked onto your flustered ones as he drags his brush against the palette. There was an experiment with the hues for a time before he blended a few other colors.
"I cannot thank you enough for allowing me to do this." As he'd found the color he wanted, Rook turned back to you. He took careful note of every nuance and detail of your glowing visage and committed as much as he could to memory. Rook knew heâd have to make your portrait perfect. He simply couldnât allow for anything else.
"You're very persistent," you huff with a small smile on your face. "I had to cave in eventually, huh?"
"But, of course!" Rook cheekily grins, turning his attention back to the canvas. "I can't let a chance like this pass me by."
Time passed and layers upon layers of color came together to form the picture he sought after. Out to the right, spread across a lush sofa, was your incandescent form. And he surely didn't hold back on the details. The creases in the fabric, the curve of your smile, and the contours of the plush pillows scattered on either side of the plush crimson sofa all draw the eye.
It was a large painting that he had boldly placed in Pomefiore's living room, much to Vil's chagrin. Try as he might, the dormleader couldn't get the hunter to remove it at all.
âââââââââââââââââââââ ¡ ¡
â â° MALLEUS
Princess treatment? pff. That's cute. No, it's queen treatment to him.
You had a bad tendency of rambling on about whatever that came to mind, often without realising that another person was in the same room as you. Even if you initially didn't mind this little quirk of yours, recent events have made you realise that you should probably curb your mouth-running.
Even more so considering that your partner, caring as he was, had a tendency to be quiteâŚimpulsive. Especially when it comes to matters concerning your comfort and well-being.
ę°â§âËâď¸âŕźâ§âË.
Malleus was flipping through a catalogue of colour samples and scrutinizing each texture with careful judgment. Slipping the page into your hands, he murmurs, "This is all rather lovely. Perhaps a dark crimson will suffice. Or would you like this wine red dye, my dear?" The dragon looked at you, patiently awaiting your response.
Only for there to be none.
You stood awkwardly at his side, your cheeks flaming up with shame. Tugging at his coat, you rose up on your tiptoes and whispered quietly, "TsunotaroâŚwhen I whined about it being cold, I didn't mean for you to go this far."
"Oh?" He quirks a brow up, "Do you not like these colors?"
"Mal," you utter gently, handing the catalogue back to him. "I don't really think we need toâ"
"Young Master. If I may," Sebek interrupts, voice raising to a strained high squeak, "Please do tell. Why are we replacing every.single marble floor in the dormâŚwith carpet?"
Malleus draws you in his arms, all while ignoring the enraged stare painted on Sebek's face. "My darling's feet become frigid cold when they walk along the marble flooring. I think it's due time for it to get redone," he says while running his hands tenderly up your back and gazing at you with a ghost of a smile on his lips.
Sebek blinks, a strained smile sneaking up on his cheeks, "Well. I'm sure they can use slippersâ"
"Nonsense." Malleus snarls, eyes flashing a luminous green. "How dare you even think of subjecting them to such a ludicrous act. Hmph. UsingâŚslippersâHow preposterous."Â
"No. I think my way is much better." Shaking his head, Malleus turns back to the catalogueâpaying no mind to the grief-stricken look on his retainer's face. "Now dearest, do you think burgundy would look good in the kitchen?"
âââââââââââââââââââââ ¡ ¡
ââ° SEBEK
Carries your sparkly pink purses for you, slay king<3
Sebek was not a fool. The fae was well aware he could be a bitâŚmuch at times. And even if he doesn't express it, he really values your nearly infinite patience with him.Â
The boy was awkward at affection, and this is especially highlighted when it comes to anything involving romantic gestures. Even though your snappy crocodile was hard-headed and stubborn at times, he still showed you how much he cared in his own little ways. Even if it were something as simple as carrying your sparkly pink bag around the campus.
ę°â§âËâď¸âŕźâ§âË.
"You ought to have known better than to jest so lightly about Diasomnia that way!" Sebek barks out, a leather-clad finger digging deep into Ace's chest. However, as opposed to being upset as Sebek had anticipated, the ginger chortles, muffled giggles sneaking past his clamped up lips.
"Sebek, buddy." Ace wheezes out, shoulders shaking from the strain of his suppressed laughter. "It's kinda hard to take you seriouslyâŚwh-when you have that."
The Heartslabyul runt gestures towards your designer purse, which was snugly resting against Sebek's bicep, slung over his shoulder.Â
It was quite the eye-catcher. The sparkling pink diamonds of its handle twinkled a bright brilliant white, so bright in fact that it was almost blinding.Â
Epel takes notice of the logo and crocodile keychain attached to it and he perks up.
"Oh, it's one of those girly-lookin' designer bags Vil is always yappin' about," Epel points out, squinting his eyes to get a better look at it. "Ain't that the prefect's bag?"
Unfazed by Ace's mocking, Sebek scoffs arrogantly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Indeed, it is. As a knight-in-training, it is only right for me to possess the quality of a gentleman. Chivalrous acts like this are nothing to be ashamed of." He abruptly snapped his head over to glower at Ace, who was sitting rather comfortably in the cafeteria bench, crossing one leg over the over as he met Sebek's irritated stare. "Not that I anticipate someone like you to ever have experience with it.."
Sebek then rose from the table and strode boldly in the direction of your classroom, the pink bag swinging with each heavy step he took. Epel was leaning over the table, placing a shaky hand on Ace's shoulder as loud laughter racked through his body.
"Darn' right," Epel cackles, wiping the tears away from his eyes before turning to the ginger. "Nice ta' see someone still has sum chivalryâŚUnlike you, Ace."
The ginger visibly deflates, rolling his eyes as he mutters, "Yeah, yeah. We get it. He's down bad."
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hihihihi! đ if youâre willing, can you write a little something with shy!r being the one to initiate the first kiss with hotch but her glasses get in the way? tytyty! đđź
âHotch almost dies and you canât take it anymore. Heâs not expecting a kiss. fem, 1.7k
The thing is that you donât mean to panic. Hotch is marching out of the building with handcuffs cut open on his wrists, Emily and Morgan just in front of him, and youâd been stuck out here with JJ because they never let you do the touch and go stuff. An UnSub held a shotgun to the back of Hotchâs head and you just had to watch.Â
You hold yourself in place with all your strength as they come down the path of the house to the blockade of cars and emergency vehicles. âIâm fine,â he says, before any of you can ask him. âNot a scratch on me.âÂ
You can see the skin of his wrists has cut from tugging, so heâs lying, but thatâs not surprising. You shift with your hands clenched together. Heâs closer now, you could touch him, nearly speechless as he says, âHonestly, Iâm surprised it happened to me, and not Reid.âÂ
Everyone else laughs.Â
You canât take it. He looks at you, and you, despite the last year of pushing down feelings of nervousness and affection, of pretending you donât notice how his fingers feel when they brush the backs of your hands or the way his suit stretches across broad shoulders, despite practice, you canât stay still any longer.Â
You weave around JJ, past Spencer, in between Rossi and Hotch himself to press yourself to his chest. You hug him tightly, worried he might disappear if you donât hold on. Safe, your brain says, even as your hands tremble. Heâs safe.Â
âIâm alright,â he says quietly, clasping your back carefully. The handcuff stuck to his wrists jabs through your vest. You can feel it on the bone.Â
âIââ Your eyes are still open, too shocked to let them close.Â
âIâm fine.âÂ
You take that for a polite âunhand meâ and step back. His hand lingers on your shoulder as though checking you for injury, like youâre the one who just had a gun to their head. âYouâre sure you're okay?â you ask.Â
âIâm not hurt.âÂ
You look pointedly at his wrists.Â
âMm,â he says, turning on the spot. âI suppose I am. But thereâs nothing to worry about.âÂ
Youâre egregiously worried regardless. In an attempt to keep from making the situation about you, you turn away from him and take a walk, pretending you need something from the car you came in. You open the passenger door, sweeping your hands across the leather seat for your phone, but you donât want it, so you hold it in two hands and try to calm down. Youâre shaking like crazy. He must have felt it when you hugged him.Â
If you thought he cared enough about his life to prioritise it you might not have panicked as hard, but an advantage to being quiet is getting the opportunity to really listen to people. You donât talk much, but Hotch does, heâs always telling someone what to do, or reassuring them, and heâs constantly on the phone trying to coordinate. Youâve heard his voice for hours on end. So when Rossi told him through the wire that they were gonna get him out of there, you heard the fake confidence in Hotchâs voice as he said, âI know.âÂ
He didnât know. He was scared, so you were terrified.Â
You check the time. Itâs almost two in the morning but the cars give enough light to see inside the car. You trace the stitching on the seat, your eyes sore and blurry at once. Admitting defeat, you climb into the seat and dig around for your glasses. Youâd thought you might need them âif Hotch was injured youâd need to go to the hospital and your contacts are dailies, so you knew youâd have to take them out.Â
You pull the sun guard down and flip the cover on the mirror to take your contacts out, dropping them in the glasses case to throw away later. Your eyes sting. You rub them hard.Â
âY/N,â a familiar voice says.Â
Hotch is a blob. You slide your glasses open and up your nose, blinking as he comes back into definition. âHotch.â Theyâve cut his handcuffs off and wrapped light bandaging around his wrists. âOkay?â you ask.Â
âAre you?âÂ
âIâm fine, sorry.â You clear your throat. âMy eyes are tired, thatâs all.âÂ
He stares at you for too long. Desperate to be out of his scrutiny, you get out of the car and shut the door. âCan we go home soon?â you ask.Â
âI believe so.âÂ
âOh,â you say, looking down at his hand, âgood.âÂ
Thereâs another gap of silence, and then simultaneously:
âAre youââ
âCan Iââ
Hotch smiles. âYou first.â
âAre you sure youâre okay? That mustâve been so scary.â
Hotch gives his head a slow shake. âIâm fine. I was more scared at the time than I wouldâve liked to admit to, but Iâm okay now. Iâve felt worse.âÂ
âReally? Worse than that?â you ask, trying but failing to smile. Your wrist is too hot in your own hand.Â
He seems to measure his response. âWhen you and JJ got stuck in the middle of New York a few months ago, when we couldnât contact you, that was the most scared Iâve ever been on the job.âÂ
New York. Heâd just separated from Haley, and everyone kept telling you how much chemistry he had with Kate, and you were already hopeless for him. It sucked. He almost died and you had to act like everything meant nothing to you, he was just your boss.Â
But youâre friends now. Maybe you can be a little more honest.Â
âI was scared too,â you say. You canât help pouting. You must look like a petulant kid. âYou wouldnât believe it, Hotch, I watched you on the camera twenty different times. And now today, I had to see it again, I canât keep watching this stuff happen to you.âÂ
âThatâs the job.âÂ
âBut why does it have to be you?â you ask. Â
His eyes track over your entire face, his brow ever so slightly furrowed. âBecause it does, and it always will,â he says, eyes softening, voice like silk. Heâs talking to you like youâve hung the moon even as he lays down an unfortunate truth. âYou shouldnât worry about me. I know exactly what it is that Iâm doing. I donât want you to worry about me.âÂ
âI canât help it.âÂ
He smiles just a touch. âI know. I canât help it either.âÂ
You look at him and you know heâs not gonna kiss you. He might want to âitâs insanity, it doesnât feel real, he almost died tonight and you never wouldâve known how this feels.Â
You step into his chest. Youâre frowning at him, the edge of tears without any of the heat. âI donât know what Iâd do if something really happened to you,â you confess.Â
The scratch in your voice perturbs him. Careful, his hand comes to rest against the small of your back, drawing you in.Â
âIâm sorry,â you say.Â
âDonât be. Please. God knows Iâd lose my mind if it had been you in there tonight.âÂ
He doesnât move as you touch his cheek. Doesnât step away as you steel your nerves. He must know what youâre about to do, but he doesnât stop you. For a moment you canât let yourself have it. But then he lets out a breath, and closes his eyes, and he angles his head down to meet you. You tip your head to the side and lean in.Â
For a few seconds, your chest is uncomfortably hot, and youâre so scared heâs not gonna kiss you back and that youâre ruining everything you canât think right. And Hotch âHotch must know exactly how he likes to be kissed, and youâre probably not doing it right. But youâve wanted it for long enough to try twice. You kiss him with lips parting, your hand unsteady on his cheek.Â
He makes a sound at the back of his throat and curls you in.Â
Youâre hungry for it, thereâs no other word âthe second he responds you bear up. You kiss him hard enough to make your lips sting.
âAh,â he says with a laugh, tilting his head to the side. âI think you blinded me.âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
âYour glasses, sweetheart. Theyâre at risk of giving me a concussion.âÂ
Sweetheart. You touch your glasses, remember the problem and touch his face, just under his eye. âShit, Iâm sorry.â
He pushes them up against your forehead. âOkay?â
âI canât see you.âÂ
âWell, I donât think thatâs a necessity unless you do,â he says.Â
Youâre not sure what he means until heâs brought his hands to your neck, holding you by either side.Â
âItâs been a long time since someone surprised me,â he says softly. Before you can make sense of it, heâs leaning down to kiss you chastely. Heâs much sweeter about it than youâd been and what an embarrassment that is, youâd thrown yourself at him and heâs kissing you like a prince.Â
He kisses you. His thumb runs along your cheek. When he pulls away he smiles, settling your glasses tenderly back on the bridge of your nose.Â
âIâm really alright,â he says. Heâll be lucky if you ever speak again. Knowing, he cups your face with his thumbs, his fingers slipped behind your neck.Â
You duck your head. He takes it as a sign to hug you, ushering your face into his neck, your glasses smushed to your eyes. If he can feel the heat coming off of you, heâs kind enough not to mention it.Â
âDonât go shy on me now,â he murmurs.Â
âDo you think I can give you back?â you ask.Â
Youâre glad when he laughs, a surprised chuckle that vibrates from his chest to yours. âThatâs harsh, agent.âÂ
You were obviously kidding, but the teasing has to stop. You wonât survive it.Â
âWill you kiss me again?â you ask under your breath.Â
Heâs too busy doing as youâve asked to tease you. Youâre too busy being kissed to remember you were scared.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds
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how do you think mean!abby would react to reader being overstimulated? out in public or at home?
when youâre in public, i think sheâd be more alert, more understanding. especially if youâre somewhere loud, hot, crowded, or just uncomfortable in general. sheâd be quick to whisk you away from whereverâs overstimulating you, finding a private place, whether it be her car or an empty bathroom.
abby noticed you pouting after giving her short, one syllable answers for the past twenty minutes. obviously, you were in a bad mood. she stops dead in her tracks, causing you to bump into her from behind.
âare you okay?â she asks, although she knows the answer.
âyeah.â you mumble.
âare you lying to me?â she smiles.
âno.â
âtell me whatâs wrong?â
âno.â
âiâm not mad, i swear.â she says calmly. âi just wanna know whatâs wrong so i can help you.â
âwhatâs wrong is that iâm tired.â you start. âweâve been here for like 4 hours, itâs a hundred degrees out, iâm sweating so much my shirt is sticking to my body, my feet hurt, iâm hungry, and i wanted to leave 3 hours ago.â you gush.
abby chuckles, she knows sheâs right. you scoff at her, apparently she thinks your discomfort is hilarious. she ignores your complaints and instead wraps you up in a hug, rubbing up and down your back. âdo you wanna leave?â she asks.
âyes!â you practically shout. âiâve wanted to leave. for hours.â
swiping away the tears that escape from your eyes, she picks you up in a bridal carry and hauls you all the way back to the car. you canât help but giggle, suddenly so grateful for your girlfriendâs giant muscles.
soon enough sheâs setting you in the car, the hot black leather stinging your skin. she climbs in the drivers seat, starting up the car and flicking the air conditioner to the coolest setting. you sigh, the change of scenery starting to calm your nerves. abby reaches over to grab your hand and places a kiss to each of your fingertips, punctuating the last one with a whispered âi love you.â
as for being at home, i think sheâd be a little less put together. her home is her safe space, so why are you so worked up? sheâd still take care of you, obviously, but it would take a little longer for her to figure out exactly whatâs wrong.
abby hears your muffled sobs coming from the kitchen, so she rises from the couch and practically flies over to you, terrified that you chopped one of your fingers off or something. instead she finds you sitting on the floor, holding your head in your hands. you gaze up at her sudden appearance, your dripping eyes making her figure look blurry.
âwhatâs wrong?â she asks, panicked. âare you hurt? did you burn yourself?â
âabby.â you groan through your tears.
the panic in her chest rises, she searches around you for any smears of blood or any massive spills in the kitchen, but finds nothing. âanswer me.â she demands, prying your head out of your elbows. âwhatâs wrong?â she asks again.
you swat her away, squirming against her hold on your head. she pulls you close to her, her body temperature making you overheat more than you already are and the position adding to the ache in your back.
âabby. leave me alone.â you cry. doesnât she know that sheâs making it worse? the last thing you want is to have a conversation right now, the pounding headache almost making it impossible for you to speak. âi donât wanna talk, please.â you moan, sniffling into your sleeves. âjust put me back down.â
âtell me what happened first.â she demands, smirking like somethingâs funny.
you choke on a sob, damn her for being such an asshole. âi have a splitting headache, iâve been standing up all day and itâs hurting my back, iâm overheating and standing in front of the oven isnât helping, and i got sugar all over the place and now everythingâs sticky.â
oh. well shit, now she feels bad for manhandling you and laughing at your dismay. but she doesnât say anything back, instead scooping you up and carrying you to bed. âthere are still cookies in the oven.â you complain, and she kisses you sweetly. âiâll get âem.â she assures you.
and once she pulls the last tray out of the oven, she wipes down the kitchen and rinses out all of the bowls and measuring cups before grabbing you a glass of water and heading toward the bedroom. the sight of you sleeping soundly with both kittens curled around you makes her knees weak, and she canât help but plant a few more kisses on your cheeks and whisper âi love you, iâm sorry for being a jerk.â
#THANKS FOR THE REQ TEHE#abby anderson#abby the last of us#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson headcanons#abby anderson tlou2#abby anderson fluff#the last of us
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you're okay | myg (m)
Summary:Â Let it hurt and burn. Let it out; and then let it fade away. Let it heal. Yoongi can't lift all your burdens, but he has taught you at least this much over the years.
