#if i see one more x reader in a main tag that essentially turns the character the author/reader is trying to fuck into an oc

[gojoskellington]

watching people consistently mischaracterize certain characters (and stories as a whole) because they a) don't like them or b) want to turn them into something they're not or c) turn them into stereotypes genuinely makes me insane. i may like/hate a certain character but i won't turn them into something they're not like?????

[xxzlushiez]

My American dream

“You’re so Art Deco out on the floor, shining like gunmetal, cold and unsure”

Bill Kaulitz x f!reader

Synopsis: I’m in such a mood right now I just want to write everything that comes to mind. Basically, bill takes a liking to a teen singer that came from America to Germany

Tags: 18+, implied smut, Name is from America, Tom being Tom, kissing, bill is a tease but means well, making fun of American accents, language barrier (this is based before the members spoke fluent English), confusion, reader smokes weed

German in bold

English in italics

- it started with your tour manager saying you should consider going to another country to gain more popularity

- you believed it was a good idea and could benefit your career so you agreed, easy enough right?

- you were wrong…so so wrong😭

- Communication was ROUGH

- Your team had to rent out a whole car because talking with transportation workers was too difficult for everyone without a translator

- Your managers were definitely getting gray hairs because of you

- When the day of the interview came, your manager surprised you last minute saying you would be collaborating with a popular German band in the interview

- It was a good idea essentially

- Rising teen artists from two different countries hanging out would cause some attention

- But both parties couldn’t even speak to each other so it was a wreck for everyone up until the interview finally started

- you rambled about how excited you were to your makeup artist and you swear he pressed down on your eye extra hard while applying the makeup just to get you to shut up

- When the interview started and you settled into your seat you took time to look at all 4 of the members

- You looked for who your manager had described as the main vocalist of the group and he easily caught your eye

- The same could be said about you

- Bill noticed when you walked out that your styles were similar and he was mesmerized

- you saw the way he was eyeing you up and down while the other band members were answering questions

- “he’s definitely judging me rn”

- In a way…but he was just checking you out don't worry

- the interviewer decided you should all play a game of charades between languages and see who wins

- And with his luck he had gotten partnered up with you

- While you were so excited to be partnered up with another lead singer, he was shaking in his skinny jeans💀

- he was also very happy he just got a little nervous because he had to speak English which he wasn’t completely confident in

- He sat with you on the cramped sofa and tried to introduce himself to you

- “I'm Bill, it’s nice to finally meet you! I’ve heard some of your songs”

- You stared at him with the stupidest look of your face

- Bill:😊 you:😁

- “Oh I didn’t know the game started already”

- It was so awkward for the first few minutes that the translator had to come help you guys out out of her own secondhand embarrassment

- But once you properly introduced yourselves you were able to “talk” with each other so easily

- the convos flowed so naturally between you two that fans started to get jealous🤭

- half way through the game he was trying to help you understand a German word and saw you had gotten extremely close to him

- When he noticed he went dead silent and went as still as a statue, fans swore he turned into concrete and you were just 3 inches away from his face like-

- “Why’d you stop? I almost had it.☹️”

- there was so many urges he was holding back on when he was near you

- was staring at your lips the whole time but played it off as learning the pronunciation of the word you were saying when you asked him

- everyone noticed how he was looking at you, and how he touched you even when there was no need

- You guys both had undeniable chemistry with one another

- the band teased bill on how quick he cozied up next to you during the game

- Tom dry humping the air and George pretending to make out with Gustav to embarrass Bill and he’s just there like…

- 🧍”and that’s why I’m leaving”

- He would go off to find you and complain abt how annoying they were as you both munched on some snacks until the break ended

- He would always giggle when you spoke and you thought he was making fun of you

- He kinda was in his mind but he mostly just loved the way you sounded and when you tried to speak German it made him all giddy for some reason

- couldn’t contain himself around you he was always laughing at your jokes and smiling so hard when you talked to him and he himself didn’t even know why

- wouldn’t stop complimenting you because he loved how happy you got when he did

- always positioned himself so he was touching you in someway be it your thighs being smushed against his when sitting down or his arm slung over the sofa to play with you hair

- sat with you even after the game was over not caring how his band mates were snickering at him

- he loves your accent it’s his new favorite thing

- you always caught him staring into your soul while you were speaking with the interviewer (he doesn’t know how mean he looks pls forgive him)

- fans got butterflies on how he would just randomly stare at you for a few minutes before looking back at whoever was talking

- Tom said you looked like a tomato the whole time and wouldn’t stop making fun of you and bill had to smack some sense into him (literally) to get him to stop

- during the middle of the interview some random questions were asked and he saw how quick you got weirded out

- was annoyed the rest of the time, he was sitting there giving the interviewer the biggest stank eye ever while talking to you

- He’s good at making ppl look stupid I just know it

- The interviewer would ask him something and he’d be like “Idk, what do you think?😐”

- his manager had to tell him to get his act together bc ppl were starting to notice💀

- when the interview ended you made your way out to the balcony to relax before you had to leave to the hotel

- You didn’t notice Bill had rushed off to follow you until you heard the emergency exit door being pushed open

- he looked around the small balcony until he spotted you

- His face lit up when he saw you 😕 to -> 😃

- he waved as he jogged over to you

- he tried to apologize for the questions but it came out more in German than English but you understood

- You smiled and looked up at him with heavy eyes before puffing some smoke out of your nose and telling him it was “whatever”

- He was practically drooling over you he thought you looked so pretty

- the way your eyes looked with that lazy smile on your face was doing something for him

- But he just smiled like he understood what you said before grabbing the blunt from you and taking a drag

- He coughed

- so much

- it was nighttime and dark so he thought it was a cigarette and quickly found out it wasn’t

- “you, okay?”

- “Ja! 😊” (He’s not okay)

- it was fine though you both laughed and made fun of the incident after

- he was basically caging you between the chain fence with his body (I’m going crazy) without noticing

- When he finally did the blunt was dying down and you were gazing at the stars while he gazed down at you

- “I wanna kiss you so bad right now”

- you just stared at him with the sweetest smile he’s ever seen because you didn’t understand what he was saying

- if you knew the things you did to him oh my god

- before you put out the joint you shot gunned some smoke into his lips and that seemed to finally pushed him over the edge

- when he kissed you he tried to be slow n soft but it escalated quickly bc he has no self control with you

- he’s a lightweight and was so out of it, eyes droopy and everything

- so noisy with it to, gasping into your lips the whole time when your fingers even slightly grazed his skin

- had his hands tangled in the fence and his knee pushed up inbetween your legs to rub against you

- rutting himself into your thigh while making out (dude’s starved)

- since he was so much taller he was basically hunching over to reach you

- everywhere you touched all you could feel was him and it made you so dizzy

- whined into you neck the whole time, he couldn’t get enough of you, wanted all his senses to be filled up with you

- “Want you, need…need you. Need to feel all of you”

“Name please- need you now, please I’ll be good”

- makes his brain all fuzzy and he can’t think when you kiss him

- gets out of breath so fast bc he’s so overstimulated but doesn’t wanna stop so it leads to him panting like a dog in heat

- he’s never had it so bad for someone like he had it for you

- grins into the kiss when you notice his tongue piercing

- you had your arms around his neck to bring him down to your level and played with a hair for a second and his eyes rolled back and he let out the most pornographic moan you’ve ever heard and had no shame abt it

- kept doing it when he noticed how heated you got from it

- forgets how to function when making out w/ you

- got a little to frisky and you had to stop him before you went to far and risked being caught

- your manager was so frustrated with you both when he found out but you both just giggled and ran off to go do it again

- if you googled ‘dumb teens in love’ you two would show up as the definition

- you hung out with him and the other three the rest of the time you were in Germany

- you and Tom scare him all the time and he’s so extra abt it

- Screams, then gasps for air, and then pats down his body to make sure he didn’t ascend before glaring at you both and throwing whatever’s nearest to him at you

- the media loves you guys together

- some thought the relationship was fake because you guys were just that couple

- He helps you learn German and you help him learn English

- literally started bawling into your neck when you had to leave a few weeks later

- whined abt how you should “just move in with him bc it’d be easier”

- travels to America lots but mostly pays for you to come out to Germany because he thinks it’s easier

- always calling and texting each other when your both free

- go to each others concerts to support one another (so cute!)

- so many pictures of one of you at the others concerts cheering for them in the crowd

[nerdieforpedro]

We have two Wavelengths

Din Dajrin x plus size female reader

This blog overall is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2k

Summary: You and Din have grown closer since you’ve joined the Razor Crest. A trip to his coven is rather informative and inspires some new thoughts.

Warnings: Two nervous people, maybe a sort of interrogation, we're still all about the hands, actual good advice?, forehead bumps are scandalous!, so are dreams at times, Nerdie is not serious with these tags

Notes: Paz Vizla and The Armorer make an appearance! ☺️ Are they helpful? Maybe. We’ll see.

Main Masterlist/ Din Djarin Masterlist/ Our Journey Across The Star Ocean Series

He told me to call him Din six months ago. Things changed then. For one, I finally knew his name. It’s…fun to say. I’m not sure what that means, I don’t think I say in a weird way, it’s just after calling him ‘Mando’ for so long it’s so good to know his actual name. We’ve been holding hands when sitting in the cockpit together, often without his gloves on. I’m not exactly sure how important that is, but it holds some significance given he’s normally covered head to toe. Even when we make stops to refuel or for different jobs, Din normally has a hand gloved or not on me somewhere. I thought I would be a lot more nervous about the more public display, but I enjoy it. I wonder how I can show him how I feel too, wait how do I feel? 

I mean he did buy me a new work apron (I couldn’t stitch my old one back together. The different patches were coming apart.) and a sort of vest he said to wear when we’re going after bounties. He came back with it a month after we visited ‘The Armorer.’ The name sounds ominous, but she was very kind and had a booming laugh. I feel like if there was ever a time I could picture Din’s helmet turning red with embarrassment, it was when she asked him if I was his ‘riduur (wife/partner).’ That’s clearly something else important because he looked at me while answering and said, “we haven’t discussed anything about that yet. She has equal say in it.” Maybe it means like a full partner in bounty hunting endeavors or something. The way she chuckled makes me think she was teasing him a bit. I thought his body language would only be that stiff around Peli. But he eventually loosened back up in calling me over to shake hands with her. Grogu knows The Armorer well as he jumped in her arms and patted her golden helmet. She planned to take measurements of me and told Din to go check in with someone named Paz. He didn’t seem enthused about this at all but did as she asked.

“You know his true name I assume. This denotes a high level of trust in you.” Walking around me, her head tilted back and forth. “You have been traveling with him for a little under a year, yes?” I nodded to her question and held my arms out as she took a measuring tape off the wall of her forge. “You know not what is under his armor, correct?”

“He’s never removed his helmet in front of me. He would never do that.” It’s a slight sting when I say it, but it’s one of the essential tenets of his creed so even if I’d love if he did, I’d never ask him to do something like that. I feel her touch the blaster on my hip before going to scribble something down and returning to take more measurements.

“Djarin gave you this did he not? Has he given you anything else?” The Armorer sounds genuinely curious with this question. I nodded and told her about my new work apron he recently got for me and a dark green scarf to tie my hair back when I’m out and about. But Grogu normally plays with it and likes to sleep with it sometimes, so I have a yellow one he got me as well as a backup. She’s stroking the bottom of her helmet where I assume her chin might be. “I shall create something for you. You are welcome back here anytime. I will let Djarin know of this as well. Oh! Take this.” She hands me a retractable knife that looks just like Din’s armor. I know what material that is.

“Ma’am this is beskar. I’m not…I can’t take this. It’s only for Mandalorians right?” I’m starting to wonder if she’s testing me, like would you accept something you know you’re not supposed to have just because Din was cool with bringing you here? Hmm? Her laugh fills all the space in her forge, and she claps her hand on my shoulder.

“Consider it a welcome gift my dear. The fact that you’re here already means you have been accepted. Not quite the same as us given our different ways, but I can tell you mean no ill will. Most critical - you respect and care for him and his foundling deeply. If you did not, you’d have met my hammer swiftly.” I feel equal parts relieved and frightened. Din returns with a towering Mandalorian in navy blue beskar. The armor varies greatly, and I wonder if the colors are just personal preference or have other meanings. The navy-blue armor nods in my direction and leaves back down the hallway. The Armorer whispers one more thing to me before picking up Grogu who’s been playing with a dome on the ground. It could be a shield, or shoulder pad? No, the right name for it was…pauldron! “When you get back to the ship and before you rest for your next journey, tap your forehead to the top of Djarin’s helmet. You’ll be wishing him to get you all to your destination safely.” I could hear the smile as she instructed me, and she’s gone to meet Din near a wall of weapons he’s looking through. I feel like that holds significance as well, but again I don’t know what. I’m going to need to add all these to the notes I’ve been keeping about Mandalorian culture.

My vest the Armorer made me had a small gold wrench symbol over the left chest where the entirety of the armor was silver like Din’s. It’s so beautiful but heavy so I needed help putting it on and taking it off for a while until I got more used to it. Din still offered to help me put it on sometimes, so I let him, it’s also another time he doesn’t wear his gloves so I feel his hands on my shoulders and arms. 

I did as The Armorer told me that day when we got back to the ship. Grogu was in his bassinet near my cot. I told Din to get some rest himself and held his hand like I normally do before I leave. This time, I closed my eyes and leaned down to touch my forehead to his cool beskar. I lingered for a few extra seconds and didn’t realize that I had placed my other hand on his breastplate. “Good night Din. Don’t forget to rest too. You’re going to show me some of the basic controls one of these days so you can sleep too.” I bid him goodnight and went off to sleep, recalling his humming. He normally does that when he’s pleased so it was worth feeling a little silly.

Maker I think I’ve done a bit too much. Not that I didn’t want to, I actually want to do more. I’d like to give her the same type of hug Grogu does after one of his naps, snuggled up against her. But I can’t, well I could, but I might set off all the sensors in my armor if I do that. Things have been going smoothly. Her work apron had seen much better days so I got her a new one that’s much more durable and of better quality. This combined with the blaster and two scarves is quite a bit, I’ve pretty much proposed. I’m investing in her, she’s my…well partner for now. We’ve been together nearly a year, that’s enough time. I’ve seen outside of Mandalorian culture I’m supposed to get a ring for her. Figuring the size will be easy. I’ve decided to take her with me on my next delivery of beskar to the coven. 

Every other time, I hate Paz. With the burning passion of The Armorer’s forge when she melts down the beskar I bring, but on this single matter. The mir’sheb (smartass) is right. I told him how our interactions had been so far, exchanges and the like. 

“Sounds like you haven’t really told her anything and have just been giving her stuff without context dumbass. She’s not one of us, how is she supposed to know?” I hate that this nerf herder is correct. I need to have an actual conversation with her about everything. “Has she seen your face Din? You aren’t so far gone that you forgot that, did you?”

“No she has not. She respects the creed. She’s never asked me to do anything to dishonor it.” I had gone with Paz to visit some members of the coven whom I hadn’t seen for a while. We weren’t particularly close, but it’s always best to say hello at least. I’m not sure what conversation The Armorer would have wanted to have with her, but it shouldn’t be bad. I think. 

“It sounds like you’ve found someone you should keep by your side then. Just talk to the woman. If she’s stuck around you this long, it’s in your favor that she’s not going anywhere. Since you already gave her one weapon, you can give another one that suits her along with one of those rings you see those basic humans wear.” Paz snorts and Din hits him on his shoulder. “Calm down Djarin. I didn’t say she was basic. I was referring to non-Mandalorians. You’ve always been so sensitive.” Rounds around the coven went quickly and we were back in the forge where it seemed they had been discussing something important. After getting a new weapon from The Armorer and her telling me to stop back by in a month, we left. I’d already had her hand in mine on our way out. They should know here too that she’s with me. That’s what the ring would be for, wouldn’t it? We picked up some more supplies and headed for the ship. 

Grogu took some rounds of ‘hide the shiny ball’ to settle down to sleep. I was able to sit with cyar’ika (beloved) without interruption. I told her about checking in at the covent and expressed that I’d like her to walk around with me the next time we have beskar to drop off. She expressed that she would and I placed my hand on her knee. A bit forward on my part, but she placed her hand over mine and stood up. I thought she was going to tell me about what her and The Armorer discussed but she told me to get more rest. She’s normally telling me that. I’m used to functioning on less sleep, but I’ve trained myself to wake when I hear odd noises. Until I got used to Grogu’s sounds, I didn’t sleep much the first few months I had him. 

I should have pulled her close and held her. I’m not sure if she knows what the touching of foreheads really means in Mandalorian culture, but she wished me to get some sleep and said something about the controls before she left. In the minute (or maybe longer), she held her forehead to the area above my T-visor. One of her hands is in mine and the other is on my chest. This new level of closeness - I’m not going to let it go. I’m finding I'm so greedy when it comes to her, in a way that I haven’t been, even with the care I provide to my foundling Grogu. I’m humming with glee, at least I think that’s my armor. It could be me, I’ll do diagnostics later.

The dream I have later that night when I fold my arms and wrap my cape around myself to doze off. 

She’s given me another forehead bump, but I’m bold this time and put my arms around her wide hips, pulling her close to press my T-visor into her soft stomach, easing her to sit on my lap. Just having her lean against me, now her cheek pressed against the side of my helmet. I call her cyar’ika while she calls me Din. I hear her say it repeatedly, while I place my hand on her thigh, keeping her in place. 

If she does it again, I’ll definitely pull my mesh’la (beautiful) close like in my dream. We’ll figure out the communication later, I just want to dream right now.

Part Two

Part Four

Space Buddies 🚀: @maggiemayhemnj @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @missladym1981 @morallyinept @bishtrouille

@sherala007 @yorksgirl @daddy-dins-girl @604to647 @megamindsecretlair

@anoverwhelmingdin @theincredibleinkspitter @alltheglitterandtheroar @mrsmando @drawingdroid

@harriedandharassed @i-own-loki @lady-bess @pedroshotwifey @thefrogdalorian

@ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @jessthebaker @connectioneverywhere @grogusmum

[lucyandthepen]

a lesson on style - vi . [ ljn | njm ]

pt. i, pt. ii, pt. iii, pt. iv., pt. v, pt. vi

you’ve always been content with being associated with one word and one word only: average. average in looks, academics and social skills, you’re just looking to graduate high school without causing disasters you’ll have to live with until you kick the bucket. when you’re paired with school king lee jeno for the semester-long physics thesis, you can’t help but think the entire situation has pretty much set itself up for failure. that is, until you strike a deal with your partner. 

alternatively: an au tale involving lessons in popularity, eleven consecutive B­ minuses, a secretly sensitive, chess­-loving jock, and an amateur sex tape.

pairing: jeno x fem!reader, jaemin x fem!reader verse: high school au { jocks!nomin ft. a super cute whiny ap physics genius renjun } rating: M chapter warnings: none word count: 8.1k

author’s note: this was actually supposed to go on for a lot longer but... it might've reached a solid 13-15k and i just thought it would be better to split it into half-ish, so nothing major happens, although i definitely enjoyed yet another mc/jaemin real talk session that i also hope you enjoy! :^)

tagging: @justalildumpling, @spiderrenjunfics (no longer available, please give me your new url if you're still interested!)