âł pairing: Yoongi x reader âł rating: 18+ âł genre: s2l/est. rel.; angst, fluff, smut âł warnings: this one's heavy :') pov switches, switching between past and present, reference to the d-day documentary, mental health issues, therapy, depression and anxiety, mentioned unaliving attempt, mentions of fainting, slight mention of SA, implied panic attack, lots of trauma, lots of sadness, healing journey/healing with yoongi, feelings of loneliness, feeling unworthy, oc is very unsure and thinks she's a burden, tears and crying; explicit sexual content: (brief) protected sex, oral (f. receiving), masturbation, kissing/making out. please heed the warnings <3 âł word count: 11.5k âł a/n: hi hi. not the average taegularities fic, i think. once again, please do note the warnings before reading. it's okay if it's too heavy and you need breaks â take care of yourself. it's a very very personal piece that i just needed to get out of my system. yoongi's snooze inspired it; i still cry when i listen to it â i'm thankful it saved me in so many ways, and i hope you feel the same way about this fic. i love you all; here's to healing and living đ âł listen to: snooze by agust d ft. ryuichi sakamoto & woosung đ¤
TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs
The weather changes at warp speed these days.
When you left just this morning, it was raining buckets. The shower barely allowed a glimpse at the sky, grey as smoke; ominous clouds were bursting, fast cars and busy passengers on the sidewalk rushing through the world.
You were one of them, not necessarily impressed by the downpour. But you smiled when someone halted, stretching an arm to force the doors of the bus open until you were inside.
The tender gesture lit up your gloomy morning, a proof of how the world isnât all misery and ruin. For a couple minutes and hours, that strangerâs smile lifted the weight off your leather jacket clad shoulders. You were burdened by nothing but the bag hanging on your side.
But now, the same jacket is draped over your arm and feels much heavier than before; stripped off when the sun broke through the clouds around the afternoon. The additional weight gives you grief; youâre relieved when you hang it onto a rack, step out of your shoes and drag yourself to the bathroom.
God, all actions seem so passive these days.
Passive and automatic, just half-conscious. Youâre fatigued and lost in your head. Frankly, you need your bed. You hate that you still need to shower. You wish you could skip that part and still keep your body healthy and clean.
And as you stand under the water, shifting your balance to the right leg and back, you realise that another work day is over and another one is coming. Interactions, productivity, the craving your bed. You need the weightlessness.
So much so that you soon feel the knot in your chest, intensifying, and the heat of the water combines with an uncomfortable breathlessness until your knees bend a little. Immediately, you plant your palms against the bathroom tiles, taking a seat on the shower floor.
You cross your legs; the thought of your father is immediate because he always taught you to take a seat wherever once you start feeling dizzy. Since that one adolescence day when you passed out and hurt your chin, you have followed this advice and prevented worse.
Your head spins for a moment, your chest tight; and you hear a dull thump. Thereâs an odd rustle in your ears, mixed with the sound of the dripping water; so you donât notice the call of your name right away.
Keeping your answer absent for another moment, you only wrap your arms around your chest, just to keep yourself whole. You feel like your body might fracture into a dozen pieces.
The shampoo bottle that presumably caused the thump before rolls against you, and you gasp in uncomfortable surprise; immediately hear another slurred, âHey! Are you okay? Whatâs going on?â
It's him; heâs always worried. Maybe thatâs what youâve been struggling with so much lately. The fact that you never suffer alone whenever the weight on your shoulder and brain drags you down too far.
A worried voice chimes again, breaking the sound of the shower jet, and you suddenly become hyper aware of his concern, rushing to finally get out. You exclaim a reassuring, âAll good!â before the silence can prolong or betray you.
His calls stop, probably relieved when you add another, âComing.â
You envelop your body in your towel; just a moment later, he knocks. You wouldâve opened even if he hadn't.
Yoongi stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, and breathes in the sauna-esque air. His mouth turns into a surprised circle, and he blinks before he blows out a breath and states, âYou showered hot today, huh?â
âMhh,â you hum, âthe sun never keeps me from doing so. Feels good.â
He smiles, watches your lotioned hands hydrate your skin, very slowly and very delicately. When you sigh in something he interprets as fatigue, he asks, âDo you need help?â
Four simple words, but they soothe something in your wrinkly, grey brain. The knot of stress loosens just a little, and you sigh deeply, telling him, âYes, please.â
He doesnât hesitate to step behind you, picking up the pink, wooden brush lying on the laundry basket next to you to release the knots in your wet hair. For a couple of minutes, you indulge in the massage; and then wallow in the feeling of his hands on your face, taking over to do your skincare.
And then, gentle as he is, he helps you into your clothes. You feel somewhat pathetic, but most of all, thankful â anything to get through the night.
âYou all set?â he asks once heâs done, palms on your shoulders. You touch the digits of his left hand, leading them to your lips to kiss them softly before you nod.
You follow him into the living room, detecting the still present sunrays protruding through the spots that the sheer curtains donât filter. Itâs not dark yet, but the light is slowly fading. The star is preparing to drown behind the horizon, dusk in motion.
The pretty hues give you a brief yet strange burst of motivation; often, you fear the night more despite its serene reputation. Too dark, too haunting.
Yoongi has already set the table; he starts to ladle the sundubu-jjigae into your bowl, rice in another smaller dish next to it. You sit; you feel endlessly indebted and silently terrified at once. The food looks amazing, so the taste isnât the problem.
Your boyfriend is a good cook, and you thank the deities every day for his existence. It was much harder to get by and assemble a meal when you lived alone.
But your expression is still the opposite of what itâs supposed to be, and when he sees it, he asks, âYou good? Have you eaten yet?â
âNo.â
âThen eat a little, okay? As much as you can.â
You gulp, oblige. You know your body calls for it, so you listen to it, chewing a couple bites, even though it feels impossible to actually swallow. God; you need to stop your chest and stomach from trying to convince you that everything is heavy.
Your clothes, your heart, your thoughts.
You know it isnât true. It drives you mad when your own brain proves this treacherous, attempting to lie to you like this.
Then again, energy dwindles faster these days. Your body knows; maybe thatâs why you feel tired. You need to sleep â maybe that could help you feel a bit more feathery.
But shit, you wish there was a more efficient charger for human beings than sleep, so you could be productive. Your mind wonât let you sleep properly anyway.
âIs it good?â Yoongi asks, interrupting your thoughts. Heâs always the first to notice when youâre overexerting yourself, even just at dinner.
âItâs very good,â you respond truthfully, even raising your voice to make yourself sound livelier, âas Iâd expect from you.â
âThen Iâm glad. Thought Iâd make you something good, since you worked longer.â
âAlways attentive, arenât you?â
âI try to be.â His spoon drops in his bowl, and he reaches out, touching your cheek just long enough for your heart to stir. âHow was work?â
HmâŚ
You donât remember too well. You know you went there at least, and you know you did whatever you had to â but you canât recall details. So all you say without dousing the atmosphere in negativity is, âAs always.â
âWas Nayeon at work today?â
âNope,â you tell him, sending wordless, good vibes towards your best work buddy. âStill sick. A stomach bug, I think. I really hope she feels better soon.â
âSana again then?â
âYeah, spent most of the day with her. Sheâs always so sweet, though⌠I should talk to her more often.â
You dig into your rice again, trying it with a bigger bite this time. Then, you shake your head in apology, looking back at Yoongi as you ask, âAh, Iâm sorry, baby⌠how was work for you?â
âAs always,â he echoes, âthought of you a lot.â
âMhm⌠obsessed much?â you jest, trying a little beam.
âYou know me.â
Thatâs it. You nod; you understand the weakness of your smile, so you lower your head altogether. He sees; of course he does. Yet, he waits and watches you toy with your food. You know the question is approaching before it lands, âAnother low?â
Another lowâŚ
You could cry. You could burst into tears immediately if you didnât feel so⌠empty. A vacant soul, pieces coloured by nothing but him. Yoongi sparks the magic most of the time, even drilling through the numbness.
âYeah,â you whisper, not crying yet, but the corners of your mouth drop. âItâs been a while.â
âMonths, yes? Which is great, my love.â His voice is so mellow, deep, like an antidote. âYouâre doing really well.â
âYeah.â
You are. Because at one point in your life, you used to feel this way all the time. Ever since you found somebody to rely on, someone who listens, youâve gotten a bit better. He puts you together as if heâs resolving a dispersed puzzle.
But certain phases at certain times still hit you unexpectedly, like a revved up truck.
âDo you want to talk about it?â Yoongi offers.
âThereâs nothing really to talk aboutâŚâ
âOkay. Do it if you need to, though, okay? Eat a little more?â
You do. Fuck, you feel so babied sometimes; you wonder if he discerns things like this, too. That he isnât really taking care of and loving his girlfriend, but rather babysitting a broken child.
You whoosh the thought away with a blink, finishing more than half of your meal before you set the cutlery aside. You down the last bite with cold water, sauntering to the bathroom, and then meet Yoongi on your bed.
He probably already put the food in the fridge and the dishes in the dishwasher; he mustâve operated rapidly to be here already, awaiting you. The laptop is open and its screen bright, and you know without stepping onto the mattress that heâs opened YouTube.
Less for him, more for you.
If he wanted to spend the remaining minutes of the night scrolling through reels, he could easily do so on his phone. But no⌠this feels more like an invitation. A quick, sweet date before sleep, just to watch a few animal videos that rarely ever fail to make you smile.
As you crawl into him, watching cats protecting newborn babies or dogs jumping their owners affectionately, you do smile. You laugh, even. You feel somewhat at ease here with him, but you know youâll go back to ground zero in the morning.
When youâve left and heâs gone to work.
And you hate it. You hate that youâre dependent on him like this⌠Yoongi calls it finding comfort in somebody you love, and you donât disagree. But adding to this, you think youâre limiting his options by shackling yourself to him.
By demanding that comfort.
You sigh in his arms, breathing calmer than before, but not enough to sleep. Yet, he asks, âHey⌠sweetheart. Are you awake?â
âI am.â
âIâm just thinking⌠Do you want me to call the therapist tomorrow?â
Shit⌠why does the ball of guilt keep growing? How does he think of this and you donât? Have you really sunk this deep again? Youâre stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
âI⌠I should do it myself,â you mumble.
âI donât mind.â
âNo, Iâll just do it in the morning. I think I should⌠do things for myself, too, right?â
He pauses. Ponders your words; or at least, thatâs what you surmise from the way he breathes and sighs and hums. And youâre proven right when he inquires, âDo you feel like I mind doing things for you?â
Yes. No.
No, you do not think so. But you sure as hell waste his time. Occupy it with this nonsense when he could be happier somewhere else, living his life, making plans for the future and rambling about the job he loves.
But noâŚ
Fucking calling the therapist for you.
You break.
It always happens in the worst moments; you donât know what it is, how it happens, but you break. Hard. Your motions stop, maybe even your breathing. But then you do sigh, so deeply that it burns, trying to keep your voice from shaking, to keep the tears at bay.
But this time, it doesnât work. Emotions heightened when Yoongi utters something heâs provided as a reminder over the years, âDonât hold back.â
So you donât.
There were days when this lesson was necessary, a gentle nudge to release the weight, and today is one of them. You weep, starting with soft whimpers that grow louder steadily, and you press into his chest until you're suddenly sobbing.
You sniffle with an aching head, holding onto him for dear life, barely noticing when your sobs, once again, morph into absolute wailing.
He embraces you, tighter with each inhale and exhale. Youâre so impossibly close to him, garbling something that he doesnât understand. His voice is pain-struck and trembling when he encourages, âCome again, baby? Talk to me.â
It takes a while; it doesnât work. And then, he chants, âGod, baby. My baby⌠itâs okay. Itâs okay.â
âNo!â you cry out, slurring your words, âNo⌠am a burden. Am fucking burdening youâŚâ
This is a clear thought, isnât it? Even in a moment like this, you think itâs true. And that maybeâŚ
Maybe you shouldâve never agreed to the lunch he offered you all those years ago. You would miss everything good in your life, lose the one thing you so cherish, but youâd at least rid him of you.
Those long six years ago, you should have just told him you were fine.
As a student, Yoongi always trod the same path from the second floor down to the entrance of the college, living into a routine â never really noticing much of significance. Heâd see other students whoâd be eating; talking; rushing to class.
And as a TA, Yoongi was used to another, different journey throughout the building, too; climbing down the same spiral staircase, hurrying through the scary, empty mezzanine, passing the same few rooms on the ground floor.
Heâd prepare to go home or to the library after attending his favourite psychology professorâs classes, assisting him to his best abilities. But this was different from all the other familiar routes heâd grown accustomed to.
These Wednesday afternoons did offer something of significance. Someone of significance.Â
Because every time he reached those rooms on the ground floor, youâd be there.
At first, he reckoned you always waited for your class to start, just at the time when his ended. But you were alone each time. The doors to the classrooms and lecture halls were all closed, and then there was you, a sole soul waiting for whatever miracle to appear.
It took a couple weeks for him to gather that you might not have been supposed to be there. He noticed it when he saw your eyes fixated on a spot, pupils never moving an inch, even when he walked past. At some point, heâd memorised just this expression on your face.
And then, bit by bit, he realised that your stance didnât seem quite normal. Your eyes were dead, hands never flinching. You emanated a sense of loneliness and stupefaction that he couldnât express in words.
Today, something in him stirred. Perhaps because heâd just covered social behaviour as a topic or perhaps because any proper human would recognise that something was wrong with you.
Your hands were holding a lidless cup that day, barely steaming anymore. You were blinking slowly, if at all. This time, he approached you with care, as if nearing a wounded deer; as if trying to keep it there and not frighten it away.
But when he leaned into you, a hand scarcely touching your shoulder, your head moved up to look at him slowly but surely. And your first reaction to him ever was a smile.
You remember that when you first looked at him, like really looked at him, his face seemed familiar to you. You were sure youâd seen him before, even if just in passing. He had this long, pretty, dark hair, covering his neck, a couple inches above his shoulders.
A kind face. A calm demeanour.
He stood there with pure relaxation between his eyebrows; one you hadnât felt in a while despite your falling face. Flawless porcelain skin, free of dark circles, free of exhaustion. When did you last look like this?
You smiled at him instinctively, a curious expression; you couldnât guess at all what he wanted or needed, but you were ready to listen. Youâd always listen to people â listen, listen, listen. Perhaps that was the exact problem.
This very attention towards him, coming this easily, made your shoulders sink in new dejection; everything did. Every thought was intrusive, unwelcome, too stretched for your liking.
Whenever you had a normal thought or a bad one thatâd at least pass immediately, you considered it a good day.
But you felt a tension around your temples by now; your head never felt at ease.
Yet, you asked, âYes?â
And he wondered in return, âAre you okay? You looked distracted and I thought I might ask.â
âOh⌠thatâs nice,â you commented, your voice a bit too quiet yet surprised; you cleared your throat, spoke up, âbut Iâm okay. I just sit here sometimes after my classes.â
âYou do?â
âMhm. To take a little break after all the information dump, yeah. Iâll go home soon, though, no worries.â
âHm⌠yeah. I just,â Yoongi started, hesitant â you now know he was trying to reveal something without appearing creepy. âI noticed you here a few times, so I wanted to ask just to be sure.â
He saw you here? You? And he came up to talk to you, just because heâd noticed you before? Baffling. You didnât think you were visible to anybody. You thought you faded in front of othersâ eyes.
âYouâre honestly so nice,â is all you said, hoping your eyes didnât reveal too much. How much his words affected you, and how they made you think you were just a little, a tiny bit perceptible.
âSure,â he responded, nodding. And when you failed to come up with more appreciative words, he prepared to move, bidding you goodbye with a single, âOkayâŚâ
Then, he was walking away; as grateful as you were, your energy-lacking body forced your eyes shut. You drew a deep breath. These few words youâd exchanged with him took everything out of you â that was the worst part of all this.
Interaction drained you. Loneliness drained you. The world and life were all draining, and you couldnât figure out anymore how to feel⌠awake. Sober without ever drinking.
When your eyes closed, you felt your surroundings starting to spin. Or maybe, it was you; as if someone had gripped your shoulders and was turning you in circles. There were so many weird particles behind your eyelids.
The rotation was insane, but nothing new. Shut down most of your other senses and peopleâs voices; like the one that returned a second later, the same as before. Shit. Had he seen you struggle? Was he seeing something nobody else ever would?
You werenât used to attention. You werenât used to someone noticing.
âHey, are you sure youâre okay?â the stranger with the familiar face asked, concern in his voice. âYou donât look like it.â
What was it? What was it about his gentle, low voice that lured you in? What was it about his attentive tone that made you want to tear up? Maybe because youâd bottled things up for so long.
But you held the liquid locked in your eyes. Proudly, barely.
âIâmâŚâ
You considered lying. You considered pulling a lame excuse out of your ass. But something in you snapped, snapped hard, and the truth spilled just before you could think twiceâ
âIf Iâm being honest⌠Iâm feeling pretty faint⌠I often do? I usually just need to sit down a bit or Iâll pass out.â
You hated using the word usually. As though your condition had become irreparable, like a chronic illness; and you were stating its treatment, only temporary.
âHmmâŚâ he hummed. âHave you eaten?â
âNot muchâŚâ
âThen that might be it,â he concluded, content with the deduction. In hindsight, you think he was hoping it was only that, nothing more. âDo you have something with you?â You shook your head. âAre you getting something?â
You shrugged.
You couldâve easily told the truth and said no; that the appetite was absent, that you were going to go home and hardly remember how you got there. That youâd throw your bag on the couch, take off all your clothes, not really bother for a shower and jump into your bed.
Then, youâd breathe. Survive.
You didnât have the energy to eat, to shower, and right now, somehow not even to lie. The remainder of it had been used in todayâs class and in this conversation.
He knew you couldnât come up with any bad justification, so he offered, âListen⌠I still have this sandwich with me that I was going to eat after class. You can have it if you want.â
What? That wasâŚ
âOh, no,â you blurted, raising a hand to reject, âyou should eat if you havenât yet.â
âLook, I totally get being selfless, but you donât look good andâŚâ He sighed, tilting his head. Eyebrows raised and expression suddenly stricter. âIf I can help anyhow, Iâd rather have that than anyone else finding you unconscious here later. Please?â
How could youâve resisted such a plea?
He was taking care of you and he didnât even know you. And your body understood; your body heard him. Because your stomach grumbled at the mention of the meal; it didnât mean anything to you, but it meant something to your hungry, craving body.
It often did that. Wishing to eat; then, not letting you swallow a bite.
You grabbed your bag and warily, carefully got to your feet. The man lifted a hand in caution, as if expecting for you to lose your balance. You did, just a little, swaying until youâd grounded yourself.
Goddamn it.
You nodded with a deep exhale and followed him as he suggested, âLetâs go to the courtyard. Get some fresh air. We can eat there and talk⌠or not talk if that's what you want.â
You kept moving your head up and down, fine with whatever. The fronts of it hurt due to the lack of nutrition; it was past four pm and youâd only eaten a damn banana.
He found you a shadowy spot away from the sun; it was late spring, the summer steadily approaching. The shade protected your tired eyes, guarded you from further headaches.
As you plumped onto the grass next to him, your fingers grazed it for a moment â and it felt good against your skin. A pleasant combination, the wind and the scent of grass; nearly freed your chest of the stuffy pain.
You watched his soft fingers fish out the sandwich, and then some salted peanuts for himself. Urged you to eat before spilling a handful of the nuts into his palm. God, you felt horribly guilty, but you knew you wouldnât be able to convince him to share the meal.
He⌠didnât even seem to mind a bit.
Wiping his hand on his pants, he finally introduced, âIâm Min Yoongi. Psychology student and TA. Judging from your spot every single Wednesday afternoon, you take psychology classes, too?â
âI do⌠yeah.â
You took a bite enough for mouses, but then proceeded with a larger, human-appropriate one. Your stomach felt odd; Min Yoongiâs small talk helped you eat, but the nervous feeling in your chest that never really went away weighed heavily on your tummy.
You added, âThinking of dropping it, thoughâŚâ
âWhy?â
âBecause I might be failing anyway. Havenât done much, and I still have a presentation on my paper left but have prepared nothing for it yet, either.â
âHave you asked the professor about a potential extension?â
Of course youâd thought about it. You always did. Which is why you despised having to answer, âNoâŚâ
No. Of course not. To most professors, mental health didnât matter as an excuse.
You understood, though. They graded every paper they received, surrendering their free time, their summer and their winter breaks. To grant you special treatment was something you regarded as unnecessary; you didnât think you were worth it.
âDo you feel like you could do better next term?â Yoongi asked.
âI donât know.â
Your sandwich was done and gone. You were still hungry; you felt the appetite all of a sudden. You knew it often came and went in waves, but somehow, the sandwich left you more pining than anything these days.
Yoongi saw as you licked your fingers clean of the mayonnaise; offered you some peanuts that you politely declined, greedy for something proper. Maybe youâd eat an actual dinner tonight.
After a while, Yoongi spoke, âOkay, I know Iâm a stranger to you and everything, but if you want, I could try to help you.â
Shit, but⌠that wouldâve meant putting in the effort. To get up, to meet him, to focus and to study. You didnât know if youâd be able to do all that. You didnât know how toâ
But his eyes were so sincere; a pure dark brown, sparkling in hope, for whatever noble reason. And you thought⌠you thoughtâŚ
If there was any chance to pass this class and get over with it, wouldnât you feel a gigantic wave of relief wash over you? After so damn long? Wouldnât it be worth it? Maybe a spark of hope ignited in your chest after all⌠maybe you could turn things around.
âYeahâŚâ you finally obliged. âYeah, thatâs really nice.â
âGreat. Are you free this Friday afternoon?â
After that, it became part of your routine to meet up with Yoongi every Thursday or Friday, depending on his own schedule. A couple weeks passed like a breeze; or at least, compared to the days you were used to.
Some time later, those meetings increased, and you found a profound liking in them. You still often struggled with leaving your apartment at all, sometimes deeming getting out of bed or brushing your teeth an impossible task.
But whenever Yoongi called, offering a nearby cafĂŠ â always a nearby cafĂŠ â youâd place all your energy into moving, throwing on clothes, leaving. You felt unworried with him; at least for a couple hours.
He wasnât just smart to an admirable degree; he was humorous, too. Motivating. Praised you for your ideas and your sharp mind. Youâd forgotten you still had it in you â you thought time had altered your brain chemistry, killed too many of its cells to still let your mind operate.
Today, he didnât suggest a cafĂŠ but a place you hadn't been to before. Yoongi had never invited you anywhere that wasnât a public space, careful with your feelings without ever mentioning the obvious issues you had.
He only really crawled out of his shell and gave you the address to this new spot once youâd invited him over, too â he couldnât make it, helping out the professor he assisted. But you reckon it was telling enough for him to understand how comfortable youâd grown with him.
So you went where he told you to go, and once you arrived, you recognised it as an office. A small one, but elegantly decorated, furniture sparse. And it wasnât just any office. A therapistâs office.
âThis is my momâs,â Yoongi explained as you inspected the books on the shelf and the overall soothing and fitting atmosphere, âsheâs out of town, so I thought we could study here today.
âOhâŚâ
He had to have heard your hesitancy, your uncertainty. This is the place they usually suggest in guidance books and in conversation to people like you. You didnât know how to feel; the emotions washing over you were an odd sensation. Not good, not bad.
But scary, somehow.
Yoongi put a soft hand on your shoulder, making you turn, and asked, âIs that okay for you?â
âYeah⌠itâs just⌠Iâve only really thought and read about therapy, but never quite seen an actual room like this.â You shook your head, clicking your tongue. âItâs crazy. How have I never been in one despite studying psychology for so long?â
âHmm, many students havenât been.â
âYeah.â
You stripped your bag off of you, taking a seat on the cosy patientâs couch. Pulled out your laptop and placed it on the table between you and where he seated himself on the therapistâs chair.Â
Swallowing a strange lump, you cleared your throat, starting the study session with, âOkay, so⌠I was thinking about what you said about the research question last time.â
âRightâŚâ
At this point, you couldnât really fathom why, but he seemed reserved today, a little distracted. Still providing as much information and intellect as he could; but his thoughts were slower and his eyes gentler.
You think you studied barely forty-five minutes when Yoongi called for a break â unusual, because it was mostly you to announce a pause in thoughts, when your brain would demand a couple minutes of peace.
He sighed, hands touching his thighs and then got up to bring you something to drink. Came back with two cups of tea. You thought heâd be returning with a glass of water, but upon seeing the beverage, your eyes widened; you told him, âThis is super nice of you, thanks.â
âOf course.â Pause. You slurped; then he did. A second later, he inquired, âCan I ask you something?âÂ
âMhm.â
You waited. Nothing came. You took another sip of the fruity winter tea in the middle of summer, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat under your nose that the heat caused. Then you looked up, big eyes staring into his just in time to see his mouth open.
âYou always seem so surprised when Iâm nice to you.â
AhâŚ
Heâd said heâd had a question, but the indication of an inquiry, the one lifting in tone at the end never came. His statement was his question. And you thought it wasnât the first time you heard it; you just never noticed you were doing it again.
Yoongi left the conclusion there, and the question mark hung somewhere between the two of you. Unspoken, containing a silent, âWhy?â
So you answered, âI just⌠uhm. People donât just do something like this for me without me asking. Itâs new to me how attentive you are.â
Sad. Just sad. You hated having to actually echo your innermost thoughts; you knew this wasnât normal.
He knew, too, because he said, âThis⌠is not how things should be.â
âBut this is how they ended up being. I mean itâs just tea. But I donât think anybody else sees me sitting there and goes like, Okay, Iâll do this lil something for her, you know?â
âWhich is insane. You deserve it all so much. More than anyone I know.â
If youâd still been drinking, you wouldâve choked. Those words were rare, not often uttered to you; how were you supposed to respond to them? Youâd long forgotten how to react to things at all â it didnât come too naturally to you anymore.
So all you did was laugh a little, as if replying to a joke. Genuinely, you wondered, âHow can you say something like that?â
âWhy not?â
âI mean, you probably know so many people.â
Yoongi blinked at you, as if waiting for your argument to proceed; but when it didnât, he lifted a shoulder, steadfast with his opinion as he answered, âSo? What do you think? That you feeling that way about yourself makes everyone else feel that way about you, too?â
You shrugged your shoulders just an inch, imitating his motions. Your gaze fell, as though catching yourself spewing pure gibberish. He continued, âYou have a pure heart. I donât think Iâve ever seen you being mean. And youâre strong, careful, and endure a shit ton.â
You looked up at him instantly. Let the last words reverberate in your mind, pushing them to the forefront between all your other messy thoughts. âOf course you knew,â you said.
âOf course. Youâre so obviously hurt and I hate that you are.â
Well, you hated it, too. ButâŚÂ
Your desperation came out in a whisper, âI donât know what to do about itâŚâ
You put the cup back onto the saucer; your fingers were warm when you pushed them into your hair, pressing your palms against your forehead, holding onto your mane. Elbows on your thighs. The world spun again until you felt his hand on your arm once more.
âHey.â He sounded softer again. âDo you want to take a longer break? We could stop for today and talk?â
âI donât knowâŚâ
âYou donât have to. But it feels to me like youâve never done that before⌠people donât want to listen.â His words hit you like bricks. Like heavy cement bricks. The pain was excruciating. âIs that it?â
You were still staring at your lap when he posed the question; your head whirred, so you didnât know where to start. Which is why you held onto the first complaint â you knew they were valid worries, but you always called them complaints, like you were a burden â and said,
âI just⌠I listen to everyone. I let people vent, I let them feel hurt, and I try to be there and lend a shoulder and just,â the words cascaded out of you like a wild waterfall; your throat clogged up again, âto be a good person and a good friend.â
You exhaled a shaky breath, the pressure back in your chest. âBut why do I not get any of it back? Why is it that everyone goes silent when Iâm hurting? Do I deserve this somehow?â
You felt tears pricking and burning in your waterline, and you blinked them away. Took another quick sip just to help your dry throat. Then, âI hate that I sound selfish? Like I only do things for people to get love back, but⌠thatâs not it. I just want to feel worthy of something, too.â
âYou donât sound selfish. Itâs never wrong or inhumane to demand affection and care, and if it is, then⌠every personâs selfish. Whatever.â
Up until that point, you hadnât known that someone could be this tender and direct at once. Yoongi lived in a reality that wasnât sugarcoated, but he understood empathy and heartbreak, knew to dip his words in an ointment alleviating enough.
You wondered what heâd endured to become this type of person; sympathy and a mind this sage often stem from grief once encountered, and you so hoped he was an exception to this belief of yours.
You looked at him with delicate fondness, mixed with some lasting trouble. He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You didnât know what came over you when you leaned into his palm, kept his gaze, and stayed in place when he moved in.
Kissed you.
And you didnât know why, but the moment opened your heart as if itâd been locked before; he was the key, undoing the lock so easily. That was when the first tear rolled down your cheek, meeting his skin, and you started trembling as he moved his mouth against yours.
You couldnât grasp why he was doing it; even if parts of you knew. Did he not care that you were broken? That you were still breaking? That the ache always consumed you, that you felt whatever your brain inflicted on you throughout your entire body?
Maybe not. He always said you were funny, sweet, never humorous at anybodyâs expense.
It was different from the things youâd heard before.
Nobody will love you like this.
Stop acting like youâre traumatised.
I didnât love you â I kept you because you were attractive. Because you let me.
You had always asked yourself: why had your feelings always been shoved aside when you voiced your opinion? Whenever it differed from the one in your family or your friendâs circle?
Why were you told to never open up about your childhood memories? When you were caged in; when somebody three times your age indulged in impudence when they shouldnât have, long ago when you were a child; when you fell in love at a later age and were forced to let go?
Why were you told you were tainted, that you couldnât get any affection like this, to keep your pain to yourself and forget about your past? And why was this sequence of nightmares plaguing you right now, like you were dying, just when he was kissing youâŚ
Because you were scared. So scared.
If you told Yoongi any of this, would he bolt? Would you hurt yet another person? Would he see you as a shattered porcelain doll, distance himself from you? Because honestly, why would he stay at all; with someone who hasnât healed, whoâd pulled him underwater, too?
Yet, you didnât say any of this. You sighed; leaned into him. Took residency in his heart, cried into him.
He kissed you for another second, and then backed away. Wiped your tears. You broke and broke until your voice broke, too, giving way to quiet sobs.
You werenât used to attention. You werenât used to someone noticing.
And somehow, the realisation hurt anew, deep in your core and beyond.
Your tears had mostly dried when he resumed his position, sitting in front of you. His fingers were entangled and he waited.
Yoongi knew youâd cry again, though. The patientâs couch had some magic to it, his mother always said. Theyâd always cry, but theyâd heal at the same time. Recognise hidden parts of themselves.
He was uncomplaining and composed, and kept looking at you until you said, âIt just feels⌠like Iâll never be enough. I can do as much as possible, but none of it is ever seen because Iâm taken for granted.â
âWho takes you for granted?â
âEveryone. Iâve spent many nights awake for people, and they abandoned me. In a crowd, others will always be praised for one thing and Iâll be ignored for the same. Itâs made me bitter.â
He nodded in true therapist fashion, but his expression wasnât as neutral as one; he looked pain-struck for you. Said, âYouâve been hurt⌠I see thatâŚâ
âIâm⌠hurting,â you corrected, âand I donât know what to do.â
Yoongi attempted a different approach; you were in a hopeless spiral, and the strategy he needed to try wasnât just to dig out your trauma, but to make you familiar with the good parts of your life, too.
So he asked, sincerely hoping you had an answer to his question, âWho could you trust as you grew up?â
âI donât knowâŚâ Yoongiâs chest deflated, motivation dropping â that is, until you muttered, âMy brother.â
âParents?â
âPart of the problem.â
Okay; your answers came more rapidly now. He took it as a good sign; as readiness to talk.
âWhereâs your brother?â he wondered.
âIn this town,â you answered, and Yoongi sighed in relief. âBut I canât bother him with all of my shit.â
Your symptoms were as typical as they could be; you regarded your self-worth as buried deep under the ground, never wanting to disturb those who still deemed you close and loved. Youâd established this distance between you and the others; he didnât blame you.
The symptoms were typical.
âWhy do you think so?â Yoongi prodded, whispering your name when you didnât answer.
âIâve bothered them all enoughâŚâ
âHow so?â
Maybe he was doing too much. But it seemed you were on board with it; you werenât complaining, not sighing, not withdrawing. You were listening and talking. Nobody let you talk, and now that you were, you looked like you needed to let it out.
You spat, âBecause they never seemed to want to hear anything.â
GodâŚ
It hurt to see you like this. Damp eyes, a heavily rising chest, as if you were close to panicking again, but desperately holding back. He knew it; he saw it in the way you drew your breaths and in the things you said.
He knew youâd braved multiple nights and many, many sleepless hours before, spending these dark moments clutching your chest, trying to get rid of the unbearably tight feeling in your chest.
He knew that torturous pressure. Heâd been there before. The persistent feeling of fear and unease â like somebody had dropped a weight onto his ribcage and tied up his stomach. The shallow breathing and thumping heart would strip him off focus.
Thoughts circling and circling, around each other; absolute bullshit most of the time.
He couldnât imagine how overwhelmed you felt, but then again, he could. Was the world louder to you, too? The way it used to be for him. Did you hear that constant screaming in your head?
Vulnerable, senses heightened, sensitive to the slightest change.
He hated the thought of a wall between you and your peace. Hated hearing the words you narrated; of your home, of your childhood, of the people you met. The disrespect you suffered and the dirt you were treated as.
You deserved none of it.
Maybe he felt that way because nobody ever deserved it; or maybe because he knew heâd fallen in love with you. Not because he needed to save you, or because he felt like falling for someone who heâd have to fix could be a welcoming challenge.
He knew people who treated depression like this; saviour complex in full effect, they needed to be the hero or heroine to stitch a broken heart.
No â he fell for you because you were you. Despite everything and every pain you endured, you were still you; and most of the you that you were before you got hurt this badly was still there, under the surface.
He saw those joyful parts of you reemerge sometimes, breaking through the waves. Sometimes, right before your head would fall again; your body weightless; drowning â he saw those parts on those days for a split moment.
But not right now.
In fact, the true parts of you that knew to feel happiness were absent now, and he knew â in that sense, he was prepared for you to utter what you said next. Was ready to hear it, no matter how little he actually wanted to hear it.
âAnd sometimes, when it got too muchâŚâ You gulped. Yoongi knew what youâd say; he knew. Butâ âI didnât feel like being here anymore. It seems that was the only and last time I opened my familyâs eyes.â
But when you still said it, it stabbed his heart like a dagger.
âOnly, after that⌠it soon became irrelevant again,â you continued, âthey told me I should be thankful for being alive and regret the mistake I made⌠what I tried.â
And you spoke on. Spoke on and on. He leaned back, allowing himself a better position to breathe. His heart felt like a sewing pin cushion, riddled with tiny holes. His eyebrows furrowed in agony, but he saw worse pain in your eyes.
Tears slowly reappeared.
âAnd when I was judged for this, too⌠I realised I didnât regret ever trying to leave the world. I regretted that Iâd failed to do so.â
Maybe he felt that way because nobody deserved it; maybe because he knew heâd fallen in love with you.
But your words split him in a million tiny shards, like glass, until his pieces became tiny enough to resemble dust.
âAm a burden⌠Am fucking burdening youâŚâ
Yoongiâs voice defeats the others in your head just barely; as if youâre separated by a glass wall and hearing him from afar, only clearing when you hammer through it and break the surface. Heâs quiet compared to your cries, a hand firmly on your back.
His grip around you wants to glue you together so desperately; heâs not letting go, even though you get restless soon, quivering and ruining his shirt.
âHey, babyâŚâ you hear him say, but you interrupt, obstinately shaking your head.
âNo⌠Iâmâ I never shouldâve let you this close andââ
âNo.â Itâs his turn to interject. And he does it with determination; tone suddenly so low, cold, so you silence. âStop.â
You do, only now noticing that heâs imprisoning your wrists in his grasp. Not painfully, but still solidly enough for you to understand what he means. You confirm it for yourself when you look up.
You already know your eyes are bloodshot, cheeks thoroughly wet; but you still recognise the heavy breaths he draws. See something entirely different in his eyes than yours.
Pain.
You hurt him. And this time, you could once again lament your destructive behaviour, argue how you keep inflicting these shit ass feelings on him. ButâŚ
The ache in his expressions says something else entirely. Fills you with hope, fills you with guilt.
Shows you that he despises the thought of you possibly regretting this relationship. His gaze proves that he doesnât. That if he could go back in time and meet you again, talk to you again, fall in love with you again â he would.
You know it because heâs said it before. You know.
But your brain is half melting, hurting, spitting all negative assumptions at you like nobodyâs business.
âIâm⌠Iâm sorry,â you stammer, pierced by the sorrow in his eyes.