You think now is as good a time as any for you to say something that’ll easily impact the trajectory of your life forever; after all, Jeno’s essentially given you the floor after such a strange and honestly shocking turn of events. You’re aware of the fact that his thumb is still traveling across your cheek, more idle as an action than anything else, but you seem to be experiencing the feeling as something closer to an out-of-body experience than an actual first-hand one; the tingles they send to your heart are weird and blurry, like your body can’t process his touch well enough to understand it fully. You suppose it’s because of your confusion at what he’s saying, which leads to your second option: asking him what he means. 

There’s little to interpret at face value, but what his words do is essentially unlock a torrent of other weird questions in your head. For instance: how long had he known that you liked him? Had he known this entire time? Did something you did make it painfully obvious? If he wants you to like him — and, as he says, only him — does that mean he’s essentially accepting your feelings? Does this mean… he likes you back? 

You assume this is one of those moments where, because your mind is going a million miles a minute, a lot of time feels like it’s passed even though it’s just been a small handful of seconds. This assumption is quickly broken by Jeno’s expression of concern. 

“_______________? Say… something.”

“Um,” you start before you can even figure out what you want to say. The easiest answer comes to mind: It’s always only been you. But that’s weird, and this isn’t a 90’s Western movie, and if it were, you certainly wouldn’t be the eloquent main romance interest, even if Jeno’s gaze could easily fool you into thinking that. You think about making a joke, but you’re befuddled and also fresh from tears that — if Jeno’s abrupt story is actually true — were totally useless and unfounded in nature. 

Also, you’re really not that funny to begin with.  

“I just…” you try again, and his eyebrows raise slightly in anticipation for your next words. Nothing else comes out after a few seconds, though, and he realizes this is just another false start, his hand falling onto your shoulder (maybe he’s tired of trying to coax it out of you with the thumb-on-cheek method, which admittedly had you clamping up more than anything else). 

“You can just tell me how you really f—”

“I think I have to go.” 

No. No. Why would you say that? The surprise on his face quickly morphs into something that looks almost crestfallen, an expression you’d never imagine seeing on bright, confident Lee Jeno, let alone ever be the cause of. His hand slips from your shoulder quickly, like he’s now worried touching you will electrocute him. 

“Oh. I’m sorry — I didn’t… mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m… I’m not.” You’re not, are you? “Maybe a little, but it isn’t really you —”

“Something I said, then—?”

“No, I…” Your fingernail digs into the pad of your thumb, with you trying to use the sting of the pain to jolt you out of this nervous, inarticulate state. “I just don’t think… I have anything of value to say right now.”

“What makes you think that?” 

“Because…” Grappling for words is like trying to break through the surface of water; you’re almost there, but somehow you’re still floundering, and that only seems to be making it much worse. “Because I never really thought about what I’d do… if you really found out I liked you.” 

When you say it, it suddenly makes sense. For some reason, you’d always lived your life shuttling between point A (liking Jeno quietly in the comfort of your own mind palace) and point Z (fantasizing about your life with him where you live in a quaint townhouse with a cute mailbox and three kids), but you’d never really given much thought to all the points in between, especially not one that contains a scenario in which he’d find out and seemingly be okay with it, which, based on the current conversation, somehow seems like a reasonable thing to assume about him. 

You’ve always wanted it — him knowing, him accepting it, maybe even him liking you back —  but it kind of felt like, deep down, you hadn’t really believed it would ever happen. 

And you were kind of content with that, because you wouldn’t ever really have to deal with the complications of it. Right now, you’re feeling unprepared and a little exposed, weirdly vulnerable to his gaze. It once again, for the hundredth time tonight, it seems, triggers some kind of flight instinct in you that has you looking anywhere but at him all of a sudden. 

“You can think about it… now,” he suggests carefully. Being put on the spot doesn’t really ever bring out the best in you — a fact that might be known to people who were actually paying attention to your failed impromptu speech about whale hunting in your sixth grade English class — so you just pretend that the silhouette of Jaemin’s front yard tree is supremely interesting to you all of a sudden, never mind the fact that it’s about a few inches from Jeno’s ear from your vantage point. You don’t really want to see his expression right now, especially if that means it’ll only fluster you back into speechlessness. 

“I don’t really know if I can,” you admit. From your peripheral vision, you see what seems like a flash of discomfort pass across Jeno’s face; you’re sure you just imagined it, considering you’ve never imagined cool, aloof, king of your heart Lee Jeno as exuding anything other than utmost confidence. Still, his next words do make you question that notion twice over. 

“Did I… misunderstand something? Is it that you don’t have feelings for me?” 

“No, I… you know. I… yeah, I do, but I just —”

“You’re seeing someone else?” 

“No,” you say more fiercely, and for a brief moment, you’re so appalled at the thought that your eyes flicker to his, which ends up being a terrible mistake because the confusion in his gaze is so profound that the guilt in you swells tenfold. 

“Because I thought… maybe the reason Renjun and you —”

“He’s — honest to God — he’s just my friend.” 

“And Jaemin is…?”

“My… next door neighbor?” You blink rapidly at the lights still coming from his house, wondering now what Jaemin has to do with all of this in the first place. For someone who seems like he would be extremely uninvolved in this general progress of events, he seems to crop up time and again, weirdly always around when you need someone. Maybe it’s a neighbor thing, or maybe he’s a little nosier than you thought. But thinking about another element in this situation is starting to give you a headache, and you’re way past the time you’re usually already in bed avoiding homework and watching shitty dating reality shows instead. “I don’t really understand what he has to do with this either. I just don’t think I’m prepared to have this conversation at all.”

“But you like me, don’t you?” 

It’s weird, actually, now that you think about it — why does he have to confirm the fact time and time again? It’s almost like he’s worried, although you can’t imagine why he would be. More than anything, you’d kind of assumed that he would find that information pretty repellent, but with the way he’s asking in earnest, it almost seems like he wants to keep the knowledge of that like a talisman. 

“I do,” you admit, mostly because it’s out in the open, but also partially because you’ve made the mistake of looking at him again, and you start wondering how he could even wonder when everyone seems to like him (you, perhaps, to a somewhat unhealthy degree). 

“More than them?” 

“I—” Your brow furrows, another wave of confusion washing over you. But his eyes are much too honest in their questioning, and you speak before anything else can come to mind. “More than anyone, Jeno.”

What looks oddly like relief settles on his face, and you notice only then that his shoulders have been tensed up because he seems to relax them all of a sudden. “Oh. Good. Great. So listen, now that we’re on the same page, I—”

Jeno’s interrupted by one of the guys in a university sweater calling out to him from across the two lawns, voice booming to a degree that sets off a few annoyed dogs in your area. Jeno raises a hand to signal him to wait, his mouth still open on whatever words he wanted to complete his sentence with, but the sounds he was trying to make quickly die into silence anyway, drowned out by a huge crash inside Jaemin’s house. 

You’re not entirely certain of what he wants to say — on the bright side, he could have been ramping up to a point that could easily make all your dreams from middle school to now a perfect reality, but he also could have been setting you up for some kind of grand, embarrassing failure — not by his design or by malice but just by the pointing out of the fact that you two lead different lives and things would likely never work out, anyway, but it’d be cool that you liked him in your own time, and he’d allow it as long as you didn’t get drool all over his notebook in class. 

Either way, you don’t think now, with a bunch of inebriated college people shouting profanities on Jaemin’s lawn and a gaggle of high school kids panicking about what sounds to be a broken table and a whole bunch of pizza on the floor, is the best time to be processing those things.

“I actually,” Jeno turns his gaze to you again, strangely alert, like you’d just whistled for a dog’s attention. You’ve never seen him like this, and it’s weird to think that, at this awkward moment, you can still find him painfully endearing. You have to shake yourself out of the grip of the already beckoning force that tells you to sigh dreamily about how adorable he is. “Think I should really be heading inside. Looks like they also need you for some kind of damage control, anyway.”

The same college kid calls for Jeno again, dragging out the vowels of his name kind of annoyingly. Jeno sighs, nodding slowly enough for you to know he’s caught on — this probably isn’t the right time to have such a weirdly heavy conversation.

“Yeah. I probably need to help clean up, anyway. No one’s going to want to do it, and Jaemin’s already chewed me out for bailing on mop duty a few times.”

“Why’d you bail?” 

“Just… got busy, personally.” He looks sheepish, and it doesn’t take a bunch of lightbulbs going off for you to cotton on as well. Now, you’re just wishing you hadn’t asked, so you didn’t ever have to imagine it. Still, what’s done is done. You have to focus on keeping the discomfort out of your face this time. “Um… that’s not important, though. Anyway —I’ll talk to you soon, okay, ________________? Like… maybe we can catch up at school? You know, talk about our thing — the project, I mean — and like… et cetera?”

“Yeah, for sure.” Your smile’s weak, and so is your joke, but you should at least try to hold up casual pretenses as much as he does, even though he’s obviously much better at it. “I’ll tell on you to Hwang if you don’t, you know.” 

His laugh is soft, but it at least sounds genuine; his smile still reaches his eyes, which already makes your heart feel a little lighter. But instead of trekking off immediately, he lingers, strangely, until his grin winnows down into just the ghost of a smile on his lips. Even weirder are his hands, slightly outstretched towards your waist, like he’s trying to cross the gap between you (even if it’s admittedly very minimal) but suddenly decides not to. The result is him looking strangely stiff and uncharacteristically hesitant, but you chalk it up to him simply not knowing how to end such a weirdly situated conversation. You know you’d have an even worse time doing it if it were up to you, so you can’t really blame him. 

In the end, he closes the dialogue with ‘see you around, ________________,’ and a quick pat on the shoulder, which, if you think about it, seems a little disappointingly different from when he’d had his hand against your cheek a few minutes ago. Then again, you’re not sure you could handle something like that again, anyway. 

You watch him walk off back towards Jaemin’s house, and some pitiful, pathetic part of you is expecting him to look back, say one last goodbye to you, or something, but the university guy that had belted his name out so vigilantly just swings an arm around Jeno’s neck and drags him to a corner where a bunch of other similarly dressed people, to whom Jeno starts talking to almost immediately. 

Cutting this conversation short was probably for the best, anyway; you have no idea what he would have said, but you’re very sure you wouldn’t have been prepared for it either way. You trudge into your house and up into your room, already mentally prepared to spend the rest of the night obsessively mulling over what it all meant and what he had really been planning to say at the end. The process starts some time in the shower, while you’re shampooing your hair and you embarrassingly remember the feeling of Jeno’s hand tangled in it. The moony expression that the thought of it leaves on your face is present up until you see how stupid it looks in the fogged up bathroom mirror. 

Renjun still hasn’t texted you, which is honestly starting to be a source of mild anxiety because you can’t be sure if he’s dead in a ditch somewhere or just ignoring you for some unknown reason. Whatever it is, you leave like three messages wondering where he’s at and asking him to call you. You’re on your fourth message, which is asking to confirm about tomorrow’s movie (something you’d almost forgotten about save for the fact that you’d remembered this would be a point of argument for you both once again if you spaced on it) when a notification pops up that once again gives you a heart attack. 

Lee Jeno: u looked pretty tonight, btw :) 

You: oh!! thank you…!

You: you looked great tonight too…! :) 

Lee Jeno: haha… cute :) 

Lee Jeno: goodnight, ____________ :) 

This is the most emojis you’ve ever seen used in a single brief conversation, and you can’t help but feel like it might be a little juvenile, but it doesn’t even matter because Lee freaking Jeno called you pretty and cute in the span of five minutes. Your thumbs are shaking as you type back a typo-laden goodnight that takes you a full other minute just to edit before waiting a little more, but nothing else comes. Maybe he’s driving home, or something. You toss your phone onto your bed, away from easy reach, before you can start overthinking what this silence means again. 

Your reflection in your window mirrors the same scene you’d encountered in the bathroom: you, hair bundled up in a wet towel, bare-faced with a stupid grin across it. You’re so caught up in the act of reeling from Jeno’s three texts that you belatedly notice a square of light beyond your bedroom window. You almost duck out of sight when you see a shadow there, thinking about crying bloody murder, until you realize it’s Jaemin, who’s watching the ridiculous expression on your face with a curious gaze from a distance. He’s still in the same clothes he’d worn to the party, but you can see, even from this far away, that there’s this dark patch on it that looks suspiciously close to the way your shirt had on the day his coke had emptied itself out on your back. That must’ve been from the crash earlier, you deduce. 

You think he’s just zoning out facing in your direction, and you find there’s no need to meet his gaze, but there’s still something a little unsettling about having someone spacing out in your general direction, so you reach up to pull your blinds down. Your hand almost reaches the string, but Jaemin’s hand suddenly starts going up too, like it’s trying to follow you, and you freeze in your movements. His keeps going, though, up until it’s close to his face, and suddenly, he’s moving it side to side, in some weird regular pattern.

He’s waving, your tired, overworked brain tells you belatedly. The string of your blinds tickles the tip of your fingers. 

Unsure and a little self-conscious, you wave back, hoping he doesn’t notice that you were about two strong pulls away from drawing yourself out of sight. This is clearly the right response, because even from this distance, you can see the brilliant white of his teeth as he smiles, fully and unabashedly, at you. 

The first thing you do when you wake up the following morning is check your phone. You’re not even really sure what you’re looking for — maybe a text from Jeno, who, if you think about it now, probably has nothing to say in response to your boring ‘goodnight’ anyway (but you can still dream), or maybe a missed call or two from Renjun, who should at least be offering you some explanation as to why he was completely out of sight after parting ways with you and Mark Lee last night. 

Unfortunately, there’s nothing on your screen, apart from the stupid 번장 notification that tells you the pocket punch board you’ve been wanting for no good reason has been discounted by the seller to a price you still can’t reasonably afford anyway. 

You certainly can’t do anything about Jeno’s lack of contact, and to be completely honest with yourself, you’re not even really that sure if you want to. Something about yesterday’s conversation, while not exactly a train wreck, makes you very nervous to have a full conversation with him, and you’d much rather it stick to very basic, kindergarten-level things, like ‘you look cute’ and ‘haha’ and ‘:)’, but since that isn’t completely in your control, you decide you simply don’t want to do anything about it.

Renjun, however, is a completely different matter. You don’t understand why he’s ignoring you if he is, considering you had spent the better part of the night (at least, the parts during which you weren’t crying on your lawn) looking for him, so this silence, if deliberate, doesn’t seem fair or even reasonable. You decide that it’s much too early to be getting an earful from you in the end, so you just send a very emphatic ‘WRU?????????????????’ through both text message, KakaoTalk, and Facebook Messenger to him, hoping the repetition of both sentiment and punctuation mark through multiple platforms is enough to faux-yell to him what you’d otherwise be real-yelling to him over the line. You can’t tell if it gives you any sense of comfort to see he hasn’t been online and active for the last 15 hours. 

All the tossing and turning of last night, courtesy of the endless loop replay of “I want you to like me — just me” Lee Jeno edition, had consequently left you worse for wear; you’d gotten up at the rising of the sun (something you’d sworn never to do during the weekend) and had opted to just stay in bed for another hour, trying so hard to get over the feeling of his fingers against your skin that you end up committing it to long-term memory. The sunlight peeking through your blinds is what gets you to throw off your covers and admit defeat to the fact that sleep would never come back at this rate, and you decide to just head down, rubbing the lethargy out of your eyes before you make a poor man’s breakfast. You’re halfway through the jelly slice of your sandwich when your sister comes through the doorway, yawning loud to announce her presence. 

“G’morning, bedhead baby,” she greets, and you use the non-knife-holding hand you have free to rake through your hair. “Big rager last night, huh?” 

“Yeah — wait, how’d you know?” 

“We live a door down from Jaemin oppa’s house? Na Jaemin? Our next door neighbor and his whole family? We can see out the window into his lawn? Sometimes we get our sidewalk trash cans mixed up with theirs? Hello?” Sooyeon smirks, albeit a little sluggishly, as you wave her grating words away. “I saw you out there with him, you know.”

“With who? Where? Who?” You demand, your jelly-laden knife freezing in mid-air, the grape blobs slipping dangerously off the edge onto the middle of your bread.

“You. And Jaemin oppa,” she says each syllable slowly. “In front of our house.” 

“Oh.” 

“So usually how these conversations go is: I bring up a juicy piece of information pertaining to you, and because you experienced it first hand, you have to then expound on the piece of information, thereby making it juicier. ‘Oh’ doesn’t cut it. Not by a long shot.” 

“There’s not much to tell.” You wonder, briefly, if you’re now obligated to bring up the Jeno aspect of the night — which, for all intents and purposes, honestly felt like more of a big deal than anything else — but you quickly decide against it, chickening out when she approaches you at the counter and starts unscrewing the lid of the peanut butter jar. That might be giving too much away, considering she didn’t even seem to notice that you’d been bawling when you’d crossed the property line. “He just walked me back here.”

“Oh, yeah, because that’s what people who live next to each other in a not-so-close-knit community do: walk each other two steps home, to keep the baddies away.” 

“He’s just a naturally nice person, I think. Most people are, aren’t they?”

“I thought you guys were close. Didn’t he give you his varsity jacket? That sounds like a closeness thing.” She knots her index and middle finger together, and you slap it away. 

“We’re close only in the same way as you are.” When she gives you a quizzical look, you sigh. “Proximity-wise.” 

“Still doesn’t explain why he was out there, caressing your hair lovingly.”

You freeze, as opposed to Sooyeon’s comically relaxed posture as she scrapes the peanut butter across your other slice of bread. “He… was not. Caressing me. My hair. Lovingly.”

“I have eyes for the sake of seeing.”

“There was just something in it. In my hair. A leaf.” 

You’re not sure why you lie; the largest part of the reason is that you don’t want to have to go into the horrifyingly awkward details of your emotional state last night, but there’s something oddly nagging at you that you can’t quite place. It takes a minute of staring at your sister spreading the peanut butter evenly across the bread and humming to herself while closing the sandwich up that you realize that you don’t want her getting the wrong impression about anything.

Which is weird, because there’s nothing to misunderstand. 