âWhat?â
âI⌠shouldnât have said that,â you start, gulping. Your crying ebbs down for a second as you register the growing agony in his heart, and you explain, âYouâre the best thing that has ever happened to me, but I canât stop thinking thatâŚâ
Break in conversation.
Then him again, ââŚThat?â
âThat youâd be better off without me. That youâre here so I stay alive and that youâd be less burdened with someone elseâŚâ
Another pause.Â
He stares at you, as if pondering his answer. Bites into his lower lip softly and releases it right away. Blinks, looks to your wrists, lets go of them and then whispers, âDo you want to know? What Iâm thinking, do you want to know that, too?â
ââŚWhat are you thinking?â
âThat itâs true that Iâm burdened.â
Fuck. Fuck, fuck.
The pain is searing, a burning arrow shooting through your heart. Itâs what you expected and what you feared and what still hurts so much upon hearing andâ
Are you crying again? Are you tearing up? You donât know.
Youâre not sure, but it does seem like youâre breaking once more when he shushes you carefully, touching your cheek. He calms you, and then speaks againâ
âOf course Iâm burdened, too. Yeah, of course. Iâd be lying if I said seeing you like this doesnât make me feel helpless⌠but do you know what it means that Iâm still here?â
Your voice trembles when you speak, âBecause youâre scared of leaving me in this condition.â
âNo. I learned early enough to prioritise myself when I need to. No, Iâm not leaving because I donât want to â simple. Because Iâll share your, mine and the worldâs damn pain along with my heart. âKay?â
Retrospectively, his words sound logical. He said itâs simple, and in some way, it is. If you didnât have the brain that you have, it would be. If you werenât so neck-deep in the quicksand pulling you into doubts, youâd be less surprised at the finality in his tone.
âBabyââ you start, but he squeezes your hand, eyes glistening.
âWe have enough enemies in this world. Donât regard me as one, too. Okay? PleaseâŚâ
âNo, youâre not,â you defend, moving your head and the palm on your cheek along with it, âyouâre anything but that.â
He nods, sniffling; you know heâs holding back the same salty, pouring liquid as you. Heâs always done that, providing a sense of strength and safety to make you feel just that.
âWeâll be okay one day, love. The world hurts us a shit ton, and life is difficult, butâŚâ His voice cracks here, and he waits to regain control, sighing. âWe only get one of it and⌠itâd be so unfair if we were destined to stay like this, right?â
You donât believe in divine beliefs that seemingly predetermine how your life plays out. Fate or destiny or whatever synonyms to notions that Jung or Freud believed in. Youâve heard of this stuff plenty in your studies, but it never affected your curiosity much.
You know Yoongi isnât necessarily a representative of it either; not one to dive too deep into things that suggest the potential absence of a free will.
But the thought provides hope when nothing else does. You know. The fact that you canât leave this world without fixing things; that youâre here to contribute to much larger and more important things.
You cannot have been born to spend your days here without the joy you deserve.
Youâve felt much of it thanks to Yoongi, but youâve had too many setbacks to call this a proper life. You donât want to end it like this. You donât want to grow old like this.
And you want to gift him the life he deserves, too.
FuckâŚ
You need to get better. You need to get better. You need to get better.
You need to help yourself. Even if it takes time; even if the non-linear process of healing irks you, stealing hope and leaving anguish in turn. And itâs as if Yoongi reads your mind when he saysâ
âItâs okay, you know? To feel that way. It takes time. It doesnât matter how much, but itâs okay to fall back and have ups and downs, as long as you donât give up. Yes?â
âI canât, I know⌠Iâ I wonât give up. I just⌠need you to be here.â Your voice is unsteady, and your heart is, too; fickle as can be. But youâd rather hang onto the aspiration right now⌠nothing else. âDonât ever leave me, okay? Iâll fix this for us, I will.â
âFor yourself first. Iâll be here, no matter what.â
ââŚI love you.â Your breathing is staggered, leftover pain still keeping the anxiety in your chest. Itâll take a while. But thereâs power in your admissions when you repeat, âI love you so much.â
You lean in carefully, and he mimes the movement, bending into your kiss. Itâs a peck, soft and gentle and encouraging, and you murmur through your sniffles, âSo, so much.â
And then you climb up, using all your strength. Half your body comes to a rest on his; the immediate proximity and warm touch evoke motivation and longing in your heart. For not only him, but every second of a possible serene future, too.
This very hope is often born and reborn at the end of your lowest lows. Itâs what pulls you up again, keeps you going each time before the next valley can swallow you. Sometimes it takes longer, sometimes not.
But you so desperately want this. Want it to work now.
You want to be okay. Want to travel and soak in the sun. Want to dance in the rain and scream from the peak of a mountain; want to snorkel in clear, blue seas.
The life you picture for yourself, the one you follow in those healing vlogs on social media â itâs what you yearn for. Itâs what you want to feel. With him on your side.
Sometime in the future, you see yourself beaming in genuine happiness, see yourself smiling. And you want to work towards it. Youâve always wanted to.
Ever since Yoongi first showed you what love, contentment and merriment felt like, youâve craved this. Ever since that night he told you he loved you, despite everything.
Despite, despite, despite.
He was there to catch your fall when you couldnât keep yourself upright anymore. When your knees weakened and the ground turned into clouds, and you plunged through them and towards the cemented earth thatâd shatter you.
He aided you in staying whole. Let you lean against his shoulder, nodding off into a slumber there, allowing you to dream because until then, you didnât dare to.
You thought dreaming was pointless; just a fabrication of the unconscious mind to distract you from the horrors of the world. To keep you occupied, to torture you even when asleep. As time passed, you started making these horrors your life, and the line between reality and fantasy thinned.
UntilâŚ
Until he turned those nightmares into daydreams. Blossoming, vibrant colours appeared where youâd perceived greys before. Somehow, you fell apart a lot less when Yoongi spent his time with you, taught you to love again.
You became less terrified by dreams then, because the content changed. And whenever you werenât dreaming, away from sleep, you experienced the utopia youâd always sought.
The day Yoongi first told you he loved you, youâd long defeated the semester youâd so worried about; started and survived the one after; and were now already tackling your very last one.
Even after all these months, you never let him forget how grateful you were for passing the last summer semester eventually, and in return, he never let you forget that heâd stay even after.
You didnât study all the time anymore either; now, your afternoons and nights were filled with gentle words, promising embraces, lips against lips. It took some time to truly open up. To stop feeling like you were making a mistake.
âDoing yourself to him,â you called it, as if you were about to hurl him into his very own mistake.
Even then, you wanted to get better for him; you knew it hadnât and wouldnât happen overnight. All of it was much easier said than done; healing sounds so doable for those who attempt to support those who need it, yet they cannot grasp the meaning of a broken heart and scared mind.
But there was something so wonderful about the simplicity between Yoongi and you. So simple that it called forth feelings so complex.Â
They were tough to navigate, but never tough to admit.
That March night, the sentiments roamed your body the clearest, even though the skies were anything but that. The thunder sounded like the universe had cracked; the white and silver of the striking lightning illuminated your room.
It was the night you felt hope in all its glory, for the very first time in years.
âYou keep hiding from me,â Yoongi said, legs crossed like yours, sitting vis-a-vis.
He was close enough for your knees to collide, and when they did for the umpteenth time, he put a careful hand on your fingers resting on your thigh. You didnât protest, so he didnât withdraw.
âIâm not hiding from you. I justâŚâ you stalled, âI just want you to be sure.â
âAbout you?â
If it had been this easy, you wouldnât have asked. Because you knew the answer to this. Yoongi didnât need to explain it to you; he was already certain about you to an indisputable degree.
You shook your head. Elaborated, âAbout everything. I donât just come with the few good times we had the last couple of weeks. I come with⌠everything Iâve ever experienced and that shaped me into this.â You gestured over yourself. âYouâd notice soon.â
âI already do.â
His answers and arguments came promptly, as if he knew the script to this talk and had already thought out every response heâd be giving. This was so effortless to him; thinking about it today, you wouldnât even have needed to say a word.
But it was important to you. You couldnât permit him to grow this attached without making sure.
âYou just take it, do you? All that I am,â you concluded delicately; wanting to inform him, but so terrified of scaring him away. âBut if you fall for me, then youâre committing. And I want you to think about it because I donâtâ I donât want to ruin your life.â
When he spoke again, he seemed to finally deviate from the script he knew; because confused, he asked, âIf?â
âWhat?â
âWhat do you mean, if I fall for you?â
Oh⌠oh.
You understood. It didnât take the tiniest of nanoseconds for you to fathom what he meant. And you couldâve sobbed right there and then, but the storm distracted you a little; the thunder was growling, threatening to explode again.
Somehow, the chaos outside kept you at bay. But only for so long.
ââŚYoongi.â
His fingers moved from yours to your entire palm, taking it in his with a whisper of your name. Then, he clarified, âThe possibility of something happening is redundant if itâs already happened, you know? And IâmâŚâ
You held your breath, but at the same time, you were nearly panting. Maybe one first, then the other? You canât remember anymore. You felt dizzy. Teary-eyed and joyful at once when you saw him at a loss of words.
âYouâre?â you encouraged.
âIâm just so⌠feet deep underwater and in love with you that you couldnât stop me if you wanted to.â
âIââ
âI love you. You know I do.â
Fuck⌠fuck, you knew.
Of course you knew.
Your heart was vile at times, cooperating with this demon of a brain and feeding you wrong information. But this, you knew. You fought through the congested mess of thoughts and admitted this to yourself every day.
Isnât this why you were having this conversation in the first place?
But to hear him say itâŚ
I love you.
You know I do.
âEven if you try to deny it,â he continued, âyou know I love you and that Iâll keep doing it.â
This is when your waterline gave up; lined with the liquid youâd always held back. But why? There was no reason to. You felt at peace; Yoongi knew your heart. There was no use in keeping you closed off anymore.
So you cried. Let the first tear roll that he caught with his hand, holding your face so firmly that you thought it was the only thing keeping your head upright. Optimistic.
âThereâs⌠thereâs a chance that I start doubting you,â you contended for whatever stupid reason, sniffling, âthat I doubt myself and then regret pulling you down with me andâ thereâs a chance I forget that youâll keep loving me, no matter what, you knowââ
âIâll keep reminding you.â
âIâm a handful.â
âMy hands are big enough, baby.â
The endearment didnât slip past you, but instead made your beating organ swell. You donât think youâd ever heard your pulse pounding in your eardrums this loudly. And he kept inching closer; his forehead nearly touched yours until it did.
âCan you love me even if I fall, Yoongi?â
âIâll pick you up. You know that.â
ââŚWhat if you feel like youâre not good enough?â
Stop asking questions. Stop stop stop.
But he kept answering.
âRemember what you told me a couple days ago?â Yoongi asked, his voice quiet, drowning in the storm. âThat itâd been long since youâd felt happy like this.â
âI do right now⌠I justâŚâ
âYeah, and Iâ I think. If Iâm able to stay by your side and make you smile anyhow? Then I think this⌠we⌠are good enough.â
Thatâs it. Your throat was dry, your mind out of questions. You could renounce doubts if he didnât have any either. He seemed convinced enough; so you admitted your own convictions to him, too.
âIâm⌠I love you, too. I love you, I fucking do.â
Your last word was cut, merely a breath. Swallowed when you leaned in and kissed him, pulling him back with you onto the bed. Yoongi landed on top of you, draping the two of you under the thin, floral blanket.
The early spring rain tapped your window softly before the gentle noise turned into more aggressive knocking and hammering. This very storm theyâd announced was the reason Yoongi had stayed tonight.
Thatâs what heâd told you at least; in truth, it was an excuse.
Before today, you rarely spent your nights together.
Whenever you did, he allowed you your space in order to not overwhelm you. He knew you were cautious, slow, took your time to trust. Heâd sleep on the couch or crawl back to you when you approached him in the dead of the night.
Touching his elbow gently, shaking him awake, telling him so sweetly that it drove him insane, âI donât want to be alone.â
So heâd cuddle in when you sought out his arms, dozing so peacefully. It delighted him because whenever he didnât slumber next to you, heâd hear you from the other room. Woefully moaning in your sleep, as if crying, turning.
He never saw or heard any of that when you leaned into his embrace, held onto his shirt. Never did anything more than sleep; he was content with that.
But tonight was different, less chaste than that â and he was content with that, too.Â
You said youâd wanted to talk. And you had. Youâd trembled through the conversation, heart combusting in your chest like it wasnât part of you anymore, that treacherous thing with its own, stupid will.
But it thumped differently now when he kissed you like this. You felt the change so clearly when he held you, pushing you into the mattress; stripping you naked bit by bit; asking over and over again if you were okay, if he should stop.
You lived differently, too, when he pecked your bare skin, up and down, from head to toe, to and fro. His tongue explored your waist and your thighs and the wetness between your quivering legs.
And you loved differently when he immersed himself in you. Sighing and moaning against you as his tongue lapped you up. You felt the chills everywhere. Felt your shoulders rise, your hand in his long hair, the oxygen running out.
Youâd nearly forgotten how such a moment felt â then again, youâd never experienced it like this before. You could barely breathe, and for the first time, you loved it. For the first time, it wasnât your usual reason.
But the picture of the man over you pumping himself, covering his cock in the condom youâd bought weeks ago, just in case. Back when he started hanging around at your place. He was surprised about your preparation; was delighted about it, too.
And God⌠God, when he kissed you, sheathing himself in you, every inch connected with every piece of you. Souls and hearts and bodies merging. Moving in and out slowly, then a little quicker, cradling your face and kissing your neck.
Between all that, he kept asking if you were doing okay, and you said youâd never felt better. And the best part was that you fucking meant it and thatâs when you knewâ
That Yoongi warmed your coldest, most frigid spots. Helped you find a sense of heat that youâd long forgotten, that not even summer could ever bring back. The spring was right inside you, in the middle of your chest despite the rain.
But at the same time, somewhere next to it, he was there, too, becoming the storm that raged outside.
All at once, you remembered again. Even if you might forget in your worst times; even if heâd really need to remind you again.
You remembered that you could be loved, and that you were deserving of love.
You remembered that love towards somebody is often subjective and itâs not entirely up to you who feels it for you, and that only because somebody else was unable to give it to you the right way⌠it doesnât mean everyone would act the same.
Yoongi was the spring and the storm; the rainbow you saw the next morning as the sky cleared.
Your mother used to struggle with migraines. Back then, youâd see her tied to the bed for half a day, struggling to get up, sleeping for a couple hours after swallowing her sumatriptan.
The evening or the morning after, youâd ask her how she was doing, and sheâd say the headache was gone, but that some of the pressure still lingered. Sheâd feel it in the heaviness of her head, like it was falling against her clavicles.
Back then, you were too young to understand; you still donât suffer migraines, knock on wood. But you somehow get what she meant â you guess the same applies to any other part of your body.
Like the soul.
They say a body becomes lighter after death since the soul leaves; and the morning after bawling in Yoongiâs arms, you feel the opposite. Like your grief makes you weigh more than during your good days.
Like youâre heavier than a month ago, without gaining a single kilogram.
But at least that means youâre alive. A soul intact.
And, just like your motherâs medicine, the night alleviated at least some of your pain. Maybe it was the conversation with Yoongi. Maybe the reassurance that he didnât perceive you as the task you thought you might be.
Many years ago, you refused to seek help in others; be it loved ones, a partner or a therapist. Yoongi taught you to own who you were and to admit the problems you faced; that they were as valid as anything else.
Living with him and loving him this profoundly showed you that itâs okay to confide in someone. That someone will care. But it also taught you that ultimately, nobody is responsible for your well-being as much as you are.
That to heal, you need to accept yourself. That to accept yourself, you need to acknowledge the issues you face.
And for that, you need to be ready to combat your demons, understand that they can be fought.
Youâve always known that. In that sense, it isnât true that youâre fully dependent on Yoongi. You know deep down that youâll be the one pulling you out of this.
ButâŚ
Itâs never bad for someone to initiate that thought process, is it? Even when itâs you emerging from the grave you dug for yourself; itâs okay to grab the hand as the earth breaks, pulling you out of the dirt and darkness.
Yoongi is the rope helping you out; but youâre the one to walk on once the endless well ends and you spot the daylight. You can rely on him. You can rely on yourself.
Youâll be okay⌠youâll be okay.
âReady?â Yoongi asks as you slip into your shoes. You look up, and nod, your smile soft. âJust a few more days, right?â
Right.Â
Youâll live day by day. Survive the hours, strive towards a better future. Count your blessings, find things to look forward to. Itâs alright to fall sometimes, and whenever you do, youâll remember youâre not alone.
That youâll get up eventually. You hold onto this.
And onto those few last days until vacation calls. You booked it so long ago; it can be that one thing to grasp, to look forward to, right?
And⌠you laugh. Because you remember Yoongi telling you to get your nails done, that heâd even go with you. âBut do not forget, because blue suits Greece and Iâd love to see the colour on you.â
You act like you donât know what his plea means. You act like you donât know how much he loves you. How this very approaching plan of his proves that he couldnât even let go of you if you gave him another reason to.
Isnât this enough to understand that he never feels guilty of loving you?
Why are you so afraidâŚ
Because.
Yoongi never viewed your pain as something you had control over or something you caused; whoever hurt you is at fault, not you. And Yoongi knows that; knows that you matter, with your past and present and future, however cruel they might be.
But despite the fact that your past made you who you are, and that your future will determine how youâll further turn out to be, Yoongi always preaches to focus on the controllable.
We wonât ever be able to manage the future entirely; maybe you wonât even ever be faced with the fears you harbour, you know? The past is the past, the present is the present and the future is the future. They will torment us if we put too much meaning in them.
I know itâs hard. But itâll be alright. One day, it will be â youâre okay.
It has to beâŚ
Youâll be okay. Youâre okay.
The weather might change at warp speed â but soon, itâll be sunny again.
i know i said it's okay if you skip this one, but if you're reading this, you might not have, and i'm thankful for that <3 i needed these feelings out of my system, so it felt very cathartic to me. maybe it helped you a little, too? i hope so, at least â things will be okay đ¤
what do you think? since you're here, i'd love to know how you feel about this piece đ
#yoongi angst#yoongi fluff#yoongi smut#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#bts fluff#bts angst#bts smut#yoongi fics#myg smut
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*:シďžâ§*:シďžâ§ safety net; t.f.
synopsis: when toji decided to be a good man and rescue two puppies for his son... content: canon divergence (I want a happy story for the fushiguro's!), fem!reader, reader is mamaguro, in this world your last name is fushiguro and toji took it bc f*ck the zenin, megumi is ur son (he's just a baby!), domestic bliss, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: seeing how successful my gojo anthology series is going (only two parts but going strong), I wanted to do one for toji bc I've always wanted to write his story with mamaguro (aka you!) and do a bunch of one shots that can be read as stand alones or together! pls lmk if you want more and if u wanna be tagged in the future <3 p.s. the divine dogs are actual dogs that inspired megumi's later manifestation of his shikigami in this au
It was one of those late nights for Toji. A summer evening with a heavy downpour to blur his path before him. The windshields were moving as fast as they could, swiftly clearing his vision with every wipe across the glass. He was quite used to this, running around town in the wee hours of the night, nothing new to him. It just annoyed him how difficult it could be driving in the rain when his windows fogged up and the headlights could only do so much.Â
He wasn't too far from home, running a quick errand before returning to his abode, wanting nothing more than the warmth of his bed.Â
A bed... A home...
Toji couldn't help but sigh and lean his head back against the car's headrest. Had this all been a dream? Was it real? Him, Zenin Toji, living a normal life? It had been quite some time now where he left it all behind to be domesticatedâas if he were a wild animal. He didn't mind, though, a part of him was begging for a simple kind of life.Â
Sat at a red light as his pointer finger tapped away against the leather steering wheel, his eyes wandered the environment around himâwell, as much as he could see during an evening shower. From building to building, the empty sidewalks and dim storefronts, his eyes suddenly bounced back to a bus stop. Squinting, he leaned in before turning on his blinkers.Â
This was very unlike him, his curiosity getting the best of him... Maybe it was because he was a changed man. Maybe it was because he had someone to go home to. Someone who made his deflated heart triple in size; someond who made him care about little things that he never did before.
Pulling over and parking his car next to the bus stop, Toji pulled up his hoodie and reached for the small umbrella that sat on the floor of the passenger seat. Rushing out and popping open the coverage, he stood before a small, cardboard box.Â
It was falling apart, the rain tearing at the flimsy material as the little towel beneath was completely drenched. Hearing the faint whimpers and cries of the tiny creatures that stared up at him, Toji took in a sharp breath and shook his head. He was a good man now. Better than he ever was before. He had a heart. He had a home. He had someone who loved him. These little bodies did not.Â
Lifting the box, he quickly maneuvered it underneath the umbrella before carefully placing it in the backseat of his car. "I hope she won't mind..." he said before making his way to the front, closing the umbrella and shutting the door after, resuming his route.Â
The drive home was quicker this time around, zooming to gather the bags and box he had within the car, shutting the doors and locking them behind him before he made his way towards the front door. Taking the steps and fumbling with his keys, he unlocked the door and slipped inside before kicking off his shoes and making his way towards the living room.Â
Settling the box down before moving towards the kitchen with the bag, he washed his hands and emptied the contents within it. Pulling out the small device, Toji made his way upstairs, ruffling his dark hair as he pressed a few buttons on the gadget. "Babe, this one should be fine," he spoke as he approached one of the two bedrooms.Â
"Oh, good," the voice responded as he entered the room. You were sitting on your son's rocking chair, holding him close to your chest as you caressed his little back. He was about six months old and the constant change in weather was getting to him, causing a slight cold to disrupt his immunity. It pained both of you to see your boy anything but happy and healthy... but, he was such a little trooper. Both of you weren't sure where he got his calmness from, seeing as you nor Toji were such a way, but you thanked the heavens for blessing you with a child like him.Â
"How's Megs doin'?" Toji asked as he handed you the new thermometer, squatting and gently caressing his son's head. His hand practically engulfed it, always entertaining him how tiny his boy was. It brought a small smile to his face. "Doesn't seem so fussy."
"A bit better, I got him to fall asleep. You weren't gone for too long, thankfully," you sweetly smiled, settling the small device down before caressing Toji's face. "Raining hard, huh?"
"Yeah," he nodded, only to widen his eyes.Â
"What is it?" You furrowed your eyebrows.Â
Scratching the back of his head, Toji stood up. "Got a surprise along the way... hope you don't mind."
"What do you mean?" You tilted your head.Â
"Let's go downstairs," he nudged his own, waving you to follow him.Â
Standing up carefully as to not wake your baby boy, you followed your man down the hall and staircase, towards your living room. You were confused at first, unsure as to what surprise he could've gotten you. But then you heard it. The faint cries and rustling coming from a box. The box in front of you. "Toji..."
"You've changed me, y'know?" He said. "I wouldn't have cared back then, would've left them suffer... but, guess it's because I'm a father now and I have you... I couldn't let them die out there..." rubbing the back of his neck as he stood by the box, you curiously peeked over before gasping. "Thought it would be nice to keep 'em... give Megs something to grow with."
"Toji... there's two," you nearly whispered, eyeing the puppies. One in pure white and one in all black, both equally precious. Tiny, scared, cold... you couldn't deny them either, even if you were currently raising your own baby.Â
"Yeah..." Toji sighed. "I was thinkin' about giving them a quick bath now and take them to the vet early tomorrow. Don't have much to feed them but we can make it work, right?" He said, keeping his eyes on them, a bit afraid of your reaction.Â
As upset as you should've been, seeing as it was two more mouths to feed, instead, you felt... elated? You weren't sure why, maybe it was because you were seeing more and more sides of Toji you didn't think would exist. Or maybe you loved the idea of giving your son two furry best friends to grow with. It could've also been that you were just happy that your son was okay and getting through his cold that you couldn't be as bothered.Â
It also didn't help that you may or may not have mentioned a few times (while taking your strolls during your pregnancy) that your little blessing should have some furry friends around. You just didn't think it would happen... this way.Â
"So?" Toji asked, looking at you with timid eyes. "Can we keep 'em?"
"Toji," you chuckled. "I'm not going to abandon these poor babies. You brought them here, you're gonna have to do a lot of raising. You're now a father of three," you teased as he nodded.Â
"I'm well aware."
"I'm surprised you're okay with this, let alone, brought them," you pointed out.Â
Shrugging, he looked back down. "Like I said, it's cause you changed me and I'm a father now. As scary as that is... I dunno... guess I want that normal life and normal people have dogs, right?" Seeing you nod with a small smile, Toji couldn't help but reflect your facial expression. "I wanna give him everything I've never had," he nudged his head in Megumi's direction.Â
"Such a good dad," you softly spoke, caressing your sons back before stepping closer and kissing Toji's arm. "Then I guess we have two puppies now. What should we name them?"
Eyeing the two, Toji hummed. "Kuro and Shiro."
#harunovella writes;#fushiguro toji#zenin toji#toji fushiguro#toji zenin#toji x reader#jjk toji#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x you#toji x y/n#toji fushiguro x y/n#toji fushiguro x you#fushiguro toji x y/n#fushiguro toji x you#reader insert#fem reader#toji x female reader#toji fluff#jjk x you#jjk au#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk x y/n
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the language of love isn't dead â dean winchester
cw : gn!reader, fluff, frenemies to lovers, petty arguments, ft. sam!, dean is annoying obviously <3, reader speaks latin (i used google translate and it is probably very wrong lol), kissing, one mention of a sexual innuendo, a few joking death threats, non-serious mentions of choking, poorly edited, 2.4K words. requested !
summary : you tend to compliment dean in the dead language of latin after fights so that he doesn't know what you really think about him.
MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!
âyouâre being ridiculous,â you frown at dean, arms crossed against your chest as you stare him down in tonightâs motel room.
âridiculous?â he parrots, indignant. âthis is baby weâre talking about. my car. you know, the â67 black chevy impala i would kill a man over?â
âyeah, i know her,â you reply, sarcastic in tone. âand your homicidal tendencies when it comes to her. iâm very familiar, dean.â you roll your eyes at him because you just canât help it. dean makes it very easy to get annoyed at, for a multitude of reasons.
reason number one, heâs annoying. reason number two, heâs very hot when heâs angry. reason number three, heâs very hot pretty much all the time. it does not help that sam got first dibs on the shower, so heâs still covered in a bit of grime and blood from the hunt you just walked away from. itâs his best look, aside from any time that he smiles.
âwell, then you should know that getting her perfectly tended to and polished leather seats dirty with wendyâs barbecue sauce is like a goddamn felony and i should sentence you to life of never even stepping foot near my car again,â he fires back, and if you didnât know him well, which you do, youâd venture to guess that heâs joking. heâs not.
you groan in frustration. âfor the last time, i did not get barbecue sauce on your car seats,â you insist.
âi saw you sneaking fries before we got to the room,â he counters, narrowing his eyes at you. âyou could have gotten grease on the leather too.â
âi ate two fries dean, and i was careful. i used a napkin and i did not open my barbecue sauce!â you spit back at him. you canât believe youâre arguing about this right now. except that it is so believable and so like you and him. itâs not like either one of you is going to back down, certainly not about something so petty and meaningless.
âthen how come i found some in the back seat?â he says for what feels like the millionth time.
you throw your hands up in the air. âi donât know! i donât even use my barbecue sauce for my fries. thereâs no reason for me to have opened it!â you argue, huffing out a frustrated sigh. âand how do you even know it was barbecue sauce?â
âit looked like barbecue sauce, it wasnât there yesterday, youâre the only one who orders it and the only one whoâs sat in the back since then. therefore, barbecue sauce,â he admonishes, crossing his arms over his chest to punctuate his point. you canât help but laugh at him a little bit. he just sounds so ridiculous.
âwell then, letâs say it was barbecue sauceâwhich it wasnât. did the leather get damaged?â you ask pointedly.
âthat doesnât matter!â he practically rages, taking a step towards you. god, heâs beautiful and you hate him for it (you really, really love him for it). âwhat matters is that you got it dirty!â
âjesus, dean! just drop it, your car is fine!â you chastise, your voice raising a little in volume as you take another step towards him. you can see his light freckles better now. theyâre so goddamn pretty it makes you want to choke him.
âjust drop it?â he repeats, fuming. âi will not âjust drop it.â this is about baby. i canât âjust dropâ something about baby! how can i even trust you enough to let you in my car again, huh?â this is the point where heâs serious, but not that serious. thereâs clear frustration and anger in his voice, but heâs stuck with you and he knows it. and when he asks that final question, his volume lessens and he shrugs. heâs looking for you to grovel or offer something to appease him. the question is whether or not to give him that. your instinct is, of course, to not. you let out a huff of breath.
âwell, maybe because iâm excellent company in the car,â you suggest, a gloating tone making its way into your voice. âand i like your music better than sam does. which means we always outnumber him. thatâs very important.â
heâs unimpressed, clearly. âyou gotta come up with something better than that, sweetheart,â he goads.
you curl your lip at him and roll your eyes. âyou absolutely suck, dean,â you state. he raises his eyebrows and you groan and roll your eyes yet again. thatâs not the word to use around him unless you want a sexual innuendo thrown in your face. âyou are absolutely horrible, dean,â you amend.
he laughs at you and his annoyance mostly subsides. âwhich means i have no problem getting back at you tenfold for getting goddamn barbecue sauce on my car seat.â
âte respicere bonum cum iratus es, ita dampnas,â you grumble, shaking your head and glaring at him. like tradition, you end the argument with a certain latin phrase full of choice words.Â
now dean, sweet, lovely, silly, gorgeous dean, has no idea what youâre saying. he doesnât care to learn enough latin for that. he doesnât need to know, he thinks. your tone of voice says it all. he thinks those choice words are the type that one fills an insult with. today you tell him, âyou look so damn good when youâre angry.â which, funnily enough, is not an insult.
itâs the perfect way of looking him in the eye and just spitting it out. you get to say without consequence what youâre thinking, what youâre feeling, what you want to tell him so badly. itâs not the same as him knowing, but it helps. it eases your tension until the next time, it softens the blow a little.
sam fails to hold in his laugh behind you. you whirl around and glare at him, freshly dressed and out of the shower. you hadnât even heard him leave the bathroom. narrowing your eyes at him, you tell your long time best friend, say something and you die. he puts his hands up in surrender, still laughing at you a little.
âshut up,â you grumble, then turn back to dean with a scowl.
âwhat was that little nerd exchange?â dean teases, realizing sam understood what you said.
ânothing,â you glower. âiâm showering now!âÂ
dean throws his hands up in protest. âyouâre making me shower last after getting barbecue sauce on my car?â
âdean, i swear to the lord in heaven, if youââ
âfine, fine!â he relents, the sarcasm and teasing still clearly present in his voice. âyouâre right, you should shower first, you probably have barbecue sauce all over ya.â you raise your fist in a threat and itâs deanâs turn to put his hands up in surrender. âiâm just saying!â
âstop saying!â you groan. âjustâ stop talking, iâm gonna lose my mind.â if i have to stare at your gorgeous face and listen to your gorgeous voice for another second i will go crazy. you sigh heavily. god, you wonder if you could survive not kissing him. monsters and demons and all the strange shit in the world⌠thatâs fine. it sucks but, jesus, at least you know how to deal with them.
but doing it all with dean? you have no idea how to deal with that. so far, itâs by arguing with him, complimenting him in a dead language, and keeping him at an armâs length. and so far, itâs not working out too well, because you still want him. you still want him to want you back. you still wish and wish and wish that the language of love isnât dead, not for you and him, not yet, at least.
maybe the shower will help. this motel doesnât have the worst showers; the water pressure is decent and the water stays hot for a while longer than some others.
youâre not annoyed when you finish, at least, not about his stupid accusations of you getting condiments on his car seats. unfortunately, you are still annoyed about how attracted you are to him. even more unfortunate, you suppose, is that youâre attracted to him, period.
you sigh because you canât bring yourself to actually try not to be. not that anyone can reverse feelings, but you let your feelings run rampant, more than you should sometimes. you let him eat away at your heart like a goddman movie zombie thatâs too stupid to remember it eats brains. then, you figure that the thought of him eats away at your brain too, because he messes with your rationality sometimes.
his eyes are on you as you leave the bathroom and you wonder if samâs tattled on you. when you shoot him a look he shrugs and shakes his head. youâre not convinced, but you let it slide. you plop down on the pullout couch bed and pack your old clothes away, ignoring deanâs heavy gaze. only when the door to the bathroom opens and closes do you flop against the bed with a heaving sigh.
âi hate your brother,â you grumble, barely loud enough for sam to hear as the muffled sounds of the shower turning on hits your ears. you turn to your side and curl up, not even bothering to pull the sheet over yourself.
you canât see sam, but you hear him scoff from his spot on his own bed. âsure you do,â he quips, completely sarcastic.
âno, i really, really do,â you insist, not meaning a word of it.
âwell, he hates you too, then,â he answers, voice heavy with implication. you know what he means because he knows what you mean. hate, of course, is love.
âno, he doesnât,â you counter, sad about it. you bet that no oneâs ever sounded so disappointed that someone doesnât âhateâ them.
âyouâre hopeless.â samâs probably shaking his head at you as he reads the words on the book in his lap.
âiâm hopeless,â you sigh.
â˘â˘â˘
itâs not until a few days later that dean confronts you about your little latin digs at him. sam did tattle, only because heâs tired of your pining, but dean wonât tell you that. heâs smart enough to know youâll end up with your hands around samâs neck if you end up finding out, and heâs not trying to have his⌠person strangle his little brother.
âhey, idiot,â he starts, the word layered with affection. âwhy do you always insult me in latin? sorta feels like you lose the point of insulting someone to their face like that.âÂ
heâs leaning against the hood of his car, beer in hand like always. itâs oddly uncommon to find yourself like this; outside, alone with him. the motelâs not busy and there are barely any other cars in the parking lot, and even less people. itâs just you and him as far as you can see. the night air is mild, cicadas singing as summer begins to slip away.
âwell⌠maybe the point is that you know iâm saying something about you, but you donât know what,â you shrug, sort of proud of the smooth answer. youâre not even lying. inside, youâre panicking a bit. this is dangerous territory.
âthe stuff youâre saying is that horrible, huh?â his tone suggests a joke. his eyes suggest otherwise. it makes you pause.Â
how unfair is it, to the both of you, to lie? to even joke that youâd say such mean things about him? about dean winchester, whom you know sort of hates himself. who has just two people by his side, you and sam.
and you, who only argues with him because itâs easier than being nice. you, who deserves what you want but wonât let yourself even try to have it.
âno,â you sigh out. âiâm not saying horrible stuff about you.â you donât look at him, you donât mess around. you take the joking in his voice and strip it away. you take the look in his eyes and put it in yours. it makes him look at you, for once. itâs easy to imagine his eyebrows raising, his lips caught somewhere between his signature smirk and a curious frown. ânot in latin, anyways,â you add, letting a huff of laughter leak into your bitter voice.
dean keeps looking at you. you know youâre supposed to explain after saying something like that, but youâd much rather not.
âno?â he asks finally. now you have to say something more.
âno,â you confirm, still staring at the trees across the street instead of him. the street lights are orange in color, and it feels either cruel or hopeful that itâs such a beautiful night. âi⌠say it in latin because itâs something nice. and you can⌠ignore this, if you want. i say it in latin because i like you a lot, dean. yâknow, more than a stupid, fucking friend.â you roll your eyes a bit, like youâre upset with yourself. then you swallow thickly and ignore the fact that you can see him in your peripheral vision. he doesnât look like he normally does. he doesnât look angry.
dean is torn between teasing you and kissing you. you sound mad about the fact that you have feelings for him, like you wish you didnât. âmore than a stupid, fucking friendâ is a real funny way to phrase things, if heâs honest with himself. the question is, does he say that to you, or does he look for something better to say? heâs not good with âbetter things to say,â whatever that might be.
âa little aggressive for a love confession, no?â his voice isnât even that teasing. itâs sort of gentle. he wants to slap his hand over his mouth for saying that godforsaken four letter word. you had said âlike.â itâs freudian slip, he supposes, since he loves you.
âthis isnât funny, dean,â you murmur, voice sort of defeated. and yet, you hear it. itâs not funny to him either. he wasnât trying to be funny, he was trying not to feel. he was trying to say at least something, because he was having trouble coming up with anything else.
âi know,â he relents. he draws in a deep breath. âwill you look at me?â your lips part, then close. you blink a few times. you turn your head and look at him. god, he loves you back. heâs got to, or thereâs no other way to explain how he looks at you.
and thereâs definitely no other way to explain him kissing you. he looks you right in the eyes and he leans in until his lips are touching yours.Â
his eyes flutter closed, yours follow. you kiss him back, he kisses harder. the language of love isnât dead. all you had to do was say something.