Jaemin, albeit the fact that he’s been chattier to you as of late, more so than any other time in your life, is still just your neighbor. Maybe he’s graduated from being your sort-of acquaintance to something that vaguely resembles an arm-distance-ish friend, but the notion that you’re anything closer than that makes you feel a bit strange — almost like it… scares you, which is extra weird to think about, because there’s actually nothing inherently harmful about being casual buddies with some guy who lives close enough to wave at you from his window. 

Maybe it’s because it’s Jaemin, and that’s what might be tripping you up the most. He’s not just Jeno’s friend; he’s practically some kind of counterpart to him, and it feels weirdly like a line you can’t cross. Or maybe it’s because… Jeno had asked you about him last night, which had made you feel even stranger. Like he’d been worried about something — like Jaemin was a no-go zone for him, specifically. 

As you dully watch your sister take a bite off of your breakfast, it dawns on you: maybe you just don’t want people to think you like anyone other than Jeno. 

“Okay, well, you know better than I do,” she singsongs in a tone that tells you that you actually don’t. Sooyeon doesn’t press, but she also doesn’t make you feel like the conversation is over — even if she trills I’m going back up; thanks for the sandwich in that same voice before leaving you alone in the kitchen with half of it on the plate. 

Because the truth is that you don’t really know; you don’t know what’s so unsettling about being associated with Jaemin. Your sister’s not aware of the intricate ins and outs of your (delusional) relationship with Jeno, apart from your (apparently evident to everyone) crush on him, but you also know she’s not really deeply invested in where your heart lies; all she does is make conversation, as is her personality, as a form of bonding you’ve never really quite been able to navigate well. 

You just don’t get why the mention of Jaemin, now, makes you feel… something. What that is, you’d rather not dwell on. So you just won’t. 

You’re walking out of the kitchen, cheeks filled with peanut butter and jelly, when you see block letters on cloth, spelling out a familiar last name: Na. 

You still haven’t given back Jaemin’s stupid jacket. 

Today is the day, you decide. This seems to have started the whole conversation to begin with: the jacket that somehow brought Jaemin two steps closer into your life, the article of clothing that had opened the door to what shouldn’t even be a talking point between you and anyone else. 

This should be the proverbial swan song for this whole topic; you snatch up his jacket (and immediately regret doing so in such a brutish manner, noticing you’ve got a few specks of breadcrumbs on the lettering) and head out of your house, your bedroom slippers absorbing morning dew as you march yourself over to your neighbor’s. You should’ve done this earlier, really; there was no reason for you to hold on to it. 

Honestly, you’d just forgotten, given that you were more preoccupied with things that started with L and ended with ee Jeno, but you’d rather not extend any more misunderstandings. 

And even if Jeno isn’t here to see this grand closing gesture, maybe, just maybe, this will help you stop feeling so cagey about everything he’d asked last night. 

I want you to like me — just me. 

Because why would he even think you liked Jaemin at all? Or make it sound like he thought you did? Ridiculous. Unfounded. Kind of alarming. 

There’s noise in the air the closer you get to the Na household porch; it sounds a bit muffled, like it’s fighting the breeze, but you realize thereafter that it’s music coming from a tiny speaker sitting on the hand railing. It’s playing Dongbangshinki’s Here I Am, and something about that song stirs your stomach into swooping ten miles down as you approach. 

Your initial plan was to ring the doorbell and pray that Jaemin was still knocked out cold on a Saturday morning so you could pass the jacket off to one of his parents and be done with it, but you’ve no such luck; it seems like he’s an early riser, considering how he’s seated right there, on a wicker chair by his door, hunched over a half-played chess board. There’s no one across him to block his view of you coming up the steps, and he looks up the moment he hears the creaks of the wood under your feet. 

“Hey, ______________,” he doesn’t look surprised; in fact, he looks a bit relieved, for some inexplicable reason. “Didn’t think you’d be up so early.”

“Could say the same for you.” You have no idea what causes heat to flush across your cheeks; has Na Jaemin’s gaze always been this intense? “Um. Good morning?”

“Morning.” His laugh is an easy one; it always has been, and it kind of suits him, you note, before you realize how weird it is to think that. “What’ve you got there? Gift for me?” 

“Wha — oh, yeah, I mean — no, but it is for you.” You hold up his jacket, hooked on your forefinger, to reveal it to him. “Sorry it took so long to give it back.”

This time, he actually looks a bit taken aback. “Did you stop needing it?” 

“Um… I haven’t really used it, if I’m being honest.”

“Oh. Well, there wasn’t any rush. You could’ve kept it for as long as you needed. No pressure, or anything. I’ve got others.”

“You don’t need it at practice, or anything like that?”

“No; most guys don’t even keep theirs. They give them away, for… you know. So it’s no big deal.”

You fall silent; for some reason, his tone makes it seem like he wants you to keep it, which is just preposterous. You instead hang the jacket onto the back of the wicker chair opposite him and step back, like you’ve just set up a land mine you’re afraid of detonating. 

“Well, thank you all the same. I really… appreciate your help. That day. You know.” You’re not sure why you can’t form any sentences long enough to signify you do actually belong in the same year level as him, but he at least doesn’t comment on your ineloquence.

Instead, he just stares for a bit, at the jacket and your retreating hand, before piping up over his music. 

“You wanna play a round?” 

“What? Oh, I’m…” You wave your hands aimlessly. “I���m not good at chess. Actually, I barely know the rules. Plus, you seem kind of busy playing against… your imaginary friend?”

He chuckles again. “Just playing myself.”

“Trying to outfox the old fox?”

“Sometimes it helps to know how you’d get out of a sticky situation you made by your own doing. Helps you see what your opponent sees when it all boils down to it.” He gestures again at the chair across him. “Humor me a little. It’s not as fun just talking to yourself.”

You hesitate for a second; you came here to return the jacket, and that much was done easily, albeit a little more awkwardly than you ever wanted to. Jaemin’s aura is laid back and friendly, but you’re not sure why you’re teetering on the edge of panic again. Jeno’s words seem to be echoing in your head.

And Jaemin is…?

Jaemin is your next-door neighbor, it’s true, but you can’t say that’s really your only point of connection; if it were, he wouldn’t be expectantly waiting for you to take the seat across from him. And when you look at his hand now, idle against the chessboard, you can’t say you aren’t thinking of the way it patted your hair soothingly the night before. All that does is make you wonder the exact same thing Jeno asked you. 

What is Jaemin to you? A friend, perhaps, and definitely a nice person — nice enough to help you out, keep you company during a few low points. He’s a person willing to listen to you, funny enough to lift your spirits, and genial enough to not break your fingers for returning his things way too late (a low bar, but a good one nonetheless). Na Jaemin is a good individual, with pretty good music taste (based on the fact that his playlist, trudging on next to him, is now playing H.O.T.’s Happiness), and a good disposition about him that seems to make no small amount of people gravitate towards him. 

But you don’t really want to dwell on what Jaemin is to you; more than that, you can only really be reminded of what he isn’t. 

He isn’t Jeno. 

And Jeno knows you like him; he’s not only noticed it but confirmed it multiple times in a single conversation. Surely, then, nothing else should matter to him — or, for that matter, to you. 

You swallow down the refusal and nod, trying not to read into the fact that Jaemin’s face lights up when you pull the chair back and settle down on it. 

“So let me get this straight; you don’t know how to play chess?”

“I know a couple of pieces go in weird directions,” you admit. “That’s about it.” 

“Perfect.” His long fingers drum against the wood of the table. “I’m going to whip you into competitive chess-playing shape, my young pupil.” 

What starts off as a casual, humor-filled lesson on the roles of each chess piece suddenly becomes an actual lecture; you’re not sure if Jaemin is getting a kick out of instructing a rookie like you on the different plays — which are infinite, a fact he’s drilled into you several times — or if he’s really just enthusiastic about the game (no, sorry, sport, since he’s chastised you about three times on this terminology already), but whatever the reason is, you have chess pounded into your brain for the better part of an hour. By the time he asks you to actually start playing against him, the sun’s fully up in the air and you’ve had to tie your hair up to keep it from sticking to your neck. 

“I’m glad you got home safe last night,” he hums, pushing his black pawn to meet yours in the middle of the board. The Italian Game, he called it — not to be confused with serenading someone over pasta, a different kind of Italian game. That had gotten a long laugh out of you. Your hands flit over the white pieces, unsure of your memory. You only respond when you’ve moved your bishop to the same row. 

“Well, it was a very long and tumultuous journey, but I managed, with some help.” 

His knight comes out next, smoothly and quickly; you pause, rubbing the back of your neck. Surely, there was something else he’d taught you? 

“What a chivalrous, ah, knight, that person must’ve been.” He raps a knuckle onto the table, starting you out of the act of racking your brain. “Perfect joke. Well-timed. Excellent chess pun. I think I deserve an award.”

“Does whooping my ass two moves into the game count as a prize?”

“I don’t want to rob you of the feeling of hope this early in the match. Take your time,” he chuckles, leaning back against the throw cushion behind him. He fiddles with the speaker, and the songs skip one by one, until he lands on a song you don’t know — some Japanese track that sounds suspiciously like an animation opening. It’s lively and admittedly a bit loud, and Jaemin hums to the guitar riffs with surprising accuracy. “Anything interesting happen when I left?”

You freeze for a moment, your fingers still hovering over your own knight in hesitation. You know what he’s asking, and for some reason, you’re tempted to tell him — then you remember that it actually isn’t really his business, and you don’t want to embarrass yourself. 

“Not really.” You feign casual disinterest as you move your knight above your pawn line; from here on out, you have no clue what to do. Jaemin, on the other hand, is so sure-footed about his own skills (which are infinitely more advanced than yours) that he doesn’t even take his eyes off you to look at the board as he moves his next piece. You’re stuck thinking about what to do again — in the game, that is. Not about his gaze, which you try to avoid. “Just, you know. Talked with Jeno for a bit. Nothing major.”

Nothing major to him, you remind yourself. To you, your entire world had just been flipped over onto its belly.

Jaemin hums again, this time in understanding, but you notice (from your very surreptitious glances of him) that this time, it seems like he’s choosing what to do. You think it’s for the game, but when he counteracts your own (poorly planned) move with a swift response from his own pieces, you get the odd feeling he’s trying to choose his words carefully. 

“Was it a conversation where you all got along?”

You hadn’t argued, but you’d never really thought about the whole stint long enough to classify it as good or bad. You supposed it wasn’t anything horrible in the end, although the fact that it had robbed you of precious hours of sleep wasn’t exactly the best outcome. But Jaemin’s not watching your expression now; he’s intently looking at the board, even if he’s not the one about to make the next move. 

You get the feeling he’s suddenly avoiding eye contact too, which is weird, because he’s never been one to shy away from looking you straight in the eye. For some reason, that makes you feel like he doesn’t want to hear an answer. 

“It was fine. Nothing… bad happened.” You know that’s true, but somehow you feel like it’s still not truth. “He explained… stuff. Who she was. Why it happened. Totally understandable stuff, I think.” 

You choose not to mention anything apart from that — that he’d asked you to like him, nor that he’d asked you about your relationship with Jaemin. More than deciding it wasn’t going to be anything contributive to the conversation at hand, you also just didn’t want to. 

Jaemin stays silent for a while; he moves his piece, then taps his queen — for some reason, he’s letting you know something about his next move. What it is, you haven’t puzzled out; it’s not like you know which direction he’d be taking, and even if you did, you’d surely not know how to respond to it, anyway. You guess he’s just throwing you a bone, but why he would, you also just don’t see the reason for. 

You’re pushing your pawn hesitantly diagonal to capture one of his when he speaks up again. 

“Did he tell you how it ended? With the two of them, I mean.”

He says it so calmly, capturing your bishop with his queen in the process, that you feel like you’re just talking about the weather and who won yesterday’s league basketball match. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, clearing your throat, but you only actually manage to shake your head. 

“She cheated on him. Some college guy that she met during her orientation; you know she’s older than him, right? He’s never dated seriously since then. I think he was really hung up on her for a while — until recently, that is. I think. He hasn’t been that close to many girls.” 

“That’s… that’s awful.” You’re not sure why Jaemin’s telling you this; it honestly feels illegal to know. “I didn’t think… anyone would. Cheat on him, I mean.” 

“Even good-looking bastards like him can have rotten luck.” Jaemin’s smile borders on wry. “I don’t know why she showed up, honestly. Word probably got around… but she probably just wanted to know what would happen if she stirred something up with him one last time. He likely didn’t see it coming.” 

You stare at the board, unsure of what to say. It makes sense, but something doesn’t really sit right with you either — why Jeno would let her come close to him at all, let alone allow her to completely eliminate the distance between his mouth and hers for longer than a second. Even thinking about it makes you want to throw up all over again. 

“But deep down, I don’t know if Jeno completely got over her.” Jaemin continues, snapping you out of your short trance. “For a while after, they kept in touch. I think they even tried to work it out, but… obviously, it wasn’t easy. Until now… I’m not really sure.” 

“Why,” you swallow hard. “Why… are you… why should I…”

“It’s not easy to be a player when you don’t know much about the game, is it?” He’s still staring at the board, but you get the sense that he isn’t just talking about chess. “Like I said, Jeno’s a pretty complicated guy. It’s not really my place to say anything, but…” Jaemin’s eyes flit upward for a second, and he offers you a small, almost pitying smile. “I think you need to know anyway.” 

“But it has nothing to do with me. His life… I mean, his ex, and stuff.”

“I’m not too sure about that. If you like him that much… doesn’t that just mean you want to be part of his life?” He topples a pawn of yours, but you barely register the clattering noise or the fact that he drags it unceremoniously off the board. “I think you should at least know what you’re getting into. Jeno hasn’t liked someone seriously for a while, but you seem… to be the opposite. How much do you actually know about what he’s like?”

You don’t know why that kind of hurts your feelings; maybe it’s just because you have to face some kind of truth about how you don’t know much about Jeno’s private life, as badly as you want to. You even have to hear about it from someone else — someone easily kicking your ass in a dumb chess match. 

“I think everyone has baggage,” you say slowly, pushing your rook forward. You realize it’s trapped behind two different pawns, so you’ve essentially backed the piece into its own corner. Jaemin doesn’t seem to care; he’s too busy executing what clearly is a ten-stage strategic win on the other side of the board. You don’t really care.

“That’s true,” he concedes, toppling your knight. “But some more than others, I think.” 

“If he wanted me to know, he would’ve told me, right? Yesterday, I mean.”

“That’s may also be true, although I can’t say that with absolute certainty.” He looks thoughtful, and the pause gives you a bit of reprieve — enough to make a bad move that you instantly regret the moment you put your one remaining bishop on a square. Something like amusement flickers across Jaemin’s face, but he doesn’t make a move immediately. “Do you know what makes chess such a great game? In my opinion, anyway.” 

“No?” The uncertainty in your voice is from a lack of understanding at the sudden shift in topic. 

“Whenever you play someone, you get to see what they’re like — what their priorities are, you know?” His finger lands on a rook, inching it back and forth with idle intent. “You see how their mind works, what they’re like when they’re winning or losing, and what they think of you. Check, by the way.” 

You’re silent as his rook captures your bishop, and he picks your fallen piece up and sets it aside with his growing pile of white. 

“I’ve actually asked Jeno to play with me a few times, just for the fun of it. Sore loser,” he laughs lightly, one hand reaching out to lower the volume of his music. You notice the opening bars of Winner’s Really Really come through moments before it’s toned down. “Doesn’t really know or care about the rules, but he really likes to win. That’s kind of what makes him the star player on the team, actually. He really hates being backed into a corner, but all that focus on winning kind of tunnels his vision sometimes. Leaves him open to some attacks from another angle. He really hates that — which is probably why we barely play chess together in the first place. Apart from the fact that he thinks it’s boring.” 

You’re staring at your pieces, now very pitifully winnowed down in number, and you feel stuck. You’re not sure what to do, but you’re pretty sure any move is going to make you look dumb in front of Jaemin, who’s clearly a pro — so much so that he seems to know what you’re going to do before you even decide yourself. 

“You know what I like about your playing style, though?” He interrupts your train of thought again. You look up from the board, bemused; you’ve just been struggling to humor him since your first move, and it obviously isn’t working, since he seems more invested in the conversation than in the game. “You’re just trying your best, even if you’re new at this — even if you think you’re going to lose.” 

“I just don’t want you to think I’ve forgotten everything you just said,” you respond, smiling weakly. 

“You can’t always predict what’s going to happen in a game, even if you know the pattern anyway. Isn’t that just natural about anything in life?”

“You seem to know, though,” you grumble, tugging on your ponytail. You throw in the only option you have left: pushing your queen in front of your king as a last line of defense. “You’re barely paying attention to the board.”

“It’s just constant practice — a lot of hard work on my part. I don’t mind the grind of it, if it gets me somewhere good in the end.” 

“So is that the kind of player you are? Just… a hard worker?” 

“Maybe. I like to look at things from every possible angle. I guess that’s why I like chess when most people find it a headache.” He picks up his queen, rolling it in his palm. “Although, I guess Jeno and I have one thing in common — as players, that is.”

“What’s that?”

“I also really hate to lose.” 

His queen knocks over your own with a pitiful clatter, taking its place on the board. When he picks up your piece, instead of adding it to his knockout count, he offers it to you. You take it gingerly, opting to focus more on it than on the soft smile that’s now playing on Jaemin’s lips. 

“Checkmate,” he announces lightly. “Good game, _____________. You’ve got the makings of a star player.” 

“You’re patronizing me, aren’t you?” You sigh as the two of you start resetting the board; you have to watch Jaemin’s pieces get rearranged to position your own. 

“Only a little bit. I see a lot of quiet drive in you.” 

You place the last of your pawns in a neat row; the board looks like it hadn’t even been touched. “Jaemin, how did you and Jeno become this close? You seem… I don’t know.”

“Yeah, we’ve definitely got our unique quirks,” he chuckles softly. “But Jeno and I… we just go way back, I think. When you’re friends with someone from a young age, you tend to grow with them. He’s a good dude, really, even if our personalities are different, and it’s always a fun event so long as he’s around. Well — mostly. I’d say a good ninety-nine percent of the time.” 

You pointedly ignore the sheepish smile he throws your way. 

“You said before that you’re not the type to… you know, share your feelings, and all that. Then how do you… like what do you guys even talk about?”

“What do you and Renjun usually talk about?” Jaemin grins. “Anything and everything, really. Movies, games, why the jerk from Yongsan International gets on our nerves when he chews his gum. We just… have a tendency to be interested in the same things, no matter if our perspectives are different.” 

While talking to Jaemin is fun, you can’t help but feel like he has a tendency to speak in riddles. You still don’t really see any strong similarities in their approaches to their interests, similar as they may be, but what do you know, anyway? It isn’t like you and Renjun are exactly peas in a pod on paper.