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester x gn!reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester#dean winchester angst#dean winchester fanfiction#supernatural fluff#dean winchester headcanon#dean winchester fic#supernatural fanfiction#dean winchester oneshot#spn fanfiction#supernatural oneshot#dean winchester scenarios#supernatural scenarios#dean winchester imagine#supernatural dean winchester#spn dean winchester#supernatural#supernatural requests#dean winchester supernatural#supernatural x reader#spn fanfic
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â¸â¸ ๨ৠ:: ellie finger fucks you after you get your nails done since theyâre too long to do yourself. âĄ
âwarnings ๨ৠ2.5k. fem!reader, lowercase intended, black coded, creaming, sub/dom, dirty talk, daddy kink, ellie smokes cigs swrry, fingering, finger sucking, kissing, bit of a bratty reader, spoiled!reader, ellie is too irritated so she gets nasty in the car, dry humping, choking, thigh spanks, praise, pet names [ baby. mamas. sweetie. princess ], established relationship. reblogs & comments are appreciated! <3
canât help but picture the way ellie would finger fuck you after paying for your nails to get done, the bubblegum pink acrylics, also stiletto shaped with white patterns of pretty shit making it difficult for you to do the deed yourself. the eye roll ellie gives you as she leans against the black vechicle behind you, puffing on a cigarette she swore sheâd quit a million times as you leave the vicinity of the salon, twiddling your dainty fingers for her to view. a cloud of smoke is blown past her plush pink lips as she gives you that knowing glare, that shape insanely disrespectful in her mind. how the fuck were you going to take care of her if she needed it? the disapproving upturned pout of your girlfriendâs lips give you that sinking feeling in your gut, knowing sheâd do that the instant she saw them. but they were so pretty, and you wanted to try something new.
âdaddy, hiiiii!â that sweet tone of yours sing as her pretty princess approaches her, smooching her freckled face. ellieâs lips reminded in a tight line, groaning as she trailed her hand down the middle of your back and to your ass thatâs nearly exposed from the wind blowing, or rather the short length of it.
âlemme see your nails,â ellie rasps, tossing her cigarette to the side as she stares down at you with an unreadable expression. scary and intimidating as usual.
you donât know why youâre so nervous, slowly raising your hands to her view for her to see clearer. a deep swallow catches her attention, eyeing your throat before bringing her tatted hands up to enclose your fingers with her. your arms rise as she lifts your hands that hold hers, ellie humming as she looks at the dozens of iridescent gems.
âcute.â
you bat your falsies. âyes? you like âem, baby?â
ellie nods only once. âletâs go get you some food. you barely ate the waffles i made this morning.â
you chose to ignore her comment, nodding your head and entering the brand new chevrolet trailblazer after she opened the door for you, it slamming unintentionally hard before ellieâs strolling to the drivers seat. you take attention to her attire today; all black, tight black tee and slightly loose jeans, her white calvin klein briefs showing as she hikes herself into the truck. always expensive smelling; like musk and vanilla. the chain youâd given her with your initial currently being frustratingly chewed at as she put extra pressure into the gas.
you keep your thighs pressed together with your hands nuzzled in between, forearms pushing your tits adorned in your baby blue tube top together, the white tennis skirt on your hips too high up, making your thighs stick to the leather seats. the humidity is high outside today, reaching over to turn the ac on. ellieâs barely paying attention to you, which means sheâs upset, her attention on you ninety-six percent of the time.
âbaby, iâve missed you all day,â you lean comfortably against the seat as you turn your head in her direction, lifting one hand to caress her jaw, leading up to the chocolate brown hair on her head, half tied up. her green eyes give you a mere glimpse, unnoticeably gripping the steering wheel tighter from the way you speak and the siren glare your eyes. fuck, youâre irresistible.
âhave you,â she mumbles, breath hitching the lower your hand trails, now smoothing over her neckline, drifting to the slim of her waist as your fingers lift her shirt, nails gently scratching her tanned skin.
ellie tries to ignore the heat building in her tummy. âall. day.â
the truck stops at a red light, ellie taking this moment to look at you, watching the way your hips seductively sway in your spot. a thick brow raises at your attempt of distracting her, more-so making her forget about what you did. sheâs not dumb.
âstop, your being a brat,â ellie says sternly, but you protest, a pout on your full lips and your eyes blown innocently. your hand drifts further down, nearing the front of her chest to feel the fabric of her sports bra to the warmth of her stomach.
âi want you,â now youâre leaning over the center console, ellieâs cheeks turning red as you skim your lips over her flushed skin, ellieâs free hand reaching over to firmly press the pads of her fingers into your soft thigh, directly near your pussy.
âwas thinkinâ about you during my hair appointment earlier, tried my very best not to cum in my seat,â your hair is pretty, the bouncy dark curls fitting the structure of your face perfectly. ellie clenches her jaw at the thought of that. âyou make me so needy.â
the swerve of the car makes you grip onto her inked drawn forearm, staring at the road cautiously as she finds somewhere secretive to park. an empty alleyway. ellie breathes out heavy air before sheâs rolling up the windows and turning up the music slightly, hold on by the internet playing soothingly. a mixture of pleasure, excitement, and nervousness paints the picture on your face, biting your lip to keep your sounds to yourself.
ellie runs her hand through her hair, leaning back in her seat she adjusts back to give you enough space to reside. ellie leans over your side to wrap her right arm around you waist, using the other to lock under your legs to pull you over the console, a squeak coming from your throat as she adjusts you on top of her, back to her chest.
âspread your fucking legs,â her breath tickles your earlobe and immediately you whimper, slick built up in your panties practically all day. you didnât care if this was a punishment or for her own satisfaction, you just wanted her to fuck you. âright now, [ ⥠].â
your name drips off of her tongue like poison, sinking your teeth into your lower lip even harder, her skin on your skin intoxicating. without another command, you disconnect your knees to open yourself up for her to access, sneaker covered feet touching the glass of the drivers window while your other leveled in the air. you feel ellieâs fingertips slug onto the middle of your thighs where the heat brews, aggressively smacking your inner thighs, as well as the outside.
you moan, breath shaking and grinding above her, head rolling back to rest on her shoulder, her touch inflaming your entire body. voice alone enough to make you cum. ellie pulls on the black material covering your pussy, patting her fingers over your clothed clit almost seeping through from your slickness. inhaling sharply from the impact, you whimper a tiny ânnn, babyâ, trying to push yourself onto her palm for added pressure. ellie grunts, hand coming around your neck to choke you and hold you still.
âtake this shit off,â ellie breathlessly whispers, snapping the material against your brown skin, the grip around your throat tightening.
you do as told, ellie placing her hands on the globes of your ass to hover you above herself while you slip off your panties, leaving them to rest at your ankles before lowering you back to sit on her lap. sheâs soaked in her briefs right now, but you couldnât tell, whining like a needy girl, only worrying about yourself. your cheeks are hot, eyes lowered erotically while you stare at your girlfriend, wanting her to hurry.
âso mad at you for those pretty ass nails,â she spanks your thigh again, your tummy caving in and your clit pulsing. âgetting that fucking shape knowing you canât fuck me for another two weeks.â
âs-sorry, daddy,â you feel yourself drip between your ass cheeks, staining her jeans.
âno youâre not, or else you wouldnât âf done it,â your stomach caves in as ellieâs palm rests on your jaw, thumb digging in your cheek as she forces you to watch yourself, study the way she strokes your puffy pussy with her fingers, spreading your arousal.
âoh my god, youâre so goddamn wet,â ellie moans keenly, jaw dropping and brows knitted together as her fingers feel the warmth of your pussy, slowly sinking into your glossy cavern briefly. âi shouldnât even fuck you. donât think you deserve it, mamas.â
the way your eyes are stuck in the back of your head from her voice in your ear makes you wheeze, unable to pause the way your hips grind into her, needing her so badly it was becoming painful. you turn your head to kiss at her thumb, sticking your tongue out to lick and suck at it, ellie fixating on your tits beginning to slip from their enclosure of your top. ellie wastes not a moment later tugging them to sit underneath the heaviness of them, piercings gleaming on taut nipples. her palms take ahold of them, squeezing and molding with awe.
âfuck yourself,â her tongue underneath your jaw now, your body nearly tilted completely to your right side as you roll with pettiness, that bratty whimper filling the vehicle. ellie holds your legs back for better view, and you wanted to crawl into the back seat. part of you dissatisfied with her request.
the sadness in your eyes shows as you mutter, âc-canât, ellie. my nails.â
âdonât wanna hear it, sweetie. shouldâve thought about that before you got them done,â ellie kisses your neck gently, always managing to be sweet even through anger. âdo what i say. rub your pussy, you canât have my fingers âtil i say so.â
if you complied, sheâd have no choice but to pleasure her wife. make you feel good like she always does. so, you do as told. taking your right hand to rub your clit in pathetic little circles, soaking yourself and her at this point, ellie shifting beneath you with pent up sexual attraction, listening to how wet you were for her, loud even over the music. a never ending reward.
ânng, daddy, wanâ you,â a choke gets caught in your throat as you arch your back and collect your wetness to rub yourself quicker. although it feels good, itâs not enough, itâs not what you really crave, what youâre desperate for. you want her fingers.
âyou can go fuckinâ faster,â ellie grits her teeth in your ear, spanking your thigh once again. . . maybe even three times. just enough to hear you scream and cry. âcâmon, girl. make it sweet. i want it wet enough to drown my fuckinâ fingers in.â
the key words; my fingers. that draws a sadistic grin onto your face, a happy one at that. sheâs craving to stuff her fingers into you just as much as you want them. she just needs you to comply. to be a good girl. do as youâre told. fuck yourself like you want it. your clit throbs incessantly, highly sensitive from your fantasies all day about her. . . swollen and needy for attention.
âlick my fingers, ells,â guiding your fingers towards her mouth, ellie wraps her lips around them without a second thought, getting them wet while swirling her tongue around and moaning filthily. you moan along with her, whimpering from the interaction, eyes shutting briefly from the pleasure building in your tummy.
âyouâre so hot,â you whimper with truth, she truly was. her jade eyes intensely drooping before she releases your fingers, eyes darkening as she leans closer to peck her pouty lips with your own. a quick one two, before slurping her salvia down her throat, humming loudly.
âyeah. now guide âem to that pussy, and fuck it for me,â sheâs not repeating herself anymore. you nod quickly, rubbing her salvia over the mound of your cunt before slivering your fingers to your opening, collecting more of your juices and spreading your pretty lips apart for the engorged clit hiding between. ellie pulls her upper body to rest her head against the doors window while your head falls back onto the seat, wanting to catch a better look, blindly thrusting her hips up into you alls while digging her fingers into your waist to yank you down simultaneously. the friction and collision causing you to sob and rub yourself faster the way she likes to see.
âthere we go, atta girl,â she loves to give you that motion of actually fucking her, ellieâs eyes almost rolling back into her skull as she drops you down a bit quicker, hearing that beautiful voice of yours talk in tongues, or call her name. âthatâs it, mamas. you look so pretty for daddy.â
âf-fuck!â a sob erupts from you, ellieâs harsh thrusts fucking with your head. the imagery running awry. âg-god, ellie!â
âneed my fingers to finish, princess?â ellie coos teasingly, dropping you down even harder, your pussy bumping onto the bulge of her jeans that formed after slipping further down her slim waist. you couldnât wait to get home so she could really fuck you. bring out that special toy she liked to call her dick.
the cries are almost violent, scratching at her arm with your unoccupied hand and sobbing uncontrollably, telling her everything. you really have been needy, huh? âyessss, p-pleaseeee, fuck me ellie.â
âfuck, sound so good,â ellie halts her movements, yanking your hand out of the way and laying back in her spot to pull you closer. you cough out a moan when she inserts her middle and ring finger, ellie hissing from the tightness. âawe, baby. we gotta stretch you open some more.â
âoh my god,â your eyes scroll into the back of your head while your mouth drops with a broken gasp, ellie cussing under her breath when she sees a coat of white covering her fingers, dipping them in and out of your cunt steadily.
âbaby, you gâna make me eat you up, my fucking god,â ellieâs truly fascinated, sinking in and out, even curling them to get a reaction out of you. your body spasming above her. âpretty fucking cream. sâgorgeous, sweetie.â
the tightness of your walls clench and pull her deeper, ellieâs palm interacting with your clit as she slams her fingers in hard, a high pitched scream echoing from your mouth and immediately ellie slaps her palm around your mouth, jaw clenched as she whispers, âshut the fuck up, take that shit baby.â
a tear falls down your face from the overwhelming pleasure, your skin slapping amongst her palm as she fucks you to your final orgasm, her mouth gnawing at your throat bringing you to the brink after she bites down and drags out a moan along with you. your hips shake rapidly, chest heaving and riding out your high against her hand. ellie grabs your face with her wet palm to kiss you aggressively, gliding her lips with yours in a passionate, slow kiss. you feel it all over your body, pussy aching for more. ellieâs anger subsiding . . . at least after she fucked you dumb into the mattress later on that day. safe to say, never get stilettos without permission again.
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đ´! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life âĄ
#đৠËâ
đđđđđđđđđđ đđđđđđ đđ đđđđđđ.#ellie x reader#ellie x black reader#ellie smut#tlou#tlou smut#tlou ellie#ellie williams#ellie willams x reader#ellie x you#ellie x y/n#ellie willams smut#the last of us#tlou2#ellie fanfic#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie blurb
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Warnings: Language, slight smut, thigh & knee grinding/riding, filthy talk, public sexy time, and NSFW.
Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader
Directing Steve to pull his jeans down, so you can grind yourself on his thigh.
Heâs getting hot and wet in his boxers and canât take it out, due to driving on the road. But with a little coaxing from you, heâs pulling over as your panties are pulled to the side.
His tan, elongated arm crunches the leather of the seat as he throws it around behind you, his knuckles taunt. The afternoon sun catches on his silver chain, making you lick your lips, nearly missing his words. âCâmhere, baby. I can give you a few kisses, but you know we donât have time to ââ
The remaining words tumble back into his throat as he sees your jean shorts hit the floor and the massive wet patch soaking the white cotton crotch of your panties. Heâs nodding dumbly, using the lever to level his seat back, unclipping his seat belt to start on his own ensemble. âYeah. Okay. Fuck it, get over here to me, honey.â
He gets them to his ankles and youâre clambering atop him, telling him to lift his knee. Youâve often been a little shy about taking some initiative, so Steve lets you keep the reigns on this. All he can focus on is your pendant dangling between the perspiration thatâs pooled in the crevice of your cleavage, to your wet underwear. It takes him a second to hear your question.
âCan I?â
He doesnât care what you do, he just nods his head, cock beginning to pick painfully in his briefs. He assumes itâll be sex, but his jaw unhinges, teeth sinking into his lower lip, his tongue sliding out to lick across his stubble the second you make your decision, pulling your panties to the side, that thick want dripping from you slowly, staining his own undergarments. He sucks in sharply, reaching one massive hand for your waist, the other cupping the back of your neck as you lower your cunt directly over his knee. Sticky, warm, sopping wet â all understatements of the century. Steve can barely breathe, forgetting speech, head slamming back against the head rest, groaning at how good this feels.
Being touched without stimulating between his legs. Itâs indescribable. You drag your clit across his knee, trying to establish a rhythm, your hands draping over his shoulders, dipping into the collar of his t-shirt to plant themselves in your own personal jungle. âOh, fuck yeah.â
Itâs hard to keep his eyes open, pupils blown, sun shining in, anyone able to come by and see his girlfriend riding his leg â and Steve is fucking living for this shit. Your movements are more calculated as moments pass, the car growing hotter, battling the air conditioning, Steveâs breathing uneven, and your own. He can tell when you take solace in his neck, an arch that has his fingers tapping soothing rubs down your spine as you come. His cinnamon stained breath is whispering into your ear, âGood girl, honey. Used me all up, didnât you?â
You shakily press a kiss to his jugular and heâs feeling his tummy twist, toes push off the floor, body bowing into yours. He releases, fucking comes into his boxers with unsettled cries, holding onto you with everything in him. Youâre so fucking proud and turned on again, that you pull back to kiss him with fervor. The come down is incredible, vulnerable, just for the two of you. Mingled breaths, stolen kisses, and Steveâs running ignition.
He traces his thumb along your jawline on the breakaway, and helps you climb back into your seat to adjust. His briefs are uncomfortable, but his body is on fire. Itâs still a shock, however, when he does a U â Turn and gravel kicks up his tires, your head whipping back to see your destination now getting further. âUh, Steve?â
Heâs focussed on the road, albeit, is still radiating his scorching smolder when he answers. âHoney, Iâm gonna fuck you so hard that we wonât be going anywhere for the next twenty-four hours.â
#kristenwrites#my work#my writing#steve harrington#steve harrington smut#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things smut#stranger things drabble#stranger things blurb#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#steve harrington x female reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n smut#steve harrington x y/n
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Rainbow vs. Leather
Benny Cross x reader
Warnings - some swearing, flirty! and nervous! Benny
Word count - 2397
a/n - request: Hi!! If interested can you please do a Benny Cross x reader who is an unofficial member of the gang?. . .Benny likes her and tryâs to give her hints but she thinks that he is just being nice because she had bad luck with guys who only always saw her has a friend and so, he has to be blunt with her one day. And the rest is up to you. Thank you." - read the full request here. i think 2k words is just gonna be my average at this point lol, i hope you enjoy :)
âDo I have to?â You had asked your parents one night at dinner â they had basically turned it into an intervention.
Your parents werenât a huge fan of you just lounging around the house all the time with nothing to do, although you had no problem with just kicking back and watching a little television. They thought you needed to get out and socialize and make some friends.Â
You werenât necessarily opposed to the idea, but making friends wasnât an easy thing for you. You came off as shy at first, but once you got comfortable in your environment you became pretty talkative and outgoing. This was also a problem when having conversations with people because sometimes they thought you didnât want to talk, or even worse, that you didnât like them for some reason.Â
You wanted to come out of your shell, so when your parents told you that they wanted you to get a job, you were hesitant but you agreed.Â
At least they werenât kicking you out of the house.
What they didnât know is that you would get a job at the local bar where all the Vandals hung out, the townâs motorcycle club. It was easy for you since Johnny, a close family friend â leader and owner of the club â practically owned the bar, so when you had asked him for a job, he was completely fine with it.