His eyes lose focus for a second, hitting somewhere behind your ear before they quickly turn back to you. You have no idea why this makes you feel a little put on the spot. 

“Hey, you want to have brunch here? My mom makes a mean soybean paste stew.”

“Oh,” you press your hand against your stomach, wondering if the swooping feeling in it is from hunger or something unrelated. “No, I actually just ha—”

“_____________?” 

You swivel around in the chair, and your heart stops; you're not the least bit prepared to see Lee Jeno standing at the foot of Jaemin’s porch steps, a quizzical look very clearly etched on his sharp features.

[jessybarnes]

Al Min Kærlighed

Fandom - Metallica

Chapter One - Fade to Black

Pairing - Single!Lars Ulrich x Reader

Other Characters - James Hetfield, Kirk Hammett, and Robert Trujillo

Tags - DOMESTIC VIOLENCE!, Blood, Language, Crying, Broken Bones, Arguing, Anxiety, Angst, and I think that's it.

Word Count - 1,400 +

Beta - Just Grammarly

Fic Aesthetic - Yours Truly

A/N: This is a series that I've been working on for a long time now. I have quite a few chapters written, but it's not quite finished yet. I'm a huge Metallica fan, and James and Lars are my favorite members. :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

“Shit! Is it really that late?!”

You said as you glanced at the clock on your work desk. Your boss asked you to stay after work and finish one of the daily reports. This was becoming a regular thing, and your boyfriend didn't like it. Not at all. Sure you were thrilled that your boss chose you to stay out of everyone else. For one, the overtime was something you used to your advantage, and two you didn't really want to go home... Not with him there.

Sighing and grabbing your purse you switched the desk light off and headed for the main entrance to finish locking up. You had been with Essential Graphics for two years, and for about a year now Jace, your boss, had asked you to stay later than usual to do various things. You happily obliged and put the overtime you earned into your savings. Something only you knew about which was probably for the best.

After making sure the doors were securely locked you made your way to your car. Checking your phone you noticed you had ten missed calls and three voicemails.

“Great...” You muttered in annoyance. “Here's to hoping he'd be asleep.”

You buried your head in your hands and hunched over the steering wheel trying to calm your breathing. You had been saving your overtime for a year now. So close to your end goal, you could taste it. You only had to save two hundred more dollars, and you would be on your way to California, and more specifically away from your current boyfriend.

Cole wasn't the angel everyone perceived him to be. Not in the slightest. You had been to hell and back with him, and you had the bruises to prove it. You did your best to cover them up, but foundation and powder only go so far. Sure people noticed, but you would always make some believable excuse to deter the conversation elsewhere.

“Maybe I'll get lucky enough and he will be passed out drunk.” You said as you started your car and maneuvered out of the parking lot.

You drove in silence the whole fifteen minutes it took to get home. Closing your eyes, you mentally prepared your mind and body for what you inevitably were going to endure as soon as you crossed the threshold of your house. Your knuckles were white as you gripped the door handle to your 2008 Pontiac and you tried to calm your racing heart. He didn't like when you showed fear. It was fuel to the fire. Quickly and quietly you approached the front door and strained to listen. Trying to listen to see if Cole was awake.

Sliding the key into the lock and turning it shouldn't sound so loud, but it did then. You slowly opened the door and the smell of alcohol hit you like a freight train. Your heart thudded in your chest as you grasped the chain on your purse to keep it from making noise and toed your tennis shoes off. As you walked past the living room things felt eerily quiet. When you got to the hall big, strong hands grabbed you and shoved you hard against the wall knocking the pictures onto the floor.

“Where the fuck have you been?!”

“Jesus Cole! You scared me! Jace asked me to stay late again. I had to finish the daily report. I'm sorry I was so late.”

“It's fucking ten thirty, Y/N. Who is he?! Who the FUCK is he??!”

“There is no he, Cole. There is only you.” 

A moment later, his hand collided with the right side of your face. You tasted copper a clear indication that your lip was split open. Tears threatened to escape your eyes, but you wouldn't let him have that satisfaction.

“Don't you EVER lie to me, Y/N. You're mine and I won't let anyone else have you. If I can't have you, no one else can. You can't win and you can't escape. There's no way out, baby.”

He gave you a look of pure menace as he flung you to the floor. You instinctively put your hands out to catch yourself and winced as pain shot up your right arm. You knew it was probably broken, but you couldn't think about that right now. You had to get out of there. Putting as much force behind your foot as you could you kicked him in the shin sending him to the floor on the opposite side of the hall. You held your throbbing wrist to your chest as you hobbled as fast as you could to grab your keys and purse.

Getting away would have been too easy. You knew that. Cole was on you in a matter of seconds. He gripped your hair hard, sending pain rocketing through your skull.

“You'll pay for that, bitch. Good for nothing that's what you are.”

You tried to kick, hit, punch, anything to get him to loosen his grip. Nothing seemed to work. You heard the telltale sound of him flipping open his switchblade. You couldn't help it, you let the tears fall this time. Pleading him, begging him to stop.

“Please, Cole! Please....don't.... you don't want to do this... We can work this out. Just let me go, and we can talk.”

“Oh, sweetheart, we are way past the talking stage.”

He firmly pressed it to your throat, not realizing he was giving you a way out. You had to do this fast if you were going to get away. Tucking your chin to your chest you bit down on his wrist as hard as you could. He yelped in pain and dropped the knife, but not before it cut you. You grabbed your purse and dashed out the front door to your car. Barely making it inside, you jammed the key in the ignition and squealed the tires as you backed out of the driveway onto to the main road.

Finally able to calm your breathing and let the adrenaline die down you let the tears flow. You pulled into an alleyway and parked to keep yourself from getting into an accident. Your cries soon became sobs and you hunched over the steering wheel in pain from the events that just took place. You barely even noticed the loud music coming from the club or the dozens of people going in and out of the back entrance.

Your vision became blurry and you suddenly felt light-headed. Moving your left hand up to your neck you felt the wetness there. Pulling it back to see you noticed that Cole must have nicked you pretty bad, and you needed to get to a hospital fast before you succumbed to unconsciousness.

You kept your left hand on your neck to apply pressure and awkwardly reached for the door handle with your right hand. Biting back the urge to scream from the immense pain you felt, you opened the driver’s door and staggered out of the car. You began to move toward the noise of the band and found your way in through the back exit. Looking for someone, anyone, to help you. You heard muffled voices and made your way towards them. Praying you didn't pass out before you got there.

A deep voice filled your ears along with an accented one. You couldn't quite put your finger on where the other man was from, but that wasn't at the top of your list of concerns right now. As you got closer to the door you could hear their conversation clearly now.

“C'mon James we always open with Creeping Death. It's tradition, man! We can play Fade to Black later on in the set list.”

“Don't you think it's time for a change, Lars? I mean we've played the same opener for years!”

“Ugh... James... don't push it. Maybe the next show we will switch things up, but for now, let's just stick to--”

You cut their moment off as you fell through the door. You couldn't speak. You could hardly breathe. You just laid there shock taking over you as you saw them scramble toward you.

“JESUS! FUCK! James!! Call a doctor! Shit! Hey, hey sweetheart. It's okay. I've got you. Just hang in there, and we will get you some help. Shhh. Just stay with me.”

You heard shouting and a soothing voice, but you couldn't make out anything they were saying. You were cradled in the shorter one’s arms and the last thing you remembered before darkness overcame you were beautiful, frightened green eyes.

[hintsofhoney]

Freshman Year

Paring(s): RA!Dean Winchester x M!Student!Reader

Summary: Fucking your RA (and your roommates older brother) wasn't exactly what you had planned for your first semester of college.

Square(s) Filled: Rimming for @spnkinkbingo, Dick Pic for @anyfandomkinkbingo, College AU for @spnaubingo​

Tags: 18+, anal sex, anal fingering, sexting, dirty talk, light dom/sub dynamics, rimming, sex in the dorms

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Wrote this for @superfanficnatural a few months ago, so I figured it was time to post it! GIF is mine. Hope you guys enjoy!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Excuse me, sorry – oh, on your right – left – sorry.” Pushing through the crowded hallway, carrying three cardboard boxes stacked up to your nose seemed like a task in of itself – to think that you actually had to unload all this shit after you got it into your room made you want to drop out of college before you even officially started.

You placed the last three boxes on the floor of your dorm room next to all of your other things: your computer, clothes, and about fifteen plastic tubs of “first year of college essentials” – some of which you knew you wouldn’t be able to live without, however most of it you thought was just crap that you’d either never touch or would lose by the end of the semester. But your mom had insisted on buying it for you anyway, and you weren’t going to argue about free stuff – crap or not. 

You looked around your half of the room, mentally decorating the space while you waited on your roommate to arrive. You hadn’t met him yet – not in person anyway – but he seemed nice enough from the very short conversations you had through the app that your college provided to “get to know your roommate better before moving in with them”. 

“Hey! Y/N?” you heard a voice behind you ask, and you turned around to see him standing in the doorway holding a plastic tub similar to the ones you had brought in earlier. 

“Yeah! Sam, right?” 

He nodded, giving you a small smile before setting the black bin down on his side of the room. He was tall – about 6’4” if you had to guess – which wasn’t that much taller than you were, but he seemed to tower over you nonetheless. He had chestnut hair on the longer side, curling behind his ears and just barely falling in front of his eyes – but enough to where he already had to flick his head about three times since walking into the room to keep his line of vision clear.

“You’ve got a lot of stuff, making me feel like I under-packed,” he commented with a nervous chuckle as he opened up the tub he had brought in.

You laughed awkwardly, glancing over all of your things again, realizing just how much of the floor was covered by them. “What can I say? I like to be prepared,” you shrugged. “Is that the only thing you brought with you or?” you asked, pointing to the tub he had finished unpacking. 

“Oh, no. My brother is bringing a few more boxes up and I’m about to go get the rest of what’s in the trunk. I just wanted to make sure I found the right room first, and didn’t wanna do it with my arms too full in case I had to walk far,” he explained. 

“Yeah, makes sense. You need any help?”

“Nah, I got it. I think one more trip is all I need. Thanks though. I’m gonna go grab them now, um – if a guy with short hair and green eyes walks in here, Zeppelin tee on – that’s my brother. Feel free to ignore him.”

You nodded, chuckling at his instructions, before he disappeared around the doorway. You sighed as you turned back around, your arms folded over your chest as you eyed the many boxes and suitcases you had in front of you. It was going to take forever to unpack it all, but you were eager to get everything set up just the way you wanted it – this was your first year of freedom, really, and you intended to take advantage of that as much as you could, starting with setting up your home base for the next five months. 

You had moved to open a box labeled “desk stuff” when you heard a grunt behind you, followed by the soft thud of boxes hitting the floor. You turned around to see who it was, expecting Sam but getting something much better. He was a little bit shorter than his brother, but not by much, and his light brown hair poked up every which way as he wiped a bead of sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand. Freckles dotted his face and the sleeves of his Zeppelin t-shirt were tight around his biceps as he placed his hands on his hips, breathing heavily in exhaustion. 

“Yeah, the stairs will get you,” you chuckled, absentmindedly roaming your hand through the contents of the box you had opened, but not at all paying attention to what you were pulling out and putting on your desk – your eyes were glued to him. 

He huffed a laugh. “That’s an understatement. Been here three years and I’ll never get used to them.” He walked over to you, holding out his hand. “Dean Winchester. I’m Sam’s brother, and I’ll also be your RA this semester.” 

You shook his hand, your eyes widening at the information that was just presented to you. Your roommate was the RA’s little brother – this semester was either going to be hell or one hell of a party. He chuckled at your expression. “Don’t get too excited, I only let the guys I like get away with all the stuff they shouldn’t be doing,” he winked.

You scoffed, feigning offense. “Are you saying you don’t like me?”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that your brother is our RA!” you exclaimed. It was almost 10 p.m. and you and Sam were on the tail end of your unpacking – at this point you were ready to call it a night and finish in the morning.

“I didn’t realize it mattered,” he mumbled in response, breaking down an empty cardboard box.

“Uh – what!? Sam, do you realize the shit we can get away with?” You watched as he rolled his eyes before going over to the university-provided dresser, opening it, and pulling out a pair of pajama pants. “Oh my God, you’re a goody-two-shoes, aren’t you? You’re not gonna do anything wrong while you’re here, huh? Not even with your brother not watching?” 

“Look, you can do whatever you want. I won’t rat you out or anything, and no, Dean won’t care. He’d probably encourage it, actually. But I – I just can’t risk anything, y’know? Sure, call me whatever you want – goody-two-shoes, a prude, death of the party, buzzkill, lame – I’ve heard them all. From Dean, mostly. But I’m here to actually better my future, or whatever, so I can’t get involved in anything that might jeopardize that.”

You sighed, nodding in understanding as you climbed into bed, having already changed into your pajamas about an hour ago. “No, yeah, I get it. But you know… it doesn’t hurt to have a little fun here and there, dude.”

Sam chuckled as he copied your actions, crawling into his own bed. “You sound like Dean.”

You shrugged. “Not the worst person to sound like.”

He huffed a laugh. “Actually, one of the worst people you could sound like.”

“You two not get along or something?”

“Yeah, something like that,” he sighed, turning off his bedside lamp, “but, I think we’ve unpacked enough for today.” 

The first two months of college went by quicker than you would have liked them to. Despite Sam being uber focused on school, you did manage to convince him to come out and do the fun things that all the RAs in your dorm had planned – like game nights or movie nights in the downstairs lobby. It was a great way to make friends and get to know who else was living in your building, but for you it was just another excuse to get to talk to Dean. During one of the movie nights, he had pulled you aside to tell you that he did in fact like you, which essentially gave you a free pass to do whatever you wanted – and the whole dorm knew it. Your room was the spot to store all the alcohol and pot that all the other kids were terrified of getting caught with – not that Sam knew that. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Just like how he had no idea about how close you and Dean had been getting since that night. 

It started off as texts at first, since the RA had everyone on their floor’s number. Innocent texts – how are you doing? Do you need help studying? Are you guys hungry? – which slowly turned into not-so-innocent texts. What are you wearing? Is Sam there? Send me a picture. Look what you do to me, look at that mess you made. How you guys got from, how’s your first semester going? to, you have no idea how badly I want to fuck that tight little ass of yours – you had no clue. But you definitely weren’t complaining. 

Since you had met him on move-in day, you had been completely taken by him – he filled up every empty space in your mind that wasn’t already taken up by your classes. You couldn’t stop thinking about him – you didn’t want to stop thinking about him. The only thing keeping you from acting on your dirty thoughts was the fear of Sam finding out – not that you two were that close, but you felt weird about it regardless. They don’t even get along, the devil on your shoulder egged on. It’s still his brother, have some decency, the angel argued back. 

It was midnight when Dean’s name popped up at the top of your phone screen as you were scrolling through Instagram in bed one night.

DEAN: Are you up?

You began to type back, before seeing three more dots pop up at the bottom of your screen. You could feel your heart pounding in your ribcage as you waited. You took a deep breath as the image came through – a conscious effort not to moan as Sam was asleep in his bed. You stared at the picture on your phone – Dean’s cock long and hard, his hand wrapped around his shaft as he sat in his bed, the dimly lit room providing a perfect background; a dark contrast to the color of his skin, the pink of his swollen tip. You closed your eyes and took another breath as you formulated a response in your head, but another text came through before you could even begin to think of one.

DEAN: You coming?

DEAN: I know you’re up, I saw you typing.

DEAN: I promise I won’t make you scream too loud… wouldn’t want to get caught.

This asshole. Like you could say no. 

Y/N: Yeah, I’ll be right there.

You quietly made your way out of your bed, tip-toeing over to where you kept your slippers before quickly sliding them on and slowly opening the door. Closing it softly behind you, you let out a sigh of relief, feeling accomplished in the task of not waking up your roommate. You walked down the hall slowly at first, afraid to wake any of the other students who lived in your building, but once you realized that you could barely hear your own footsteps down the carpeted floors you picked up the pace. You were standing at Dean’s door within seconds, swallowing down your nerves as you raised your fist to knock. However, the door swung open before you got the chance to, and Dean quickly pulled you into his room by your bicep before closing the wooden barrier and pushing you up against it. He was holding your wrists above your head as he stared down at you, his tongue darting out between his lips, his face illuminated by the lamp on his desk – the yellowish glow the only source of light in the room.

“You got here fast,” he said, his tone lined with amusement as he looked at you. “Someone’s eager.”

You scanned his face and bare chest, before your eyes darted down to the bulge that was tucked back away in his sweats, suppressing a moan as the picture he had sent you crept back up into your mind. 

“Me? I’m not the one who sent the dick pic,” you replied with a smirk, suddenly realizing how hard your own cock was beneath the confines of your briefs. 

He chuckled. “Touché.” 

He licked his lips one last time before leaning in, and then they were molding with yours, his kisses hungry and needy and rough . You wanted to touch him so badly but he still had your hands pinned against the door, and you were suddenly very aware of the tingling sensation in your fingers as they started to fall asleep. Dean moved away from your mouth, trailing kisses down your jaw line to the pulse point on your neck, where he stopped to suck a bruise into your skin.

“Dean,” you breathed, trying to remind him that people would see it – that they’d ask questions – but he didn’t seem to care.

“I like marking what’s mine,” he husked in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He released your hands from his grip and you let them fall to his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck as his palms came to grip underneath your thighs. He picked you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to his bed, your lips never separating from his as he set you down on your back. Breaking the kiss, he hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of both your sweats and briefs, pulling them off of you in one swift motion. 

“Right, I’m the eager one,” you teased, receiving a glare in return.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Dean replied with a smirk, kneeling down at the end of the bed and grabbing the underside of your thighs before pushing them upwards, spreading you wide open for him. “Don’t make a fuckin’ sound.” 

He kept his eyes on yours as he lowered his head to your hole, the smug look never leaving his face. Licking a stripe over your entrance, your hands instantly came to tug on his short brown locks as you tried to suppress a groan. Circling his tongue around your puckered hole, you could feel him chuckling against you – he could feel your desperation. You watched him spit, taking a deep breath so as to not make any noise as the pad of his thumb replaced his tongue, his face in full view again as he rose up on his knees. He seemed to tower over you, his thumb circling your asshole as his other hand came to wrap around his cock. You held your legs open for him, holding back whimpers as he slowly pressed into you with his thumb, preparing you for what was to come. 

As he slid his finger into you, you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan – it had been a while since you’d last had sex, and fuck , did it feel painfully good. Dean’s hand left his cock, quickly coming to cover your mouth as he slipped his thumb out of your ass and replaced it with his middle and pointer fingers. He was hovering above you now, his face inches away from yours. 

“Thought I told you to keep quiet?” he whispered, his voice low and raspy. You nodded underneath his hand, your eyes pleading as he pushed his thick digits deeper inside you. “You gonna be good for me, then? You gonna be a good boy and shut the fuck up? ‘Cause if we get caught, we’re both dead.” 

You nodded again, more eagerly this time – his dominance was only making you want him more. You needed him to fuck you. He smirked, huffing through his nostrils in amusement as he moved his hand away from your mouth and back to his cock, pumping it a few times before he slid his fingers out of you with ease. Your breath hitched in anticipation as he lined himself up with your entrance, spitting once, twice, for extra lubrication before pushing himself into you slowly. It took everything you had not to make any noise, the sensation of being filled to the brim one that you hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Dean breathed as he bottomed out inside you. He pulled back swiftly, pushing back into you much quicker and harder than before. You almost yelped, and judging by how swiftly his hand came to cover your mouth, he had noticed. 

He shook his head as he continued pounding into you, warning you for a third time about just how dangerous it was to be making sounds like that. You closed your eyes, listening for anything else that could give the two of you away – the bed creaking, the headboard against the wall – anything loud enough, but there seemed to be nothing but Dean’s panting and the soft sound of skin slapping against skin as he continued to fuck you. 

You stared up at him with doe eyes, attempting to telepathically ask him if you could touch yourself, and as if he could understand you, he nodded with a grin on his face. “Yeah, you wanna touch yourself?” 

“Mhm.”

“Go ahead.”

You gripped your cock in your hand as he continued to pound into you, his hand never leaving your mouth, your orgasm building up rapidly. The two of you never broke eye contact as you pumped your shaft in time with his thrusts, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead as he chased his high. You were right on the edge, and as Dean dropped down a little bit, getting closer to you, his breath fanning over your ear, his palm still covering your lips, you couldn’t hold back any longer as he told you to cum. 

Muffled noises came from underneath his hand as you rode out your delirium, and within seconds a string of “fucks” were falling from his lips while you felt him paint your insides white. He collapsed on top of you briefly, rolling off to the side moments later, and you could finally let the air back in your lungs as his hand left your mouth, taking a deep breath. The two of you laid in silence for a minute or so, trying to quietly catch your breaths between stolen glances at one another. Finally, his green eyes met your brown ones, a cocky smirk plastered on his face as he stared at you.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“How long d’you think we can get away with this for?” 

You huffed in amusement, staring back up at the ceiling. “Your brother’s my roommate and you're an RA. A week if we’re lucky.” 

He chuckled, turning his head to look up at the ceiling, too. “Well, better move the fun to my car, then.”​

[theconstantsidekick]

Power Broker (1) | b.b

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader, Past!Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader

Genre: Fluff with a touch of angst.

Summary: Bucky breaks out Zemo. Sam suggests they need help handling him, seeing as he can push Bucky’s buttons unlike anyone else. So they go to the only person who can handle both Bucky and Zemo, the only Stark left in the Superhero business… well kind of. Only problem is, she seems reluctant.

Warnings: None I can think of.

a/n: Alright, so I said, I’d do this if I got a 100 notes... and I did. So here this is. Essentially these are snippets of scenes that introduce y/n into the story as a character without making drastic changes. The plot points remain mostly same as they take place in The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, except that y/n is also a main character with them, if that makes sense. The rest of the MCU events stay the same as well. No drastic retcons. The previous upload was the second part to gauge reception. Here on out, I’ll be posting in order, dw. Thanks for you support. And oh, I guess the tag list is open?

Power Broker (2) | Series Masterlist

“What are you talking about? You wanna break Zemo outta jail? Where the hell are we, Buck? Have you lost your mind?” Sam shouts as both men make their way into the room with torches in their hands. Sam has no idea where they are, and the calmness that Bucky is exuding is kinda pissing him off.

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing. Sam,” Bucky shouts back.

“What we have is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars,” Sam’s trying his best to reason with the geezer but he’s failing.

“And we also have eight Super Soldiers that are loose,” Bucky counters.

“Zemo's gonna mess with our minds,” He reasons, “Especially yours. No offense.”

Bucky walks over to a lever and pulls it, lighting up the abandoned workshop. Cars and equipment scattered around. “Offense” He chides, turning off his flashlight. Sam copies the motion as Bucky steps towards him, saying, “Super Soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy, but he still has a code.” The old man walks away.

“I've been on the wrong side of that code, Buck and so have you.” Sam urges. “He blew up the UN, he killed King T'Chaka and framed you for it. Did you forget that? You think the Wakandans forgot about it? It's a rhetorical question. They didn't.” And Sam is terrified of the idea of having to deal with Wakandans as enemies.

Bucky finally stands in front of him, shifting his weight from one foot to another once, and then stilling.

“I know why this matters to you, but it's pushing you off the deep end.” Sam’s voice is calmer now, softer. He really does empathize. He does. But he’d rather do it any other way.

“Sam, we don't know how they're gettin' the serum. We don't even know how many of them there are.” Bucky counters, arms wide open. Sam has to look away and take a few steps forward because Grumpy is grinding his last nerve. But then Bucky says, “Look, let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?” 

Sam’s brain stills for a second. 

He cocks his head back, “What did you do?” he asks.

“I didn't do anything.” Bucky replies with painful innocence and Sam knows he is painfully fucked. “The weakest point in any system isn't the software, the hardware, it's the meatware. The human element.” Bucky points to his head. “Now, in this lockup, it's nine to one, prisoners to guards. And if two prisoners start fighting, then the protocol says four guards have to respond.”

“So why would two prisoners randomly start fighting at that moment?” Sam interrupts. 

“Who knows? There could be many reasons…”  Bucky responds, feigning more ignorance. Sam’s sixth sense, which he likes to call his Barnes Bullshit Detector, is sounding alarms already. Bucky continues, “But the point is, these things escalate. Lockdown procedures would have to be initiated, and with all those bodies flying around left and right, wouldn't be hard to slip down a hallway or two.” Oh yeah, the sirens are blaring, they’re fucking ringing in Sam’s here so loud he can barely hear the man in front of him as adds, “And if the fire alarm got tripped while the prisoners were being separated... someone could use the chaos to their advantage.”

Bucky is being far too casual about this whole thing for Sam’s liking, so he says as much, “I don't like how casual you're bein' about this. This is unnatural.” He’s wearing a snide smile, he hopes conveys his disagreement.. “Are you— And where are we, man?” His smile is all gone. He’s fucking pissed. And then there’s a sound of a car door opening outside.

And from the shadow walks out, none other than, Baron Helmut Zemo, wearing a fucking gaurd uniform? Sam’s gonna kill the old man, super soldier or not.

“Whoa. Whoa, whoa.” Sam shouts out, walking over to Zemo.

Bucky cuts in his way, trying to hold him back. He says, “No, listen.”

Sam doesn’t want to fucking listen, “What are you doin' here?” He exclaims pointing at Zemo.

“I didn't wanna tell you 'cause I knew you wouldn't let this happen,” Bucky reasons as if he were talking about buying a damn puppy instead of breaking out a criminal mastermind form high security prison, while being on probation by the government. 

“What did you do?” Sam asks exasperated.

“We need him, Sam,” Bucky replies.

“You're going back to prison!” Sam states pointing towards Zemo.

“If I may—” Zemo begins to speak, taking off his hat.

“No!” Both men scream at Zemo in unison, cutting him off.

“Apologies.” Zemo says simply.

“When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you backed him. You broke the law, and you stuck your neck out for me. I'm asking you to do it again,” Bucky’s voice is soft, almost pleading. The tinge of desperation in it makes Sam’s skin crawl, because he wants to help the guy. He really does. But Zemo is one of his least favourite people in the world. And that’s saying something when you’ve just fought an alien who took out half the universe with a snap of his finger.

“I really think I'm invaluable—” Zemo tries.

“Shut up,” Sam throws back with finality. 

“Okay,” Zemo responds.

Sam takes a breath, a moment. And fuck if the old man isn’t right. He really thought the recklessness would end in Steve’s absence. Oh to be so naive, he thinks. So he relents. “If we do this, you don't make a move without our permission,” Sam tells Zemo, leaving no room for argument.

“Fair,” Is Zemo’s only response.

“And,” Sam adds, looking back at Bucky, “We call in help.”

“Help?” Bucky asks, confused.

“Yeah, you know, the leash.” Sam’s wearing a smirk. If Bucky’s gonna make him hang out with Zemo, Sam’s gonna enjoy every second of it.

“No,” Bucky refuses, backing away.

Ah, there it is, the enjoyment. “Oh come on! We need a freaking leash and you know it” Sam knows Bucky cannot really refuse him, but he adds regardless, “Someone needs to keep you in check, and him,” he points to Zemo. “And especially both of you together. Who’d be better at that than her?”

“Come on, Sam. You’re here, aren’t you?” Bucky sounds desperate. He’s pacing around, moving his weight from one foot to another. Sam knows he shouldn’t enjoy it as much as he does.

“Yeah, but I can’t kick your ass nearly as well as she can.” Sam retorts, smiling.

“She hates me,” Bucky says, finally looking at Sam.

“No, she doesn’t,” Sam replies easily.

“I killed her best friend… I—I—The things I’ve done...” He breaks himself off, head falling down. “She hates me.” He declares with finality.

“Hey, look.” Sam urges gently and he does look up. Then Sam adds, “She doesn’t hate you, man. She never has. Trust me.”

“How do you know that?” Bucky asks helplessly.

Sam’s face breaks into a smile, “You’d already be dead if she did.”

Read part 2 here. Find series masterlist here.

tag list: @thisisparadisemylove​​ @justab-eautifulmess​​ @intothesoul​​ 

[angryschnauzer]

He’s A Keeper

Summary: Working as an artist hired by Durrell Zoo, you spend your days sketching the day to day life of the animals and the keepers. One keeper in particular catches your eye.

Pairing: AU Zookeeper Henry Cavill x Female Reader (no race or size mentioned)

Fandom: Henry Cavill

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Friends to Lovers, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Fingering, Safe Sex/Use of Condoms, Realistic Sex/Relationship discussion, Vaginal Sex.

Typo’s are allowed to run wild and free, only the finest organic free range fuck ups for me.

I do not operate a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and hit ‘notifications’, you’ll get an alert every time i post something new. Back catalogue/masterlist can be found there and also on AO3

He’s A Keeper

Working the pencils over the sketchpad you quietly captured the beauty of the animals the zookeepers had nursed back to full health, the Ruffed Lemur currently hanging off the keepers arm as he spoke through the headset to the group of excited school children watching through the glass. 

You’d been hired by the zoo to capture day to day life at the zoo throughout the summer season, drawing the animals and the humans, however there was one particular human you had found yourself drawn to numerous times, and that was the rather tasty zookeeper by the name of Henry. He also had one of the sexiest voices you’d ever had the pleasure to listen to, so as he explained about the Lemur’s your mind wandered, as did your gaze;

“... originally from Madagascar, and have been part of Durrell zoo since 1982 where they have been essential to the breeding program…”

Your mind fell even further into the gutter at the word ‘breeding’, your eyes raking down Henry’s body, taking in how the branded t-shirt clung to his chest before tapering down to a narrow waist where it was neatly tucked into cargo pants that did little to hide how thick his thighs were and a pert arse you could bounce a satsuma off of. Biting the end of the pencil you had all but given up drawing, only realising that the talk was over when the group of school children were being herded onto the next exhibit by their tour guide and teachers.

When the kids had disappeared you finally got back to drawing, watching as Henry finished up feeding the Lemur’s before he met your gaze and smiled at you. Tapping your pencil on the glass he frowned and shook his head, before smiling and pointing to the sign in the corner of the window that said ‘do not tap the glass’, getting closer you tried to mouth your words to him, but was surprised when his eyes went wide in almost shock, before looking down and realising you had pressed your chest to the glass, your low cut cami top helping to accentuate your cleavage. When you looked up again he was gone and you let out a sigh of disappointment, before he appeared through a door to the side of the viewing area;

“Hi” he had a smile that could charm the panties off a nun; “Did you want me?”

“God yes…” Oh fuck, did you say that out loud?; “Sorry, i mean, you’ve dropped the foam bit off your headset...”

He glanced into the enclosure just at the moment one of the larger Lemur’s picked up the small round piece of foam and staring straight at Henry, proceeded to rip it into tiny pieces.

“Furry little fucker…” he cursed under his breath before turning back to you, but before he could say anything a group of other keepers came walking in and soon you were hanging onto the periphery of their conversation where they were discussing going for drinks after work. Moving to pack your stuff up as you presumed they weren’t including you, but a call of your nickname drew your attention;

“Hey Da Vinci, you up for a few beers after work?”

You hesitated to answer, glancing at Henry who had a smile across his face and a hopeful look in his eye;

“We’re all going…”

“Ok, yeah sure, that’d be great” you agreed. 

-

An hour later you were sitting on the wall outside the main entrance waiting for the rest of the keepers to finish their shifts, smiling as you saw them coming out of the doors, and the ensuing 10 minutes that followed as people sorted out who was driving and how many people could fit into just a couple of small cars. As spaces were allocated Henry laughed and shook his head;

“I am NOT riding five up in a Renault Clio, i’m too tall, i’ll have to fold myself in half! Where are we going anyway, i can take my bike and just walk home after”

Waiting as everyone discussed location and finished off seat allocation, they’d finally decided when Henry turned to you;

“Hey, i think the last seats are in the stoner wagon…”

“Oh…” you didn’t have anything against anyone smoking pot, but didn’t fancy being in a car you could barely see out of the windows of.

“But you can ride with me on my bike?”

Looking to where Henry was pointing, you saw a fairly large trails bike, the kind that could go 50mph over rough land and through forests;

“I… I don’t have a helmet…”

“Wait here, let me run into the locker room and grab the spare i keep here”

Everyone else pulled away as Henry ran into the zoo, and you glanced at the bike. You’d never been on a motorbike before, so this would be a first. Stowing everything loose in your backpack, you hooked it over both shoulders just as Henry reemerged from the building, swinging his keys from one finger as he came to stand in front of you;

“Hey, thanks for waiting”

“No worries! So, where are we going again?”

“The pub in Rozel does good food and pulls a great pint” he nodded to his left and you saw a row of motorbikes; “You ever ridden?”

Shaking your head you laughed; “No, never”

He carefully helped you put the helmet on, his nimble fingers helping to secure the strap beneath your chin before putting his own on and climbing onto the bike, pushing it off the kick stand and nodding for you to climb on. You tried to sit back, but he wrapped his arm behind his back and pulled you flush to his body;

“Gotta hold on tight, otherwise you’ll throw the balance off. Lean when i lean and just squeeze a bit harder if you’re scared, the ride won’t take long” he shouted over the thrum of the noisy engine idling.

The ride down to the small village of Rozel had been exhilarating, from the vibration of the motorbike between your legs to the way you were able to wrap your arms around Henry’s waist and cling to him as he hurtled around the country roads at what seemed like warp speed, when in fact it was little more than 30mph. By the time you arrived in the small fishing cove your heart was racing and you actually let out a reluctant moan at the thought of removing your arms from around Henry’s waist.

“C’mon” he grinned as he helped you off the bike; “I’ll buy you a vodka and coke to calm your nerves”

“It wasn’t nerves” you muttered to yourself, smirking as you know he heard you.

-

The group had managed to find a cluster of small tables chairs and benches in the corner of the pub beer garden, and as the sun had set behind the hills to the rear of the pub, the cold Atlantic sea had glowed in pale blues and pinks. You were squashed into a bench with Henry on one side and another enormous hulk of a keeper on the other, and as the temperature had dropped you’d found yourself thankful that Henry had casually rested his arm behind you so you could leech some of his warmth, but it didn’t stop a violent shiver involuntarily running up your spine.

“Cold?” Henry asked quietly, before gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close; “Any better?”

You nodded and let out a very quiet whine as you smiled at him, completely surrounded by his scent and warmth. It made your stomach do a flip and you clenched your thighs together, something that didn’t get past Henry as your leg twitched against his thigh. Before either of you could say anything an enormous bowl of cheesy fries was set down between you, your stomach growling at the aroma’s that wafted around you as it turned out someone had ordered sharing bowls for the whole table.

With the meal mostly devoured as you’d sat side by side on a small wooden bench in the pub garden, laughing as you fed each other and strings of cheese hung from your fingers. As the giggles of a joke faded away you glanced at Henry’s almost finished pint;

“Hey, you aren’t planning on riding that bike home are you?”

“Nah, i’d never drive after a pint, let alone three… my place is just behind The Navigator restaurant…” he paused; “Oh god, where are you staying, do i need to call you a taxi?”

“No no, i’m renting a studio up the hill, on the hairpin bend”

“Oh…” 

It wasn’t a bad ‘oh’ and there was definitely something loaded in the subtext, so when people had started to leave and arrange ride’s back to St Helier and St Johns it felt natural for Henry to stand with his arm around your shoulders as you both waved everyone off.

“Can i walk you home?” he asked, his voice low and full of promise, and you nodded as he slid his hand into yours, leading you along the low coast road that skirted the harbour.

-

You hadn’t gotten far before the evening turned even better, a brief suggestion of a walk along the beach as the tide was out soon had your feet in soft sand as you were pressed to the weathered stone of the sea wall, Henry’s lips on your neck as your fingers dug into his back, his teeth nipping and biting at whatever exposed flesh he could find. You hadn’t even realised he was going lower until he was on his knees in front of you, those sea blue irises staring up at you as he pressed kisses to your legs where your shorts ended. His fingers softly rested on the button and he finally spoke, his voice low and thick with lust;

“May i?”

Nodding fervently you bit your lip as you watched him slowly unbutton you, pulling the garment down your legs until you were able to step out. Never breaking eye contact he lifted your leg and gently rested it on his shoulder, pressing open mouthed kisses up your inner thigh until his face was pressed against your panties and his wide tongue worked against the soaked cotton and lace. His finger crooked beneath them and tugged the scrap of fabric to the side, seeking out your clit before tracing down to your cunt and tenderly teasing the entrance.

“Henry… please…” you whined, desperate for more

“Don’t you worry, i’m gonna make you see stars…”

Pushing his head forwards his lips caught your clit as he slowly slid two fingers into your soaked channel. You let out a long groan at the feel of his lips and fingers finding the right spot immediately, his other hand cupping the back of your thigh before he ran it around your hip and caught your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he quickly drove you closer and closer to the edge with that added touch of intimacy. Suddenly he hummed against your clit and the world exploded, making you cum so hard you truly did see stars as a white heat bloomed in your belly and you rode Henry’s fingers until you were spent.