Your parents thought you would get a job at something like the grocery store or the book store down the street, but since they loved Johnny they were okay with you working at the bar.Â
So now here you are, your third week as a bartender and you enjoyed it. For the most part, the guys were pretty respectful and you rarely had any problems â mainly because Johnny basically threatened them into treating you right before you even started.Â
There was this instance a couple days ago with a drunk guy, though. He kept getting closer and closer to you, and when it became clear he wasnât going to leave you alone, Johnny interrupted and kicked the guy out of the bar.
You told Johnny that you had it handled, but he had just dismissed you and said, âNo lady should have to deal with that.â
It was pretty obvious that this wasnât your usual crowd. You enjoyed wearing colorful clothes and jewelry, but you did try and tone it down a little so that you didnât stick out too much. Thankfully, you had made a couple of friends so you didnât feel too out of place.
âYou should come out riding with us later,â Kathy, a new friend, tells you from the other side of the bar counter.
âOn a motorcycle? Are you crazy?â You ask as you lean against the counter. A lot of the guys had already gotten their drinks, and they didnât want to get too drunk for the ride later, so you didnât have too much to do.
âWhat else would I be talking about?â she playfully rolls her eyes.
âI donât know, maybe a car ride?â
âWhen was the last time you had fun?â She asks you as she taps the ashes off the end of her cigarette.
âYesterday while watching some game show,â you joke, and Kathy just laughs.
âHow are you two doing over here?â Benny walks up with a glass in his hand, taking a seat next to Kathy.
Benny was another one of your new friends, and you enjoyed whenever he was around. Mostly because you liked how he made your heart flutter just by looking at you or giving you that smirk of his. You hate to admit it, but you were a goner the first day you had met him.
He wasnât your usual type, but who cares. The whole point of this job was to get you to become more open. You highly doubted that the feelings were reciprocated on his end, though.
But little did you know they were. Just like you, Benny had fallen for you as soon as he laid eyes on you. He had just entered the bar and joined a game of pool with some of the other Vandals.
As he was lining up his shot, he heard a laugh that he hadnât heard before. All the laughs he was used to were from the other Vandals or the raspy laughs from the girls that hung around and smoked.
Your laugh was different â light and airy and sometimes started off as just a giggle and got interrupted with a snort. It was also loud enough to be heard over the regular chatter of the bar, making Benny miss his shot.
The guys had joked and asked if he was distracted, but he just brushed it off and tried to regain his focus.
When he looked up furrowed eyebrows to see who was causing the noise powerful enough to throw him off his game, he noticed you standing there behind the bar. You are laughing at something Johnny had said to you as you poured him a drink.
Benny ended up missing his next two shots, and he surprisingly wasnât upset when he lost the game.
Benny needed to know who you were, and he made that his mission from then on. He tried to send you signals that he was interested in you, but for some reason you werenât picking them up. He loved the way you giggled at something he said or how your soft hand accidentally brushed his as you handed him his drink.Â
He was trying so hard to be patient, including now as he saw you talking with Kathy with a gentle smile.
âIâm trying to get her to join us later tonight for the night ride,â Kathy answers him.
âAnd?â Benny asks hopefully, his eyebrows raised as he looks at you with humor written across his face.
âNot happening,â you shake your head.
âWhy not?â he continues.
âBecause she doesnât like fun,â Kathy butts in before you can answer.
âHey, I do like to have fun. Itâs just that my version of fun and yours is different,â you defend.
âHave you ever been on a motorcycle?â Benny asks you as he rubs his hand over his chin. When you shake your head in response, he asks, âDo you want to?â
âNot really a huge fan of putting my life on the line like that,â you tell him. Benny chuckles, Kathy joining in.Â
âItâs not that dangerous, we donât always drive fast. Tonightâs just a cruise. Come on,â Benny says.
His intense gaze is almost enough to make you say yesâŚbut no. Being on the back of a motorcycle didnât seem as safe as being inside a closed up car.
âIâm okay, plus my parents might kill me if I stay out too late,â you say.
âDoesnât Johnny know your parents? Iâm sure they wouldnât be too mad,â says Kathy.
Bennyâs face contorts into surprise at Kathyâs statement. He looks back at you for confirmation, and you give him a silent nod.
âWhat about me?â Johnny questions as he hears his name being mentioned. He gives you a smile as he hands you his glass to refill.
Good, hopefully he can help you get out of this.
âWeâre trying to convince her to come out with us, but sheâs too afraid,â Kathy explains. You let out a scoff.
âOh, thatâs a good idea,â Johnny agrees, taking a sip from his glass.
What?
Your eyes widen as your lips slightly parted in disbelief.
Johnny shakes his head in amusement at your expression. âI promise itâs not that bad, youâll be safe with us. If you get in any trouble with your parents, Iâll talk to them myself.â
You look at the three pairs of eyes staring back at you, waiting for your answer â Kathy with her eyebrows raised, Benny with a daring look behind his eyes, and Johnny with a smirk.
âFine,â you surrender, throwing your hands in the air as the group in front of you lets out a small cheer.Â
As the night at the bar comes to an end, the bikers take that last sip from their glass and throw on their colors, before filing out the door and heading toward their bikes. Hoots and hollers fill the air as everyone begins to hype each other up.Â
âYou can ride with me,â you hear Benny tell you as he walks past you and toward his own motorcycle. He doesnât look back at you as he starts up the bike and waits as everyone else does the same.
Get on a bike. With Benny.
You spot Kathy on a bike with Cal. When she sees you looking, she nods her head towards Benny and smiles. You inhale a deep breath to give yourself before heading towards Benny, who offers you his hand as you climb on behind him.
âWell Iâll be damned, is Rainbow finally coming?â Brucie laughs when he sees you. He gave you the nickname when he saw you on your first day dressed in pastel colors and joked about how bright your clothes were. The name has stuck with you ever since, unfortunately.
âHell yeah,â Cockroach shouts, along with a few others.
You roll your eyes and try to hide the smile forming across your lips. Benny instructs you to wrap your arms around his torso, which you do with uncertainty. Youâre not sure how high or low you should have your hands and how tight to hold onto him.Â
This feels oddly intimate.Â
He smells like cigarettes â which would normally be a huge turn off if it was someone else â along with sweat from the multiple rounds of pool he played throughout the night, and his natural musk.Â
Benny mustâve noticed your nervousness because he grabs your hands and places them on his abdomen, allowing you to feel the muscles beneath his shirt. He gives your hands a small pat as if to keep them in place before following the rest of the Vandals as they pull out onto the street.
Youâre not sure exactly what you were expecting, but it wasnât this. The way the wind whips around and through, taking your breath away in such an addicting way. The way the motorcycle vibrates your whole body, only intensifying your experience. Youâre not sure how fast Bennyâs going, but you couldnât care less.
You hate to admit it, but the ride is over too quickly for your liking. As Benny separates from everyone else and pulls up in front of your house, you realize the smile currently on your face hasnât left since the ride started.
Benny comes to a slow stop before cutting the engine and helping you off the bike and onto the sidewalk. Your body is still buzzing from the vibration of the bike, but you enjoy the feeling.
Thereâs a silence between the two of you as he watches you for a moment, looking you up and down.
âWhat?â You laugh nervously as you shift under his gaze. You wrap your arms around your body, not just to shield yourself from the window, but from him.
Benny smiles and shakes his head. âNothing. I take it you enjoyed the ride.â
âI did actually,â you nod.
âSo you wouldnât be opposed to doing it again sometime?â he asks.
âI guess not,â you say.
âWith me,â he adds, more as a statement than a question.
You blink. âWhat?â
âYou know what. Iâm asking you to come riding with me,â he says casually.
You want to say something, but honestly you're at a loss for words.
âCome on, you know you want to,â he smirks.
âAnd why would I do that?â you question.
âBecause I want you to,â he shrugs his shoulders as he looks out into the distance. Benny takes a breath and hesitates for a second before looking back at you. Itâs now or never. âDo you know how long Iâve been trying to get your attention?â
âMy attention?â you ask, but you think you know where heâs headed with this.
âYes, your attention. Iâve been flirting with you pretty much everyday since you started working at the bar, and you donât seem to notice. I mean, some of the other guys have picked up on the fact that I like you.â
âI thought you were just being nice,â you tell him, your forehead creasing.
âNice?â Benny scoffs with a laugh. âI donât think anyoneâs ever called me that.âÂ
âI donât know, I just-I thought you were being nice since Iâm always hanging around Kathy!â
âEven Kathy has noticed!â he throws a hand up.
âLower your voice!â you hush him. Itâs after midnight, and you donât want everyone on the street to start looking out of their windows.
You really donât know what to say now, though. Like, what the hell have you been doing all this time?
Well, to be fair, people donât usually flirt with you.
âSoâŚ.â
âSoâŚ.â Benny drags out. âWill you put me out of my misery and go on a date with me? It doesnât have to be anything special, unless you want it to. We can just go for a ride or I could take you out to eat. Anything you want,â Benny looks at you with hope written all over his face.Â
A grin slowly made its way across your face as you took in Benny. Is he nervous?
âI mean, I canât really say no because we see each other all the time at the bar anyways,â you joke, causing Benny to let out a chuckle.
âIs that a yes then?â he asks.
âYes,â you confirm. Benny nods, satisfied with your answer.
âI guess I should probably go â youâre cold, and Iâm pretty sure your mother has been looking out the window this whole time,â Benny smirks.
Your mouth drops as you whip your head around just in time to see someone move away from the window on the second floor. Thereâs no doubt youâll be flooded with a ton of questions later.
You turn back around when you hear Bennyâs engine start back up.
âIâll see you soon, Rainbow,â Benny shoots you a win, stealing the nickname Brucie had given you. Â
âThatâs not my name!â you shout after him, and he just gives you a quick glance back before continuing down the road.
like what you see? check out my masterlist :)
#austin butler#austin butler x reader#austin butler imagine#benny cross#benny cross x reader#the bikeriders#the bikeriders x reader
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â all-american
james potter x reader â
869 words
"Can you two stop giggling? People are staring."
The boys followed the tallest Marauder through the streets of muggle London, on their way to some American diner Peter had told them about. The purebloods couldn't help but 'ooh' and 'ahh' at all the unusual things they didn't have back in their world. A large neon sign came into view, the 'C' in 'Nick's Diner' flickering on and off. The loud jingle of the bell as they opened the door announced their arrival, only a few other patrons scattered around the diner. A voice from somewhere back in the kitchen called out.
"Welcome in, take a seat anywhere you'd like!"
They decided on a red leather booth near the back corner, a 'Taxi Driver' poster plastered right above the table. The black and white checkerboard flooring and jukebox made it feel like they were in that film 'Grease' their friend Lily makes them watch every other week.
"Evening boys, how's everyone doin'? My name is Y/N, can I get anyone started with a drink?"
James thinks he must've gotten hit by a muggle car crossing the street to get here because he believes he's seeing an angel in person. You just look so pretty, in your little red dress and white apron, curly hair tied up in a ponytail. Your smile. Merlin, he was going to need to get his eyes checked again after dinner because your smile was truly blinding. Were those wedding bells he was hearing?
"I think James over here is good, all that drool should last him a good week or two."
A hard slap on the back took him out of his daze. His eyebrows pinched together and he was about to say something back to Sirius when he realized he was drooling, quickly wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater before turning back to you with red cheeks and a sheepish smile.
"A Coca-Cola for me, please."
You think the blushing boy before you couldn't get any cuter. You grinned and nodded, telling them you'd be back with their drinks as you strolled back to the kitchen.
Once James finally took his eyes away from your swinging ponytail, he was met with three shit-eating grins. He glares back but their smiles do not falter, causing James to scoff with furrowed eyebrows. "What."
Dinner goes by in a flash with the friends enjoying their meals and sneakily changing the music from the jukebox, wands hidden under the table. The boys notice they just so happen to have a very attentive waitress, your lovely self coming around to their table often. It was interesting that even after they'd finished eating, you would appear to fill their almost overflowing cups with water or drop off extra napkins. James did nothing but send a dopey grin your way, and he does consider talking to you but freezes the second your big brown eyes stare back at him.
Remus groaned as he watched his friend be so pathetically consumed by you, setting down his now empty mug. "Prongs, tell me. Are you going to ask her out or just sit there with your tongue out like Padfoot begging for someone to throw him a bone?"
"I do not beg!" The dog animagi sputtered, hitting the dirty blonde beside him, "Tell 'em Pete!"
"Piss off Moony, it's not that easy. She's perfect."
Your shift was over, and truthfully it could've been worse. The table of four boys really made up for the more sour customers you had earlier in the day. The disappointment on your face was obvious when you had gone to clean their table and there was no number left behind on any of the napkins.
After finishing your closing duties you walked out the back door and turned the corner to find a large eagle owl perched upon the diner's bike rack. It wasn't too common to see owls in this area, but the shine of its feathers and well maintained claws tell you it's not from around here. Taking careful steps towards the bird, you offer your hand. It expanded its wings and flapped them twice at you before butting its head against the palm of you hand. You smiled and smoothed the beautiful creature's feathers back, now realizing there was an envelope sitting between the owl's talons. Taking the envelope and opening it up, you find a letter written to who you presumed to be yourself.
Dearest Y/N,
You have me infatuated with your beautiful smile and killer table waiting skills. I'm pretty funny and can show you a good time. Not like that though, unless you wanted t
What I mean to say is, I would throw all of England's tea in the ocean again if it meant I could win the honor of taking you out. On a date that is, not like killing you. I promise to make the night magical. I'll come by the diner next week with flowers and hopefully you don't punch me in the face for being a creep.
Yours,
James Potter
Smiling to yourself, you gave the owl one last pet and a thank you before pulling your wand out and disapparating home.
#marauders#marauders x reader#marauders era#james potter#james potter x reader#james fleamont potter#sirius black#remus lupin#peter pettigrew
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â imagine going down on heeseung at the back of his car đŤ
the way his legs would spread automatically to make room for you, a cocky smirk spreading across his lips. his hand comes to hold the back of your head, guiding you to his clothed cock that is practically throbbing for your attention. you haven't even started anything and he's already so needy for you.
"be a good girl, yeah?" he hums, making quick work of his jeans and his underwear. he lets the fabric pool around his knees, too desperate to have himself shoved into your tight mouth to care about completely removing his clothing.
his cock stands between his legs, the tip red and leaking. heeseung doesn't need to say much else really. the sight of his cock is already enough to have your mouth watering, not hesitating a second more before peppering open mouthed kisses around his head.
"fuckkk..." heeseung groans. his brows furrow as he struggles to keep his eyes open, fighting the onslaught of overwhelming pleasure just to watch his head disappear into your tight little mouth. he can't help the shiver that runs down his spine as your run your tongue across his slit, exactly the way he loves it. he's not afraid to let you know how well you're doing either.
"just like that, baby," he moans, his thighs tensing as you take more of his length into your mouth. "feels so fuckin' good." his fingers tighten into your hair, his hips instinctively bucking as you hollow your cheeks.
his head is thrown back into the leather material of the seat as you sink your mouth further down his length. one little peek up at him from your lashes has your panties soaked.
heeseung's brows are scrunched together, his eyes shut tight. his mouth is parted into an "o", his rough moans and grunts continuously flowing out of his mouth. knowing that your actions were the cause of his state simply makes you delirious.
when you moan around his cock at the sight of his ecstasy, his breath hitches. it takes a lot of effort for him to crack his eyes open to peer down at you, his cock stuffed into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat.
"you like that, hm?" he hums, grunting when you nod your head. "you like seeing how good you're makin' me feel, baby?" before you know it, the man is gripping your head in place, shallowly thrusting his length in and out of your mouth.
"oh, fuck," heeseung hisses, his thrusts turning frantic as you take whatever he gives you. "shit, baby... your mouth is making me feel so good." he murmurs, mindlessly fucking into your wet cavern.
when you start to time the bobbing of your head with his thrusts, heeseung completely loses it. his hips falter and his back arches to get himself to reach the back of your throat one last time.
"fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants unbashedly, his orgasm approaching embarrassingly quick. "i'm gonna cum. a-ah! holy shit, baby 'm gonna cum."
you pop your mouth off of him. your hand wraps around his length, furiously pumping his cock as you open your mouth and sticking your tongue out for him to cum into. good lord, the sight had heeseung right on the edge.
"oh my god, yes, yes, yes! fuck, that's a good girl," he cries out, voice rising in tone. his hands move from yoir head to the headrest of the backseat, arms flexing as he feels the pressure build in his stomach. "fuckkk, baby, that's it! don't stop... keep going." he's sure his eyes roll to the back of his head when he feels the pressure in his stomach snap.
pearly white ropes of cum shoot out of him, his back permanently archea as his hips instinctively rub his tip across the smooth muscle of your tongue. "f-fuck!"
"a-ah! 'm cumming! take it all like a good girl," he moans. he's practically whinning with how high pitched his voice is. an airy and breathless pant escapes him with each drop of cum your milk from his tip, a stark contrast to the rough and hoarse tone he was using earlier.
"oh my god, you drive me nuts." he chuckes breathlessly, giving you no time to recover as he pulls you up for a heated kiss. it doesn't take long before he's pushing you back into the backseat, his lips pressing open mouthed kisses to every corner of your exposed skin.
"h-heeseungâ" you try speaking, a gasp leaving you as his hand sneaks into your skirt to feel the wetness in between your legs.
"my poor baby," he coos, nibbling at a the skin right underneathe your collar bone. "got so wet giving me the best head, huh? you want a reward?"
"lay back, sweetheart. i'll take care of you."
#laena.library#enhypen hard hours#heeseung hard hours#heeseung hard thoughts#enhypen hard thoughts#heeseung smut#enhypen smut#lee heeseung smut#110623#god pls i want him so bad.#probably has a lot of errors#its like 2 am pls forgive me :âD
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1.7k / 21 / soap soulmate au, part 2
...
Unfortunately, Ghost finds you before Soap does.
Ghost yanks you by the elbow, cuffs around your wrists, dragging you to an unmarked military vehicle, pistol in hand.
"Where are you taking me?" you ask him.
He shoves you into the back seat and slams the door, gets in on the other side and starts the car up. You right yourself, having been shoved hard enough for your ribs to bounce off the leather seats.
He answers without looking at you. "The base." Curt, cold, and pissed. He drops the gun barrel-down into the cup holder.
"We just left the base."
"Huh. So we did." He keeps his eyes on the road. "Ain't that funny."
Thereâs a chance heâs not 141. As if thereâs some other brick shithouse of a man who wears a skull balaclava around.
You shift in your seat. "What do you want from me?"