As you rested against the wall behind you he carefully withdrew his fingers, licking them clean as he tugged your shorts up your legs. You couldn’t help but to notice the obscene bulge in the front of his cargo pants, your hand rubbing over the smooth curve of it;

“You keep doing that and i’ll cum in my boxers… “ he panted out, his lips inches from yours; “What’s your room like?”

“Its a little summer cabin studio right at the end of the garden, away from the other holiday rentals and the main house… what about you…”

“Shared flat with two other guys from the zoo. They’re probably drinking in the lounge right now… so, your place?”

-

Unlocking the door you stepped inside and turned on a small lamp, standing aside so Henry could come into your small summer living space.

“Mmm nice” he nodded and looked around; “Wanna give me the tour?”

You snorted out a laugh at the formality, and held your arm out;

“Well this is the kitchen area, right next door we have the smallest shower room in Jersey, and here’s the bed” you didn’t need to take a single step for the ‘tour’, the room seeming even smaller as Henry took a single stride and wrapped his arm around your back, pulling you flush with his chest. Never breaking eye contact he gently trailed a single finger over your cheek, his thumb brushing your plump bottom lip;

“Are you going to be good for me?”

Your legs almost buckled at the deep baritone of his voice, igniting something within you that you hadn’t even known existed, eagerly nodding;

“Yes Sir”

Lowering his lips to yours he kissed you, his tongue pushing past your lips as he took control, walking the pair of you back until your legs hit the bed and you fell back onto the soft unmade covers. Covering your body with his, he quickly stripped you of your clothing, his mouth trailing behind his hands so every inch of you was gifted with a kiss. 

Standing between your legs he pulled his t-shirt over his head and you couldn’t help but to moan at the sight of his body; toned and just the right amount of hair on his chest and a treasure trail on his abdomen that surely led to untold riches. Quickly sitting up your hands joined his on his button to his cargo pants;

“May i?”

Henry released his hands and nodded, watching as you carefully plucked the button before lowering the zipper painfully slowly, his boxers tented obscenely and you couldn’t help but to cup him in your palm, the searing heat of his engorged cock a welcome feel in your hands, the wide mushroom head clearly visible through the stretched fabric. Unceremoniously tugging the rest of his clothing down, you felt yourself getting wetter as his beautiful cock was finally revealed; big, thick and uncut, you had to taste him and quickly ducked your head forwards, swallowing his head between your lips as his hands flew to your hair to steady himself.

Now it was your turn to drive him crazy with your mouth, taking him as deep as you could even though it was barely half of his length, you wrapped both hands around what was left, the thick root of his shaft filling both palms. A few more pumps and he pulled his hips back with a gasp, a trail of spittle hanging from your lips to his bulbous tip;

“If you keep doing that i’m gonna cum far too soon…” he said, his voice shaking; “Lay back and let me treat you right…”

Scooting up the bed you settled against the pillows as you watched Henry shed himself of the rest of his clothing, his boots and socks hooked off, cargo pants and underwear all left in a messy pile at the side of the bed, before he crawled up the mattress like a Panther stalking its prey.

Capturing your lips for another searing kiss, you felt his hot shaft against your belly, burning against your skin and you so desperately wanted to feel him inside you. Pulling away just slightly you were already breathless;

“Just a second…” reaching for the small drawer at side of the bed you pulled out an unopened box of condoms, Henry sitting back on his knees as you ripped the box’s cellophane open with your teeth and pulled out a small foil packet, tearing it open before smoothing the latex over Henry’s shaft. Looking up to his face he wore a rather sheepish smile;

“Sorry, shoulda’ thought of that”

“S’ok, a girl’s gotta keep sharp these days…”

“Right…” he met your gaze; “But you know, if you had gotten pregnant, i would have stood by you”

“Umm thanks? But its for STD’s. I’m on the pill”

“Oh… good thinking…”

A tense pause hung over the pair of you, before you reached up and rested your hand on his chest;

“Shall we continue?”

At your words the tension in the room suddenly dissipated, Henry kissing you as he slid a hand between your bodies so he could position himself at your entrance, groaning as he pushed in slowly breaching your body. Your tight channel hugged him tight, unfamiliar with such a size splitting your walls so he paused, pressing light kisses to your face as your body grew accustomed with his size and the heavy weight of his dick in your pillowy soft embrace. Finally you moaned out his name;

“Henry… please…”

“What do you need?”

“Move… please move. Fuck me, please”

Pushing up on his forearms he started to fluidly move his hips, slow and steady, each thrust was gentle but firm, your body yielding to him as he started to increase the pace, the sound of hot bodies meeting filling the small wooden cabin as the gentle sounds of the sea not far away filled the rest of the night. Soft moans spilled from your lips at the feel of his body playing yours like a delicate instrument, waiting for the chorus and the inevitable crescendo. But he was going to play the entire symphony first, knowing how to get you to sing the high notes as the thrum of your bodies were in tune with each other completely.

With the stretch of his girth and the way the curve of it meant he was able to find your g-spot with every thrust you were fast approaching your orgasm, your body trembling as your lips found a life of their own;

“Henry… please, so good… keep doing that… oh god, i’m gonna cum…”

“That’s it, my good girl, cum on my cock, let me feel you squeezing me so tight… feel so amazing right now… that’s it, you can do it…”

With a cry you came, your legs wrapped around his waist as you pulled him deep whilst your body shook with a fierce orgasm, triggering his own as he pumped a heavy load into the condom.

Finally spent, Henry settled on top of you, his weight a heavy comfort as your sweaty bodies lay skin to skin, the gentle roughness of his chest hair against your naked breasts a tender reminder of his virility. When he started to soften he finally shifted, holding the condom at the base as he pulled out and staggered the few steps to your small bathroom;

“I’ll be back in a second, gotta sort this out…”

The door closed and you shifted on the bed, pulling the duvet back and sliding between the sheets, listening as you heard the tell tale sound of a man urinating and the high pitched, double barrelled squeak of a fart. The flush of the toilet and water running soon after meant you knew the second he would reappear, a flannel in his hand and he stopped dead, his cheeks suddenly bright crimson;

“You heard that didn’t you?”

“It's a small wooden cabin… yes i did”

“Sorry” he approached the bed and with a warm flannel he carefully cleaned between your thighs, pressing a kiss to your lips as he did. When finished he sat on the side of the bed; “Can i stay the night, or did you want me to go?”

“Have you got work tomorrow?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nope. Please, stay”

He quickly threw the flannel into the sink in the bathroom, before with a giggle climbed under the duvet and pulled you into his arms;

“So, how many more condom’s you got?”

-

The morning light broke softly through the trees that surrounded your cabin, your body sore but sated, knowing every bruise and ache came from soft lips, sharp teeth, or skilled fingers, apart from that one ache deep inside that you knew exactly what had caused that delicious soreness, and the owner and cause of all of it still softly slept in your bed. Climbing out you quickly used the bathroom, and as you came back into the room the artist in you couldn’t help but to admire how the dappled morning light cascaded over Henry’s body. Slipping his work t-shirt over your head you pulled your sketchbook from your backpack and settled onto the only chair in the room, quietly working carbon to paper.

Henry woke 45 minutes later, the gentle scratching of your art making him squint at the bright daylight, before laying back on the pillows with his arms spread;

“Still life class?”

Setting your sketchbook down you padded across the room and climbed onto the bed;

“Sorry, i couldn’t help myself… the way the sun was hitting the muscles of your back and shoulders, you were like an anatomy masterpiece”

With a laugh and moving much quicker than you thought he was possible of, he grabbed you by the waist and turned you, his body atop of yours;

“Well that’s enough of that, i would like to become better acquainted with your anatomy… and as we’ve both got the day off i suggest we make the most of it”

Laughing you fell into his embrace, sighing with happiness. Henry really was a keeper, as you were for sure not going to let him go. 

[imkylotrash]

Whatever It Takes

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader

Request: They’re getting ready to go into the Quarter Quell, and essentially have a super sweet conversation where they confess their love, and are like “damn the revolution I’ll protect you”. Anonymous

A/N It’s been a long time since I read the books so if I accidentally used the wrong word for something please let me know and I’ll correct it 💛

Tagging: @bitchwhytho​ @music-of-melody​

You called it before they even announce it. You knew all the victors would get involved in the Quarter Quell because how else would he get Katniss to be in the arena without letting the public know that it’s purely to kill her? When you hear Finnick’s name get called out, there’s no choice. But was there ever one to begin with?  

“I volunteer as tribute,” you say raising your hand to let them know that you’ll be going into the Quarter Quell and not that poor girl they’ve got on stage. You don’t look at Finnick because you know his face will just mirror back the pain you feel. No matter what the revolution has planned, you highly doubt that both of you gets out alive. The focus will be on Katniss because she’s the one that’s been fuelling the fire while the rest of you can die a martyr and inspire the people then Katniss’ death would squash the tiny flame. It’s not fair but she made everything possible when she took out those berries. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Finnick tells you once you’re on the train travelling to the Capitol. 

“There was no way I was going to let you go alone.” Not to mention that innocent girl who got drafted. You’d have been a proper piece of shit had you not volunteered. 

“But you could’ve survived. Don’t you understand that’s all I care about?” 

“Careful, Finnick. Someone might hear your declaration of love and think it means something else.” It’s a warning that the walls have ears and not necessarily just the Capitol’s ears. Although you both want to think only the best of the lovely Coin, you can’t help but feel like it’s too good to be true. And you have no doubt that she’s got as many spies all around as President Snow. 

“I just want you to live,” he says hearing your warning loud and clear. Katniss and to some extent Peeta are untouchable, you are not. He takes your hand without another word. The rest of the train ride you remain quiet, too worried about saying the wrong thing and jeopardising this whole thing. Haymitch is counting on to keep Katniss alive until the rescue mission and your lives can’t matter more than the entire of Panem. Even if you want to say screw that sometimes.

“God, you’ve gotten old,” you smile spotting Haymitch next to the star-crossed lovers. He scoffs but can’t help but laugh. You’ve known each other for quite some time now and learned a long time ago that humour is how you all get through this with at least some level of sanity.

“I see your kindness have only grown over the years,” he mocks before giving you a massive hug. Being a victor and having to mentor the kids every year creates a certain bond between you all but Haymitch has always been one of your favourites. It’s the reason you know you can trust him to do you a favour. 

“We should talk once all the celebrations die down. Catch up on old times,” you smile giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze. He agrees suggesting the rooftop for a gorgeous view. When Finnick sneaks his arm around you, there’s a slight pang of guilt but you force it to the back of your mind. He’s going to survive the Quarter Quell if you can do anything about it. 

“What did you talk about?” he asks quietly and you keep a smile on your face not even looking at him. 

“Just good old days,” you utter hoping Finnick will understand not to ask more questions right now. There are too many people around you to speak freely and, in a minute, you’ll have to get on that carriage and pretend you’re proud to be fighting once again. 

“Katniss, Peeta!” you call out catching their attention just as they’re about to get on their carriage, “nice costumes.” You’re trying to be nice and establish some sort of positive relation between you but all it does is make Katniss stare at you like you’re personally responsible for putting her in the Quarter Quell. 

“I already tried. Tough nut,” Finnick tells you. It makes sense why the revolution needs a face but why they would ever choose someone like Katniss is beyond you. She’s not kind or caring expect when it comes to the people she loves. The future of Panem seems oddly low on her list of priorities but then again when has war ever made sense? And you certainly can’t say you’re morally better than her. 

“Is holding hands a cliché?” You look over to Finnick who’s doing his very best to put on a brave face.

“I think it’s perfect.” You intertwine your fingers with his not letting go until the carriage has driven through those gates at the end where the public can’t see you anymore. And even then, it’s just to get some blood flow back. 

“I just want some sleep,” Finnick says itching to get the costume off and you’re thinking the same thing. You ride up in the elevator with Katniss, Peeta and Joanna which makes for an interesting end to the day. 

“Never a dull moment,” you say before exiting the elevator with Finnick. Joanna laughs loudly while both Katniss and Peeta looks slightly mortified. If she’s trying to win over Katniss, Joanna is doing a poor job. 

“Let’s take a shower,” Finnick suggests now that you’re finally alone and you’re all too happy to comply. In the shower you can finally speak freely with the sound of water drowning out the sound of your voices. 

“I know it’s horrible to say but the revolution doesn’t matter to me if I don’t have you next to me when it’s done.” He slowly lets his hands slide down your arms until they reach your hands. 

“I know,” you whisper feeling the exact same way. The guilt returns tenfold this time but you keep quiet knowing that when he’s sleeping tonight, you’ll be bargaining for his life. 

“I say damn the revolution. I swore to protect to you a long time ago and I’m not breaking that promise now.” He kisses you with a fire that tells you just how badly he wants to keep you safe. Desperation takes over your body as you kiss him back. You wish you could leave now and hide somewhere far away from everything. If it were up to you, you would’ve fled the moment you heard about the Quarter Quell. But it’s difficult leaving behind so many decent people who needs your help and the few moments of hesitation had been enough for the peacekeepers to show up and make sure you didn’t take off. Snow always knew you were a runner. 

“And I say you’re sounding crazy. We can’t change the plan now. There’s nowhere to run.” As much as you’d love to run away and hide with him, you know it’s too late for that now. You wouldn’t make it out of the building. 

“I don’t care if I sound crazy. We can protect each other in the arena, make sure we never part. And when they come get us, we make sure they grab both of us.” It’s cruel really to give hope to him because you know it won’t work but you wish it could be so easy. 

“And then when we’re out, we hide. No more war, no more revolution. Just you and me and a small cottage near the water.” Hope may be cruel but it’s a strong motivator to survive and if anything you need Finnick to survive. You hide your face in the crook of his neck allowing yourself to feel a pang of sadness at the prospect of the future you’ve lost. Your lives ended the day you got drawn for the Hunger Games. 

“And you can finally have enough quiet to paint,” he adds and you don’t have to see his face to see the affection in his eyes. 

“It would be perfect,” you say closing your eyes to picture the cottage and the life you could’ve had with Finnick. The water hides the tears that fall from your eyes and it’s a good thing because you’re not sure you would be able to hold your secret from spilling out if Finnick noticed. 

“I promise I will make it happen. I promise we’ll be alive to spend the rest of our lives together. Whatever it takes,” he says. Instead of answering him, you kiss him again. When the water turns cold, you get out and dry off. You both know that your safety is gone now and they can hear whatever you say so you keep quiet letting your eyes do the talking. You cuddle up in bed where you wait for him to drift off before you head to the roof where Haymitch is waiting. The wind is loud tonight working as a noise diffuser. 

“I want you to save him.” It doesn’t surprise Haymitch but you both know he can’t make any promises. 

“I know Katniss is the main goal and that’s she’s probably made some demand for Peeta. But if there comes a choice between saving Finnick or the rest, you save him. Do you understand?” It’s the least he can do for you after everything you’ve sacrificed for President Coin and the revolution. You could’ve had a life if things had gone differently. 

“And that includes me, Haymitch. Once you’ve gotten Katniss and Peeta out, Finnick is your priority,” you add knowing that if Haymitch could choose, he’d pick you. 

“Finnick will make more sense for the revolution. I won’t be an asset the way he can be.” He knows you’re right. Of course he does but it doesn’t mean he has to like it. 

“I know,” he grumbles. You both know there’s a good chance you won’t make it out of that arena but then again none of you have been safe ever since you became victors. Snow made sure of that. 

“Promise me. I need to hear you say it.” You’re not satisfied until you hear him say those words that will give Finnick a chance to make it. As much as you’d love to believe his plan of getting out of the arena together, you can’t afford to entertain the idea. Even if Finnick isn’t ready to admit it, you both know it’s a fairy tale ending you won’t get. 

“I always thought he was just your way of getting through it, you know. That he offered some sort of relieve.” Maybe at first Finnick was your escape from reality but not now. He’s your world and everything else. 

“He has my heart, Haymitch.” You hug him tightly hoping he knows how much his friendship has meant to you over the years of being a mentor.

“Take care,” he says before you spin around hurrying back. Finnick doesn’t wake up until you crawl back to bed but a quick excuse about the bathroom satisfies his curiosity. 

“I love you,” you whisper looking over at the man who’s given you so much more than you’ll ever be able to explain. 

“I love you more.” 

[slytherinwh0re]

Warnings

Draco Malfoy x Female Reader AU

Warnings: SMUT(18+ minors dni) and swearing

Summary: Where you accidentally break curfew and Draco catches you in the library.

Masterlist

A/N: I forgot how much I love writing smut lmao

You’d been in the library for hours studying for potions, the upcoming exam was worth a lot of your grade so unfortunately you’d spent the greater part of your Saturday hunched over a cauldron in the back of the library. What you hadn’t realized was that it was now past curfew and your common room was all the way across the castle.

“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself; hurriedly gathering your supplies before Filch and the prefects started doing their nightly rounds. The last thing you needed right now was a detention, final year was already kicking your ass.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” While trying to stuff the last of your books in your bag you’d accidentally knocked over the potion you’d been working on. The heavy cauldron couldn’t have been any louder as it dropped to the floor. You quickly cleaned up the mess but it was too late.

“What do we have here?” Of all people Malfoy would be the one to find you, his deep voice carried throughout the empty library as he leaned on the table you’d been sitting at. His arms were crossed and he had that stupid smirk on his stupid handsome face.

Of course you found him attractive, he is Draco Malfoy after all, anyone with functioning eyes knew the boy was the main character of many girls dreams. The blonde looked you up and down before finally setting his stare back on your face waiting for your answer.

“Oh, uhm, hey Malfoy. I was just studying for the potions exam on Monday and lost track of time, now if you’ll excuse me I’ll just be heading back to my dorm now.” You’d hoped he’d understand since you shared the same classs but before you could even get two steps in he was grabbing you wrist and stopping you.

“Not so fast (y/l/n), you’ve broken a rule, and I, as a head boy, am in charge of making sure you get the appropriate punishment.” You watch as his eyes travel down to your legs, butterflies errupt in your tummy under his gaze.

“Please Draco, couldn’t you just give me a warning this one time.” You beg the slytherin as your stare travels to his crossed arms; his forearms on display from when you watched him rollup his sleeves in potions earlier in the day. The veins that lead to his ring clad hands were enough to make a girl weak in the knees.

“I could let you off with a warning,” he starts walking towards you as you walk backwards until you feel the table on the back of your legs, “but it’s gonna cost you.” Your body on fire at the proximity of the blonde.

You knew exactly where this was going but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want it. Both his hands land on the table behind you on either side of your body, essentially trapping you in.

“I’ll do anything.” You whisper up at him, a second later his lips are on yours, kissing you hungrily. Your hands find his hair tugging on the back of it as he slips his tongue in your mouth, the moan that leaves his throat already has you rubbing your thighs together.