âNothin' that'll feel good, I can tell ya that." He rests his elbow on the center console. âWeâre gonna have a long talk."
"And then what?"
âDunno. Maybe a bullet. Depends on how much you piss me off. Got a lot of questions to ask you first.â
Great.
You look around. This isnât a police vehicle. Barely a military vehicle. Thereâs no barrier between you and that gun in the front seat cupholder. But youâre not an idiot. He knows you won't go for it, too, but he wants you to try.
You lean back, looking out the window at your side. "You can still turn yourself in. You donât need to resort to hostages.â
âI made my choice. Not a difficult choice, considering how corrupt Shadow Company is."
âOrders are orders.â
âYou always follow orders to arrest your friends, no questions asked?â
âWhen thereâs good reason to.â
"Good reason, my ass. You're just a mindless dog, doing whatever Graves says. You think he'll protect you from the consequences of his actions? He'll toss you to the wolves in a heartbeat if it means saving his own sorry ass."
"That's not true."
"It's the mercenary way, innit. Sell yourself to the highest bidder and tell yourself orders are orders."
You brace one boot on the other, slowly working one foot free from inside. "Militaryâs the same. Only difference between us is you're salaried."
âI fight for a cause. Canât say the same for your line of work. All you know how to do is gun targets down for cash and a little approval from your boss. Pathetic.â
Your heel slides loose. âNo cause is clean. You canât tell me youâve never seen corruption in your line of work. Or a bad call. Or an unnecessary death.â
He grips the wheel, glaring at you in the mirror. âDoesnât make it right. Sure as hell doesnât mean you turn a blind eye to goddamn betrayal in your own ranks.â
âSome bureaucrat in a suit fumbling the bag and trying to right wrongs doesnât make us corrupt. Graves knows what heâs doingâ"
"So you knew."
Your jaw snaps closed mid-sentence. Shit.
He's staring right at you in the rearview mirror, eyes so cold they could freeze the breath in your lungs. "You knew about Shepherd. Didn't you?"
You swallow, looking away from the mirror and out the window. Your left foot finally comes free, and you shift subtly to brace your heel on your right boot, beginning to work your right foot loose next. "Doesn't matter."
âYou followed orders to turn on your own allies, knowing they came from Shepherd. Knowing all he cares about is covering his own mistakes." He grips and re-grips the wheel slowly, as if he's thinking hard about picking up that handgun and ending your life in a ditch somewhere. "Welcomed us into a slaughterhouse for a fistful of cash. Bet you sleep real easy at night."
You trust Graves. Heâs never steered you wrong. You were doing the right thing by following orders. That mantra is stuck in your throat. You want it to be true, but then thereâs Johnny.
Ghost hasn't mentioned him by name. The Shadows never found himâhe got awayâbut you don't dare let yourself think about the implications of him being alive and knowing about you. You put it out of your mind as soon as the thought surfaces, even. You made a deal with yourself that you'd never dwell on it again. Much less ask his very hostile squadmate about it. Youâre not about to offer your arteries up to a butcher.
"Shepherd is in your chain of command, too."
"Not anymore. You and yours made sure of that."
"You didn't have to defect. Commander Graves asked you to come quietly. You would've been fine. You didn't do anything wrong, right?â You hear an edge in your tone and blunt it back down. "You didn't have anything to hide. But you turned it into a firefight."
"You realize youâre defending the bastard that sold out me and my team. You think I'd lay down, let him put us in some jail cell to rot for the rest of our days? I've seen too many people follow orders, trusting that everyone above them has their best interests at heart. Seen more than a few of them get punished at the hands of men like Shepherd. I'm not giving him another chance to betray me.â You still feel his eyes on you in the mirror, but you don't look. "You never once stopped and questioned what you were told to do? Or did it not matter because your loyalty was to your company, not the right thing?" His voice is flat. "That's the difference between me and you. I don't look for excuses to feel better about my actions. And I damn sure don't turn my gun on my allies.â
Your stomach curls with discomfort. "You had a choice. You knew how this would end for you."
"Rather be a wanted criminal for the right reasons than a gun being pointed at whoever Shepherd wants dead. And wouldn't you know it--I'm in damn good company, too. Turns out sticking to a moral code earns you a little more loyalty than payinâ cash. But you want to know what the best part of being a criminal is?" He taps out an odd little tune on the wheel, but thereâs nothing warm or cute about it. The loaded gun would be friendlier to contend with. âI donât have to follow Shepherdâs orders. Iâm free to deal with this little problem as I see fit, and no one can tell me Iâm wrong. If I kill some mercenaries who would arrest me on sight, that's just the unfortunate collateral damage that comes with my newfound freedom and your buddies following orders."
You consider that for a long moment. âSo when do you plan to kill me?â
"Depends on whether or not I like what I hear in the next couple of hours. Might change my mind in that time. Might not." He takes his hand off the steering wheel to lean back a little. The road is empty, stretching long into the horizon. "The more I hear you talk, the more I feel like shooting you just for the sake of it. But I've got too many questions for that, so..." He lets the implied you live for now hang in the air, then taps the wheel again. "We'll see how the rest of this convo goes."
You manage to slide your right heel free. You glance up to see him looking at you in the mirror again. Your heart skips. You think he's caught you. But he doesn't say anything, and you realize he's just examining you, mulling something over.
âI donât know what you think I can tell you, but I donât know anything,â you say.
âWhy donât you just stay quiet and think about all that stuff you donât know. Maybe weâll starve you until you talk; maybe weâll grease your palms. Thatâs how you operate, hm?â
Heâs trying to make you angry, make you take the bait, but you donât. You know what you are.
You keep both feet carefully lowered into your boots so as not to rouse suspicion. âFor what itâs worth, Iâm sorry you and your buddy got hurt.â
That seems to catch him off guard. He frowns. A beat passes where he doesn't say anything, just watches you. Not angry or suspicious, just... calculating. "Not worth much. And his name is Johnny. But you knew that, didn't you?"
You look away. Ghost's cell phone rings.
The sound pulls his attention away from you. He glances down at the display with a frown.
"On with Ghost." A short reply. "Yeah, I got her. About three hours out." He glances at you once as the person on the other line says something else, but after a few more seconds, you can tell he's more concerned with what they're saying than with you.
This is your chance.
With his eyes fixed on the road, you silently pull your cuffed arms under you, lifting your feet deftly through the loop of your arms.
You glance down at the gun one more time. Heâs holding the phone with his left hand; driving with his right. Still, even with your hands in front of you, youâre cuffed. You wonât have a chance if you go for that gun and he gets it away from you. It wonât end well.
Plan B, then.
You push your feet back into your boots and slide yourself behind his seat.
"Hey!"
Drill Sergent voice. Busted.
He hits the brakes, drops his phone, and reaches for the pistol.
You slam your feet into the back of his seat, sending him crashing forward and trapping him between the seat and the wheel. The horn blares. The car jerks and runs off the road.
Cuffed hands in front of you, you throw your weight against the driver's side door and grab the handle. He reacts, but not quick enough, his gloved hand snatching at the space where yours were a second after you get the door open.
You dive outside, crash to the ground, roll ungracefully away from the back wheels as they roar past, and use the momentum to get back to your feet. The car keeps rolling, driver's side door still open. It's still moving fast, and you landed hard. That's going to hurt in a minute. Not yet, though.
You run.
...
part 1 / [part 2] / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12
more Soap / masterlist tag
#soulmate soap#mine#story#soulmate au#john soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish#soap cod#johnny mactavish#soap mactavish#soap x reader#soap x you#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x you#cod#cod x reader#call of duty#call of duty x reader#cod mw2#cod mwii#tf 141#tf 141 x reader
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CASUAL ft. FWB!JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH
Warnings: Sexual Content, AFAB!Reader, FWB, Angst to Comfort
Author's note: Because Soap brainrot, that's all
Knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out Is it casual now?
The death grip you have on his mohawk as he sloppily eats you out with such vigor is making your legs shake so hard as you climax for the third time in the backseat of his truck. A gentle slap and a tender kiss to your clit after he's done supping you up and then he's adjusting himself in his trousers to make himself a little more comfortable under the restricting material.
"I gotta go now." He breathes, rubbing your bare thigh and you shiver at his touch. He always had to go. And honestly you could feel your heart dropping to your stomach as he flashes you that casual, boyish grin.
You only nod as you recollect yourselves and climb back to the front seats. Your heart on your sleeve as he pulls at your place and you're turning to him with a bashful smile. His baby blue are distant but he gives you a warm, good-natured grin as he rubs your thigh.
"Good seein' ya, lassie." He points his chin to the door as a gesture for you to hit the road in the most "polite" way possible.
You were no stranger to Johnny's detached ways. He was an avoidant at best when got his and he was sending you on your way to do whatever it is that you do before he hits you up again with a, "You up?" text.
Ugh.
"Dude, you deserve better." Your friend shakes her head at you as she pinches at a fry and pops it into her mouth.
"Honestly, he's a fucking asshole. He should be on his knees asking to be your man, not just the backseat of his truck." Your other friend chides, but it's lost on you. Their voices drown out as you peer over at your buzzing phone.
"You free tonite, lassie?"
"Don't" They quip at the same time, but it's tossed to the backlogs of your mind when you rush home after your hang out.
He's already there leaning against your doorway, swinging his car keys between his fingers as he lustfully gazes down at you. And in no time he's jovially, hungrily taking your face between his stout, calloused hands and kissing you passionately, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he grinds into you. And you can't take it anymore, you want him. You want him so fucking bad and you didn't care if it was casual. Or whatever bullshit, avoidant bullshit he was feeding you.
You wanted him, craved him. You waste no time pulling aside your panties as he merely unzips his jeans to free his hard, girthy cock and presses it between your succulent, dripping folds, and his thick brows are furrowed together in euphoria. He casts a small glance down at you to make sure you're all right as he pushes himself deeper into you. It's a pleasant burn as he stretches you out, and you welcome it because fuck, it feels so fucking good when he's filling you up, but when he's done emptying himself out you're hollow once again as he's zipping his jeans back up.
He adjusts his brown leather jacket and gives you a wink and kiss to the cheek before he's on his way out.
And you almost feel like crying when he's gone. Just the remnants of his cologne and splooge still left on your linen sheets.
Two weeks, and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach Is it casual now?
And then you're at the grocery store, picking out what bouquet would be the prettiest as your centerpiece, and feel a pair of arms wrap around you, a steady kiss to the cheek, and a rumbling Scottish accent in your ear, "Hey, sexy."
You visibly melt at his touch and he loves the way you're wrapped around his finger. Addicted to how pliant you are for him in every conceivable way.
"Ey, Johnny, ye gonna introduce me?"
And you both freeze at the voice. An awkward laugh escapes his chest as he's moving away from you and see a woman who adorns strikingly similar features to him.
"Ma, this is..."
"[name]." You smile that glorious smile of yours and for a second it's got Johnny kinda dazed. He's blinking out of his stupor, but something about the way you shake his moms hand and so effortlessly talk to her stirs something in him. A side he's never bothered to explore because he was waaaay too busy exploring your insides.
"Ye should come t' our house in Long Beach. We're havin' a wee, friendly get-together. Bring a pal, even." Her accent is thicker and even less coherent to your ears than Johnny's is so it takes you a second to decode what she's saying. And suddenly your face lights up and--uh, oh, Johnny's in trouble now.
Because she's smacking him across the head with her rolled-up wad of weekly ads that she picked up from the market and scolding him for not telling her about you.
"Aye, Johnny, I knew what ye're up to. She's a braw lassie. Get yerself sorted!" She spews as he opens the passenger seat door for her, rubbing the back of his head. You almost feel bad for him as you watch him get reprimanded by his mother from your car. But it's almost a little too embarrassing that you could tell what the conversation was about.
And he's trying his best not to be a dickhead when you do actually show up at the party, but you're lighting the room up with every step as you're being engaged and thrown into a cacophony of banter and laughter. And you're actually so fucking funny? Like, really funny, like he's keeling over and clutching his stomach funny and it's not just because of the persistent buzz of his ale.
You're witty and sexy and downright fucking gorgeous, especially when the sea breeze picks up and sends your hair back a little and it's like a slo-mo in those romcoms Johnny was forced by his mother to watch when he was growing up. And how could he forget about how gentle you were when you're speaking to the wee ones. Weaving wildflower crowns and plaiting hair as you coo at them so maternally. And the cheeky little grins you would have on your face as you whisper little nonsensicals to them, and melodious giggles that follow.
Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuck.
Is it casual now? I know what you tell your friends
But then you're heaving after your second orgasm, he's still pounding away at you and there's a different look in his eyes as he bends down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. He's overstimulating your clit and telling you what a sweet girl you are for him and that sends you over the edge and he's pulling out to cum all over your belly in hot white spurts.
Another kiss to your forehead before he gets up to what you think is him getting a towel to clean you up but he's lifting you over his shoulder in one swift movement and you're giggling all the way over to the shower. And then there's another round of deep, thrusting into your a-spot against the cold shower tiles until you're rolling your eyes back and begging for him to let you cum.
And that release is something else and he's smiling at you with his teeth latched between his lips, soaked dark lashes that frame his pretty cerulean blue eyes that send you into a trance. Honestly, heart eyes motherfucker because that's exactly how you would describe yourself in that moment as you gaze at him. He's just too damn pretty for words.
And how gentle he is when he's helping you clean off, but his presence is stripped too quickly for your liking. He's toweling himself down and grabbing his boxers as he puts his clothes back on, and you can only stand there studying him from the shower. He's leaving again and your heart was sinking.
But then you're hearing his voice, and you peep you head out just a bit to catch the conversation.
"Girlfriend?" He laughs, "not even close, mate."
And you could almost just disappear down the drain. You felt humiliated as you swamp out the rest of the exchange under the din of the hot water hitting your eardrums.
"She's mare like wifey material." He chuckles, thumbing through his camera roll in the little album he's titled, "Bonnie <3".
It's pictures he's collected over the past year of the both of you, some candid, (a lot) some in bed, and a ton from the night at the beach house. You were truly so beautiful and Johnny was getting caught up in you and he was no longer fighting it.
And I try to be the chill girl That holds her tongue and gives you space
But you're getting fed up when you're in the middle of movie night and Johnny decides it's the best idea to watch Good Will Hunting. And it's the scene where Will and Skylar are breaking up and it's tearing you up inside when you see Johnny get a bit misty-eyed. You can't help yourself. You reach for the remote and pause it before, turning to him with anger and frustration in your eyes. And he's reaching out for you to calm you down with a flummoxed gaze, but you're refusing his touch and comfort.
And Johnny is sent home with his tail between his legs, speeding down the highway as he blasts Johnny Cash and attempts to suppress the earlier occurrence. It's unpleasant. The feeling that's settling into his chest and it feels tight.
He pumps the brakes. Hard.
And he's reversing in the middle of an intersection, cars are honking, people yapping at him but it's white noise as he's racing back to your place.
And with his heart in his hand, he's thumping urgently at your door and it feels like a millennia before you're opening it.
Tear-stained blood-shot eyes, disheveled hair in his Scotland flag embroidered hoodie he misplaced a month ago. He stares at your sniffling, crumpled form. Oh, how could he have done this to such a beautiful woman?
"I was lookin everywhere fer that hoodie." He says softly. His eyes are glossy as he blinks down at you, half smile and all.
You peer at the hoodie and then up at him. "What do you want? The hoodie? Here."
You begin to take it off but he's shaking his head and pulling it back down especially when he realizes you have nothing on underneath and he would be baring you out to the world. He heaves himself inside and you're scrambling against his arms, trying to push him out but of course, Johnny outsizes you by way too much to even make him move. He's holding you by the waist, leaning his forehead against yours as he dabs at the tears in the corner of your eyes.
"Y're so beautiful, [name]." He murmurs.
You're watery eyes, ream at his words. He had never said that to you before and your heartstrings are being pulled in every direction.
"What...?"
He kisses your cheek so tenderly and you feel like your ascending, "I said, y're beautiful, [name]. 'n' I wish I told ye that earlier."
You gaze down at his shoes not wanting to meet his eyes but he lifts your chin and meets your lips with the softest kiss he's ever bestowed upon you. It was so chaste yet so ardent and it made your heart skip a beat.
"I don't understand." Your thoughts are racing at this point and he can see it in your eyes. How absolutely head over heels you are for him and he was too much of a dickhead to really acknowledge it, how utterly striking you were, how perfectly imperfect you were. Going out of your way for him and fuck, he did not deserve it. Not then and maybe not even now, but realizing what a catch he has in his literal palms, he doesn't want to let go. And he will do anything to make up for it.
"'m sorry, hen. Never should have treated like ye were rubbish. Ye should be cherished 'n' protected." He brushes the hair out of your face and it is a painful revelation standing there in front of you with his heart on display and he's wondering how you were so brave to be doing it baring it out for him every time. And still, he would reject it like the bastard he was. Refusing to let you in when all you wanted was to be preserved, served, and loved.
"Johnny, I--" You croak out, tears cascading down your cheeks and you're looking back down at the ground, but he gently cups your cheeks.
"No, I love you, [name]. An' if ye let me, 'll do everythin' an' anythin' to make it up to ye. Ye were always there f'r me, an' it's about time I return it."
He shakes his head, wiping away his eyes. "Damn, 'm pure shite at this, but I hope ye can forgive me."
But as warm as your heart was, you have to stand firm. Johnny had hurt you in so many ways so, it wasn't going to be easy for you to just say yes. "You really hurt me, Johnny..."
"I know, I know, but 'm a man of action an' 'll do anythin'." He's pleading and to say that it isn't satisfying as fuck to see this beautiful, brawny man that you've been fucking for the past year groveling for you, was simply a lie.
"Ye gettin' off to this?" A smile graces his lips and you try to hold back, but you can't help but smile back at him.
Everything is so infectious about Johnny and it kills you.
"Fuck you." You breathe out, running a hand through your hair.
And he can't help but attack you with kisses and lift you up before crushing you under his weight as he lays you out on your mattress. Giggling like a maniac you remember to compose yourself even if it felt like the surface was breaching. There's a pause and you're both gazing into each other's eyes as you intertwine fingers, and Johnny is kissing you again, but it's different. It's really full of love and admiration.
He sighs in content for a moment before withdrawing and peers down at you. "S'what d'ya say? Gimme a chance?"
You cock a brow and smile at him. "You really are in no position to ask me."
"But..." "I'll sleep on it."
He's beaming at you now and you're totally getting flustered under his gaze. He wasn't going to let you slip away this go around.
"Deal."
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