His lips travel down your jaw and to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, surely leaving marks that’ll you’ll have to cover up tomorrow. Draco’s hands begin unbuttoning your shirt, hurriedly pulling it off along with your bra, his long fingers playing with your nipple as he continues the assault on your neck; the moans leaving your mouth sound filthy but you couldn’t care less.

“Get on your knees.” He pulls off the shirt you’d just gotten unbuttoned, watching as you immediately obey and sink down to your knees in front of him. You start working on his pants, when you finally get them unzipped you don’t waste a second on pulling them down, followed by his boxers.

His dick springs up to his stomach, extremely hard and already dripping with precum. You take him in your hand, pumping slowly as you look up at him, a smirk on your face. Once you wrap your lips around him his head falls back, groaning as he grabs your hair.

You take as much of him as possible, using your hand on what you couldn’t fit. The hand in your hair lowers your head further on to him and you gag around his dick, making the boy above you moan. You hollow you cheeks and pick up the pace, making sure to drag your tongue up the base every time you bob your head. You knew he was close but before he could finish he’s pulling you back up to your feet in front of him.

Draco’s lips find yours once again before he reaches under your short skirt, dragging down your soaked panties, and sliding two fingers through your slick folds.

“Do you want this (y/n)?” He pulls away to look at you, both of you breathing hard in anticipation. “Yes.” You’re barely able to get out before he’s turning you around and pushing your face down onto the table.

He flips your skirt over your ass, slapping a hand on both cheeks before sliding all the way in, making both of you moan. Immediately he sets a fast pace, the slapping of skin and your moans were the only sounds in the empty library.

“Always wanted to bend you over a table, these little skirts you wear drive me fucking insane.” Your fingers grip the edge, rocking back onto him to match his thrusts.

“Draco, oh fuck.” He grabbed you hair and started slamming into you even harder than before, his dick feeling impossibly deep as he fucks you into the table.

Suddenly he’s pulling out, flipping you back over and sitting you on the edge so he could push himself back in. You wrap your legs around his waist, the new angle putting you on cloud nine.

You let your hands travel down his toned chest, the pale skin warm against your fingers as you trace his abs. Draco’s hand finds your throat, the cold metal of his rings makes you shiver as you throw your head back, screaming his name on repeat. His other hand rubs circles on your clit and you know you won’t last much longer.

“Go ahead (y/n), I want to feel you cum on my dick.” A few more deep thrust and you’re falling apart, your walls clench around him and your body trembles as you ride your high. Draco isn’t far behind, your name leaves his mouth as he finishes and Merlin knows you’d do anything to hear it again.

“I can’t believe no one heard us.” You say as he laughs, both of you now cleaned up and clothed.

“I cast a silencing charm before we started.” You raise your eyebrows trying to think of when he managed it, not realizing he’d even taken out his wand but thankful nonetheless. “Come on I’ll walk you back to the common room.”

You walk in silence, the events that just happened leaving you a bit confused but greatly satisfied, that was the best sex you’d ever had. When you reach your common room you turn to look at him.

“I’ll see you around (y/n).” He winks before kissing you on the cheek and walking away.

“I’m fucked.” You whisper to yourself.

*

Tag list: message me to be added/removed!!

@tonksandherpinkhair @fuckingdraco @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lovecatsnotpeople @ccabian @purpleskymalfoy @tonksandhercombatboots @hellounicorn @whattheactualfuckyeet @perfect-storm95 @prongsandprancer @agirlwithpointlessideas @explxsion @tb-ctn @capkatie @dracoxmgg @sydnee-kom-spacekru @slytherinxraven @emomikewazowski @juliannaamonroe @unadulteratedfirellamapanda @t38h @dracoswhore007 @perspectiive @daringvixon @missmercurymoon @weaslcyx

[chaotic-jjk-fiction]

Perfect Puppy

Gojo Satoru x Fem Puppy reader x Nanami Kento

Happy Valentine’s Day! This fic isn’t specifically theme for Valentine’s day, but it is cute and fluffy. 

TW: Poly Fic, Puppy reader, Reader is adopted from shelter, she/her pronouns used, Reader wears a collar, Reader is essentially just a pet, cute fluff

Gojo sat on the counter as Nanami cooked, swimming his legs and watching his lover work. Despite the fact that the two of them worked together, it felt like they barely spent any time together. Domestic moments were a rare occurrence for the two, and Gojo was enjoying it fully. He also figured it was to the perfect time to bring up something that had been on his mind for a bit. He sighed loudly hoping to get his lovers attention. 

“What is it?” Nanami asked rolling his eyes at his husband’s antics. Gojo chose to ignore that and express his thoughts anyways,

“I want a pet.” He then paused to see how Nanami would react. 

“Like a goldfish?

“Noooo,” Gojo whined, “Like a dog or maybe a cat.” Nanami stopped for a moment to take in what he had just heard.

“We can’t get a pet like that with our job, you know that.” He paused, “And what makes you bring this up now anyway?” Gojo pushed himself off his perch and wrapped his arms around Nanami’s waist as he stood at the stove. 

“I’ve always wanted a pet but I was never allowed to have one as a kid. I brang it up now because we’ve finally got a house where we have the space.” Nanami pondered Gojo’s explanation before moving to grab some plates out of the cabinet, breaking free from his lover’s embrace. 

“You do know you’d have to feed it, walk it, and take care of it in every other way?” He continued to serve the food as he waited for Gojo’s answer.

“I know that. And of course I would take care of it.” Nanami sighed as he placed the plates of food on the table at their respective places. 

“Alright Satoru, I suppose we can look into getting a pet if you really want one.” Gojo was ecstatic. He spent the rest of the night talking about what he wanted in the pet. 

“I want them to love me, they have to be good with cuddles, I want them to like walks, but not need them, ooh and maybe just a touch of separation anxiety so that they are always happy to see me!” Nanami was happy to see his husband so excited and he just hoped it wasn’t just another one of Gojo's whims, a pet was starting to sound nice.

The next day Gojo didn’t bring it up as they got ready for work and he didn’t seem a bit more excited than normal. Nanami couldn’t help but wonder if his partner had forgotten their conversation. They didn’t see each other until it was late into the afternoon. Gojo was bounding up to Nanami with a folder in his hands.

“I printed out a list of the adoptable pets at this shelter so we can look over them on the way there!” Apparently, Gojo had not forgotten their conversation at dinner, and Nanami soon found himself being dragged into a waiting car. On the way to the adoption center that Gojo had chosen the two of them poured over the file. 

“Look at how cute that one is. Oh, but look at that one’s ears. AHHH they’re all so cute!” Nanami couldn’t help but feel his heart warm at the sight of his overexcited husband. They had to quickly stop back at their place first to take some pictures of their living situation as proof that they had a suitable home to own a pet. As soon as they had done that they were right back on course to the shelter.   

“I really can’t decide which of them I like more. Do you have a favorite so far?” Gojo turned to Nanami hoping to get some input on the pets they were looking at. 

“Actually,” Nanami paused “There is one that caught my eye.”

“Which one?” Gojo was eager to know which pet he found of interest. Nanami ruffled through the papers looking for their page. Upon finding it he held it in the middle of the two of them so that Gojo could see it too. 

“She’s so cute, I see why you like her.” Nanami nodded to affirm Gojo’s words. The pet that had caught his eye was a puppy girl. 

“We’ll request to me meet her when we get there!” Gojo was pleased by his husband’s choice and was hoping that you would be everything he wanted in a pet so that it would all work out. 

As soon as they arrived, Gojo was bounding up to the front desk asking the receptionist to help them meet you so they could assess compatibility. The receptionist handed them the proper paperwork so that they could do just that and Nanami filled it out while Gojo handed him the photos of their house to keep on file. Once Nanami handed the paperwork back they looked over it before directing the couple to follow him. They walked into a back area with a long hallway of rooms where prospective adopters could meet the pets they were thinking of adopting. 

“Please wait in here while I bring her to you.” The receptionist bowed before closing the door to the room they had been given behind him. Nanami and Gojo sat down on the sofa-like-bench in the room. Gojo was getting antsy, “I can’t wait to meet her!” His excitement was a little contagious and Nanami found himself also with a swelling feeling of anticipation. They didn’t have to wait for very long though, and soon the receptionist was opening the door to reveal himself and you standing right next to him. You looked just like your picture, almost cuter if they were being honest. The receptionist guided you into the room before making his exit once again. 

“If you need anything please don’t hesitate to push the button on the wall.” and with that, he was gone. Gojo and Nanami now focused their attention on you.  You stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, tail down unsure of whether or not to trust the gentlemen in front of you. Gojo motioned for you to join them, you hesitantly took a few steps forward before freezing again. Gojo was loving how shy you were, while on the other hand he just wanted you to love him immediately. Gojo once again patted the space in between him and Nanami eagerly inviting you to sit there. You took a few more steps, finally reaching the end of the bench, before turning around and sitting down. Although you felt awkward being in-between the two complete strangers, you couldn’t deny that your heart was pounding with excitement at the idea of being adopted. Gojo couldn’t stop himself and he brought his hand up to your head, lightly petting your ears. His action made you shiver and lean into his touch. This only served to fuel his eagerness in touching you, and his light strokes turned into a much more vigorous scratching of behind your ears. Nanami watched the way your tail started wagging and how content you now looked under Gojo’s touch. He realized that you were the one, at least in his mind, and he hoped that Gojo would agree. 

“Aww, does puppy like that?” Gojo cooed as he continued to scratch behind your ears, the little rumble coming from your chest was enough of a confirmation for both of them. Nanami did not personally feel the need to join Gojo in petting you, seeing how happy his lover is was enough. He continued to watch over the course of 30 minutes as the two of you bonded. He knew that Gojo and him would be adding a third member to their family.  

“Have you made your decision?” Nanami asked looking down at the pair who had ended up on the floor of the room. Gojo and you paused your petting/cuddling and looked up at him. Nanami elaborated,

“Would you like to look at other pets, or have are you made up you mind Satoru?” You looked up at Gojo with your biggest puppy eyes. You longed for adoption, and the attention Gojo was giving you was all you ever wanted. One look at your cute expression was all too much for Gojo, 

“I’ve made up my mind! I want her.” Nanami nodded in agreement and pushed the call button on the wall. Nanami stood when the receptionist popped in a minute later, 

“Did you need something?”

“We would like to adopt her today,” Nanami stated looking from you and Gojo to the receptionist in the doorway. 

“We need to review the images of your home you provided and there is more paperwork to fill out-”

“That is ok, can we start on the paperwork while the photos are being reviewed?”

“Of course, I’ll go get it right away.” He bowed and quickly exited the room. Nanami was immediately encased in his lover’s arms as Gojo threw himself at Nanami. 

“Thank you!” Gojo sang burying his head in the crook of his lover’s neck. Gojo soon broke away from him though and returned his attention back to you. 

“Did ya hear the puppy? You’re going to be coming home with us!” You couldn’t control how fast your tail started wagging at his words. It didn’t take long for the receptionist to come back with the required paperwork. Nanami filled it out as Gojo resumed playing with you, all the while telling you how perfect your life was going to be and all the nice things you would have. It didn’t take too long to fill out the forms and soon Nanami was once again pressing the call button. He handed the man the completed forms, 

“Your house has been approved. You may come out and get your care instructions packet, please look over them and make sure you don’t have any questions before leaving.” The receptionist opened the door wide for the three of you. Gojo took your hand and lead you out of the room, Nanami followed behind the two of you. Once back in the main entrance area of the shelter where they had first entered, they were handed a small stack of papers. The care packet turned out to be very straight forward. It had a section on feeding, training, your immunization record, medical things to look out for, and so on. 

“Are you ready to go to your new home?” Gojo cooed to you, watching your ears perk up. 

“Not so fast,” Nanami interjected, “We still need to get you a collar.” 

“Oh right,” Gojo remembered. That didn’t take very long though as the shelter had an attached store. Soon you were fitted with a cute collar that Gojo had chosen with your input, and had a name tag with your name and their numbers. 

“Alright puppy, let’s get you home,” Gojo chirped. He had insisted that you sit on his lap for the entire car ride back to their place. Gojo continued to play with your hair and ears, while Nanami finally made a move to touch you, silently allowing his hand to rest on your thigh. It didn’t take long to reach their apartment. Once inside Gojo was eager to give you the full tour of your new living space, 

“This is the living room, we watch movies and relax there. This is the kitchen where we eat. This is the guest bathroom. Oh! And this is the bedroom. You’ll be sleeping here with us.” You were at Gojo’s heels the entire time, joyfully following him and experiencing your new home. 

“Hmm… according to the schedule the shelter had you on, it’s about time for you to eat dinner. Are you hungry?” Nanami asked looking up from the papers in his hand. Your tail halted its back and forth motion, taking in his words before it resumed its wagging. You nodded your head, bringing your hand to your tummy to emphasize your hunger. 

“Alright then, let’s fix that.” Nanami made his way back to the kitchen and pulled out the leftovers from last night. As he heated them up for the three of you, Gojo lead you to the table and promptly pulled you onto his lap. It didn’t take Nanami very long to prepare the food, and soon he was setting down two full plates for them, and just one bowl of plain rice for you.

“The instructions said to stick to plain food for the first few days to make sure that the stress of adjusting to a new environment, your doesn’t upset your stomach,” Nanami explained noticing your pouty expression at the dull meal. 

“Cheer up puppy,” Gojo chimed in, “close your eyes and I’ll feed it to you so you can pretend it’s something yummy.” You obliged, closing your eyes and opening your mouth allowing Gojo to feed you. Nanami watched as his husband praised you for eating all your food like the good girl you were. Not too long after finishing the rice, you felt yourself growing a bit tired. You were still on Gojo’s lap as he ate his food, and you took advantage of your position. Nuzzling your nose into his neck before resting your head on his shoulder and falling asleep. Gojo had to contain his excitement as not to wake you once he realized what had happened.  

“Look at her,” Gojo whispered with glee to Nanami. 

“She’s definitely adorable.” Nanami agreed, standing up after taking one last look last you as began clearing the plates. After he finished cleaning up, he made his way back to his lover who had remained in the exact same position as not to disturb you. 

“Here, let me take her.” Nanami moved to lift you off Gojo, cradling you to him in bridal position. He carefully started walking to the bedroom, Gojo following behind him. The way your hand took hold of Nanami’s suit jacket as he carried you was enough to make him melt. Gojo pulled back the covers on the bed and Nanami gently laid you down on the mattress. He had to remove the hand of yours that was gripping him and guided it down with the rest of you. The two of them changed quickly so they could join you in the bed. As soon as Gojo was changed he made his way to your side, wrapping his arms around you, pulling your back to his chest. Nanami followed his lead and laid on the other side of you on his back. What he was not expecting was you to wiggle away from Gojo in your sleep and cling to his chest. Gojo frowned, 

“That’s not fair, she’s supposed to love me more.”

[tippedbykreider]

it’s all coming back to me | c. kreider (i)

Word Count: 8.2k Warnings: Slow burn, exes to friends to lovers, relationship breakdown, swearing, alcohol mention. Author’s Note: So many of you have been requesting for this to be brought back! The consensus was that you’d rather have it in smaller chunks so I’ll be posting each new part weekly and they’ll come in between 6 & 9k per chapter. Not only is it more manageable for you guys but it also gives me chance to keep writing new content for it 💖 There is a playlist for this fic which I posted separately, it gives a chronological feel for their relationship and their story. This has been a tonne of fun to write so far and I can’t wait to tell the rest of their story. Summary: Chris Kreider x Reader Insert. They say that all good things come to an end, that you can never have too much of a good thing, but when Chris decided to end your relationship you wondered how anything could ever be good again. A chance meeting 9 years later drags up all those feelings you both thought you were done with. Can you work through your hurt and pain to see what it is that Chris is trying to show you? Or are some things better left forgotten? Tagging: @danglesnipecelly - this girl deserves a writing credit on this thing because she’s pushed me to keep going with this and her input and advice has been invaluable. Thank you for all the support on this one, K 💖

*Italics indicates a flashback*

The notion of fresh starts is often something that is associated with the arrival of the New Year. People use the turning of the calendar to turn over a new leaf, to learn a new skill, to challenge themselves to be better than the year before and to let go of all that was and focus on all that will be. There’s something inherently magical about a new beginning, a fresh start; sometimes it’s the excitement of what might lie ahead and other times it’s the comfort in knowing that you can seize the opportunity be whoever you want to be and to reinvent yourself. It’s the line in the sand and the final full stop at the end of the chapter and it’s the anticipation of picking up the pen and writing those first few words on the new page.

For Chris Kreider this feeling wasn’t one that was brought about by the strike of the clock at midnight on New Year’s Eve because while the date on the calendar changed and while he still spent the next couple of weeks dating things with the wrong year just like everybody else, it still often felt like nothing really changed for him. Chris could only feel like the year was truly coming to an end when the first petals of spring exploded like fireworks in a symphony of technicolour blooms and he found himself giving the locker-room clearout interview. That was the end of the year, the full stop, the line and the warmer days and the balmy nights would give him the opportunity to decompress ready for the turning of the page come September when his focus would once again turn back to hockey.

Chris loved New York; that much was undeniably true. He loved the vibrancy of the city but he also loved the way that he could melt into the background or enjoy the feeling of quiet solace his apartment gave him. It was oftentimes a bolthole, an oasis of peace during an otherwise hectic few months between September and May but the end of the hockey season and the arrival of summer had him seeking the cry of gulls on the breath of a gentle breeze and that crisp, purifying sea air that always managed to fill his lungs differently. Rowayton wasn’t far, a little over an hour on a good day but with its coastal Connecticut charm, slower pace and pretty houses, especially the ones that overlooked the water, it was a world away from NYC and exactly what Chris needed to reset and recharge.

It was a Saturday morning in mid-July and for the first time in a long time, longer than Chris could recall, he allowed himself to sleep in. His bedroom window had been open all night and the welcome breeze snaked through the slats in the blinds and carried on it the faintest smell of salt and sunshine. Chris stretched his muscles in big pulls around the bed before he settled on his back and inhaled deeply, the fresh air clearing his mind and filling his body as the last remnants of sleep slipped away on the exhale of breath. Imbued with energy, he climbed out of bed and pulled the blinds all the way up, flooding the bedroom with beautiful incandescence born out of a cloudless sky. He didn’t make his bed though, not yet, because while he had left his room and was padding down the stairs, he had every intention of returning to the still warm sheets to read a chapter or two of the book on his nightstand with a fresh cup of coffee, a cinnamon and raisin bagel, that invigorating coastal air and the oceanscape outside as the soundtrack.

One chapter turned into two and two became three and before Chris knew it, the sun was high in the sky and lunchtime beckoned. It was shaping up to be a beautiful summer day in Rowayton and Chris thought it would be a crying shame to spend his time at home, even if the page-turner he’d held in his hands moments ago seemed incredibly appealing out on the back deck overlooking the water. It was then he decided to take advantage of that gorgeous sunshine, take in the scenery and stretch his legs by going for a walk into town to pick up a few essentials at Rowayton Market. For all it was a small, it contained everything he would need to keep him going for a few more days until he’d finally need to drive into Norwalk to do a more substantial grocery shop, something that he’d admittedly been putting off. The Market also had some of the best baked goods and fresh coffee in the village and if you asked Chris it would be pretty rude to not take advantage – it was right there, after all, and Chris never could say no to a still-warm Danish and Americano.

He walked slower than he usually would, a conscious effort on his part due to the fact that his legs seemed to want to go into an auto-pilot primed for life in New York City. He was in no rush though, he never was whenever he came here and even though it was a route he’d walked hundreds of times before, and one he would walk hundreds more, Chris still wanted to soak in all the pretty trees and shrubs that were nestled in amongst those classical New England style homes, all shingled exteriors and white, gridded windows in soft muted colours that mirrored the coastal landscape of the village. It was a world away from the brick and the concrete and the bright lights of the city and while Chris loved all of those things about New York and loved wandering through the streets of Tribeca and Soho, getting lost in bookstores and hole-in-the-wall cafes, he also loved the sand, shale and stars and those were things that he just couldn’t find in the city that never slept.

There were quite a few people out and about, Chris noted, most of them he recognised as being residents with their friendly smiles and waved greetings, but there were a handful of tourists too; there always was on weekends during the summer. Not that Chris minded, of course, because for all the village was a popular escape for those seeking a break from the metropolitan life of the nearby hub of cities, it never succumbed to the all-too-often inevitability of commercialisation and still managed to hold on to its peaceful charm, despite it not quite being the quaint fishing village it once was back in the days before the Civil War.

It was one of the reasons why Chris found himself retreating here in the summer and not making the trip back home to spend the off-season in Massachusetts. He would go back to Boxford for a couple of weeks, naturally, because family was something that had always been important to Chris and he would never miss an opportunity to spend time with his parents and sister, but if he had the choice between spending his entire summer being bitten to death by mosquitoes back home (his father always did say that they were the town bird, after all) or feeling the gentle kiss of the ocean breeze against his skin, there was no real contest. Rowayton would always win.

The main street through town was busier, which wasn’t exactly unexpected and if anything it only seemed to add to the charm of the village. Chris decided to head straight to the market to pick up his groceries, if only to facilitate the Danish eating in a more timely-fashion. He picked up a basket as he entered and proceeded to add only the essentials he’d need to get him through the next couple of days. He’d pay for his shopping before going to the coffee bar, because trying to pack his reusable grocery bag with a full takeout cup was a mistake he’d made once before and was sure to never repeat again.

With his groceries purchased and bags packed in such a way that the couple of bottles of wine he’d picked up wouldn’t clink together when he walked (it was three to be exact but after seeing the selection of cured meats, cheeses and olives available he thought it’d be a crime if they didn’t find their way into his basket to come home with him, and if there was cheese there had to be wine), Chris made his way to the coffee counter situated near the Market entrance.

*

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d taken a trip away without the company of anyone else but the last couple of months at work had been incredibly stressful, with projects seemingly coming out of your ears and while you knew your mother had been worried by your suggestion of taking off somewhere alone for the weekend, she also knew better than to fight you on something you’d quite clearly already set your mind to. If you were being completely honest, your plans for the first full weekend you’d had off in months would have consisted of not setting foot outside of your apartment or engaging in any kind of unnecessary conversation had you decided to stay home in Hartford, at least this way you’d be getting some fresh air and the sun on your face.

It was just shy of a two hour drive down to Rowayton, which had the dual benefit of being close enough to home that it didn’t feel like a huge trek just to get there, but also being far enough away that you would be a complete stranger in this town and could take the time to decompress and recharge while blending into the background, and the place was pretty to boot. You’d found a little studio Airbnb not too far away in South Norwalk, figuring that you’d only be using it as somewhere to sleep as you’d planned on spending as much of your time as possible being right by that ocean with the wind in your hair and the warm sun on your skin.

That’s how you’d planned on spending your Saturday afternoon, sat on the sand of Bayley Beach with a good book and a cup of coffee. It was set to be a balmy day, with temperatures sitting in the mid-eighties and the last thing you wanted to be doing in the heat was any amount of excessive walking. So with that in mind, you’d spent your morning exploring the village and taking in the sights and sounds. The gentle protest of your stomach told you it was lunchtime before you’d even taken the opportunity to glance down at your watch and a quick Google search pointed you in the direction of somewhere to get that all important cup of coffee and a small bite to eat.

Rowayton Market didn’t look like much from the outside in the sense that it was a little on the petite side, but the reviews were great and the coffee was allegedly some of the best in the village and that was good enough for you. You were greeted with the smell of freshly baked goods and ground coffee, which was welcoming enough before you even saw the bright smile of the girl behind the counter. Your eyes drifted over the selection of pastries, each one more delicious looking than the last and you knew that you were going to have a hard time choosing just one. You knew you’d have to make a decision, though, suddenly aware of the small line that had seemingly materialised right out of thin air behind you and while you were sure that these people were more accustomed to a slower pace of life, the city girl in you, who was so used to living life in the fast lane, didn’t want to keep these good people waiting while you deliberated. You’d go with your usual and that would be that.

Chris’s attention was fixed out of the large glass windows at the front of the shop, watching as people milled in the street and went about their daily business. It was something he quite often did, whether he was here or back home in New York. There was something oddly soothing about watching the world go by, he thought, and occasionally he’d catch something that would quirk his lips up into a smile, like the sight before him now of a rather large gull in the process of committing larceny against what he could only assume was an unsuspecting tourist. Their sandwich was held high above their head while their free hand attempted to shoo the bird away with little success. He chuckled quietly to himself then, not least because the gulls seemed to get more brazen with each year that passed and he was sure that one of these days he’d see someone’s lunch get snatched right out of their hand by the feathered menaces.

Chris had no reason at all to believe as he stood in that line that everything was about to change. Why would he? The day had started like any other. He’d picked up his groceries in this store more times than he could count, he’d waited in a line just like this one for his coffee and Danish and yet, in that moment, something as innocuous as a woman’s voice would bring feelings that he thought he was done with, and memories he thought had strayed out of his mind for good, flooding back to the surface. But it wasn’t just any woman’s voice, no, it wasn’t as detached and neutral as that. It was your voice; a voice he hadn’t heard in nine years and it was something as simple as a coffee order, an order that he now knew to have remained the same since the day you’d first met at Boston College all those years ago, that blew the dam wide open and every word the two of you had ever spoken, from day one to the last thing you ever said to him, came rushing back.

The sound of Chris’s voice calling your name was something you never thought you’d hear out loud again. It was a voice you’d only heard in your dreams for many years after he walked out of your life, but even that had faded beyond memory to where you weren’t a hundred percent certain that you’d be able to remember what it sounded like anymore. And yet, in the middle of a tiny supermarket in Rowayton, you heard him clear as day with his tongue rolling around the syllables of your name with the same fondness, even after all this time and it was like you’d never forgotten the sound at all.

*

Autumn was beginning to make her presence felt in Boston. The palette on campus had shifted from a spectrum of vivid greens to shades of deep russet, amber, ochre and vermillion; but even above the changing leaves, the turning of the calendar brought a slight chill to the air that had you reaching for your jacket on a morning as you left your dorm.

Today was no different. The temperature had dropped again overnight as November creeped ever closer and it was chilly enough that you had to draw your coat tighter around you as you walked across campus towards class. Your brisk pace had bought you enough time to make a stop at the coffee stand just outside of Campion where your first class of the day was being held. There was a decent selection on offer, but it wasn’t enough to sway you from ordering your usual.

You rooted around your backpack for your wallet while the barista prepared your coffee and grabbed you your cinnamon roll, unaware of the new presence to your right, before handing over the money and taking the coffee and pastry bag from the young man’s hands.

“Coffee and cinnamon roll, eh? Now that’s the breakfast of champions.”

You turned your head towards the source of the voice, lips quirking into a small smile at the sight of the stranger beside you who looked to be not much older than you were, incredibly tall and broad for his apparent age but not for his height. He was grinning at you with a fullness that made his eyes crinkle at the corners and gave him a unique kind of softness.

“My mom would disagree,” you replied with a smirk. “If she found out I was having this for breakfast she’d be in her car so fast and dragging my ass back to Hartford.”

He laughed at that, loud and bright with his head tipped back slightly before running a hand through his dark brown hair that was shorter on the sides but had the faintest hint of a curl at the longer strands on top.

“I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not telling her,” you grinned as you swung your backpack over one shoulder. “So looks like you’re sworn to secrecy.”

You studied him for a brief moment, with the way he was still grinning at you and his eyes that seemed to sparkle behind his dark lashes before your brain gently reminded you that you, in fact, had somewhere you needed to be. “Well, I hate to impose a vow of silence on you like some sort of mafia boss and then immediately split but I uh I gotta head to class.”

“No problem at all and hey, your secret is safe with me. In fact, I’ve forgotten already. What were we talking about?”

There it was again, that smile of his that made you want to stay rooted right where you were standing and look at it all day, but class beckoned and so you gave an awkward wave of your hand and a soft laugh before you turned and headed into the building behind you without another glance back. If you had you’d have seen the stranger from the coffee stand watch until you’d disappeared from view, with that smile still on his face.

This little routine of yours would continue over the course of the next few weeks. Every Tuesday morning, at around 8:45am, you’d find yourself stood at that coffee stand outside of Campion to get your coffee and cinnamon roll, and every Tuesday morning, at around 8:46am, the tall stranger would appear beside you with his kind eyes and his bright smile. You’d exchange a ‘hello’ and a friendly grin and you’d laugh more often than not too while you made pleasant small talk before you both said your goodbyes and went to your respective classes, though you would always leave first and he would watch you go until you’d disappeared into the building.

It was mid-November, now, and the campus of Boston College was firmly in autumn’s frigid grasp. The temperatures continued to drop, seemingly overnight, which had you bundled up in your hat and scarf and the trees had shed their branches of leaves, crunching underfoot with the slight frost as you made your way towards Campion. Your hands were shoved deep into your coat pockets to ward off the gnawing chill and you were looking forward to being able to warm them around your coffee cup.

You approached the stand as normal, rooting through your backpack for your wallet ready to order.

“Hey!”

You looked up, your features fixed in a state of mild confusion while you looked for the source of the voice you recognised but couldn’t quite place. It was then you saw him though, all bright eyed and bushy tailed with a medium coffee and pastry bag held up in one of his large hands as if on display. He was grinning at you and cocked his head, beckoning you over with the wordless gesture.

“Hey, yourself,” you smiled as you approached. “What’s this then?” You tilted your head slightly at the items in his hand as he offered them to you.

“Breakfast of champions.”

Your eyebrow quirked as you took the coffee from him before taking a tentative sip, smiling while the warm liquid slid down your throat.

“You got my coffee order right.”

“It wasn’t hard,” he smirked. “You order the same thing every week and if you open that little paper bag I think you’ll find a cinnamon roll in there.”

Sure enough, as you opened the bag you were greeted with the sight of a perfectly formed cinnamon roll and you couldn’t help the grin that sparked at your lips and spread the full width of your face.

“I don’t order the same thing every week.”

“You do,” he replied with a laugh. “Every Tuesday for the last 5 weeks you’ve come to this coffee stand and ordered a medium Americano with half and half and a cinnamon roll and every Tuesday for the last 5 weeks I’ve been meaning to ask you your name.”

Your face flushed warm at that, not only at his words but at the sure little smile he was giving you and the way his eyes were sparkling. In fact, now that you were really looking at him properly, you were knocked back a bit by the perpetual kindness that seemed to rest in them and you couldn’t help but notice how they really were the perfect shade of hazel, like a forest with a deep bark heart surrounded by leaves that were every shade of green. You’d been quiet a little too long though and so you took a settling sip of coffee to give you enough time to find your voice again and tell him your name.

“Nice to meet you,” he smiled as he offered you his hand, which was large and warm as you shook it.

“And who should I thank for the coffee?” you asked.

His smile grew into a grin then, the kind that you’d noticed over the course of the last few weeks that made his eyes crinkle and happiness radiate from him, before simply replying:

“Chris.”

*

“Chris?”

It was as if time had stood still in that little Market in Rowayton, where your surroundings become a still-frame and there’s nothing but static in your ears. You’d often thought about what it would have been like to see him again. Those first couple of years after he’d left Boston College had you imagining all kinds of scenarios, much like the one you were in right now where you’d bump into each other in a supermarket or a pharmacy, anywhere really, but now that you were living it, seeing it, breathing it, there was nothing you could have conjured up in your imagination that would have prepared you for what it would really feel like to see him again. If you were to be completely honest, you were glad that your coffee and cinnamon roll were still on the top of the counter because you were certain that they would have fallen right out of your hands and onto the Market floor.

He abandoned his position in the line then, as if you speaking his name was a call to him, and maybe it was, on some level, but the truth and simplicity of it was that you were suspended in a state of pure disbelief and even in the short time it took for him to close the distance between you both, you were still yet to move and fix your features to something more neutral.

“Hey.”

It was a simple greeting that he gave you and logically you knew that there wasn’t really any tangible meaning behind that single word he spoke and yet there was something about the look in his eyes and the warmth in the smile he gave you.

“It’s been a while.”

“It has,” you replied, finally finding your voice. “You look, you look good.”

It wasn’t a lie either, he did look good. The tall college boy you remembered, who was just a little too slight for his height, had filled out; you could tell that just from the way the fabric of his t-shirt stretched across the broad plains of his chest and strained around his biceps, and he was no longer clean shaven, which was something that had always made him look quite baby-faced. Instead he was sporting a neatly trimmed goatee and while he had kept his hair short on the sides, just like you’d remembered it, it was longer on the top than it had been in college and the curls were sweeping in a way that reminded you of the waves just beyond the Market door. He looked older, yes, which is exactly what you would have expected in the nine years since you’d last seen him but his eyes were still exactly the same, sparkling and full of mischief , yet still soft, perhaps even softer than before on account of the faint lines around them drawn by time’s fair hand.

“So do you,” he grinned. “You cut your hair.”

“I did,” you looked down as your face flushed with warmth, unsure exactly what you were supposed to say to him.

It was something you’d thought about during those imagined scenarios where you’d magically bump into each other again and you’d thought about all of the things that you would say to him. You would tell him about how much you’d cried when he left you behind to live out his boyhood dream and how angry you were that he didn’t want you to be a part of that, how it felt like all the plans you’d ever talked about were nothing more than empty words and how hurt that had made you feel. You felt like you at least deserved that, especially given that it was never just a casual fling between you both. After all, you’d been practically inseparable for two years. You’d been inseparable ever since he’d said those three words that mean so much. But now that he was here in front of you, all those words that had swirled around in your head and in your chest like a hurricane for so long, dissipated into nothing and you found yourself clutching at straws to find something, anything, to say.

Chris could sense this though. Of course he could because he was Chris and he had always been so in tune with you and your emotions and the fact that he was still able to read you so well was both a comfort and a knife in your chest, and while he internally grimaced at the fact he was having to fall back on using small talk between you both, he felt like it was what you needed in the moment. He wouldn’t expect things to go back to how they were after all this time, he couldn’t, and so he started with something simple, something he knew you would be able give him an answer to.

“So, what brings you to sunny Rowayton?”

“I could ask you the same question,” you replied.

“Ah,” Chris grinned, trying to keep the mood light. “See I asked you first and also, I live here so therefore the ‘question answering’ responsibility falls back to you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, at both his words and the silly little expression he was wearing and despite all the years that sat between you both like a void and all of your hurt that was held within it, it all seemed to briefly melt away and in that moment it was like you were back at that little coffee stand outside of Campion.

“I didn’t realise this was an interrogation. Wait is this one of those little weird cult towns? Should I be worried?”

Chris knew by the little smirk you were wearing that you meant no malice behind your words and so he responded by sucking in air through his teeth before speaking again with one of those smiles that went all the way up to his eyes.

“Watch it, Pickle.”

Your stomach fell right into your shoes in that moment, that name he used only for you slipped from his lips like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to do, like he’d never stopped calling you it and like it hadn’t been nine years since you’d last spoke a word to one another. Chris knew all this of course and he didn’t need to rely on intuition either because he could see every emotion written all over your face.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly on the exhale of a breath. “I um.. Force of habit, I guess.”

“It’s okay,” you muttered, not quite meeting his eyes. “Although not exactly ‘habit’, it’s been how long?”

Chris winced at that, the reality of how he left things between you both slapping him in the face and he was filled with the guilt that he’d spent almost a decade pushing out of his chest and shoving into the darkest corner of his memory where he would hope it would rest undisturbed. He knew that you were angry at him for leaving things the way he did, how could you not be? After all, he was the one who had broken your heart and left you in Boston, but it was never as simple as that, even back then there was so much he should have said but that was something he wouldn’t realise until much later when it was too late to repair the damage. The thinly veiled hurt in your eyes and the way your mouth was downturned was demonstrative of that fact.

“I know,” he all but whispered. “It just-“

“It’s fine, Chris. Can we just forget about it? Please?”

He nodded, watching with a quiet kind of sadness on his features as you turned to finally pick your coffee and cinnamon roll up off the counter before he cleared his throat softly to continue speaking.

“You never did say what brought you into town.”

You took a sip of coffee to give yourself long enough to settle the thundering in your chest before answering him, because for all your heart felt like it was about to burst from all the hurt you’d managed to hide away up until now, there was also a weird sense of nostalgia that came with seeing him and hearing his voice again, and even though he’d shattered your heart completely when he decided he no longer wanted you in his life, your mother had raised you right and you knew the proper thing to do was to indulge him in a little small talk, even if for nothing more than old time’s sake.

“Just here for the weekend,” you replied. “Work has been nuts lately and I needed some time away from home.”

Chris shuffled on his feet for a moment as you spoke while his eyes darted between you and the door that would lead to the outside world and the possibility of the two of you parting once more. It was an unexpected pull that he felt in his chest at that thought, you reappearing in his life out of the blue only to slip out of it just as suddenly by doing something as simple as walking out of that supermarket back out into the wide world. For nine years he’d thought about where you were, what you were doing, if you were okay, if you were happy and with each year that passed without seeing your face or hearing your voice, he’d resigned himself to the fact that you were lost to him, drifting out there in the seas of life never to see you again. He didn’t know why you’d suddenly come back to him now, whether by some stroke of luck or twist of fate, although Chris couldn’t have cared less which one it was. All he cared about was the fact that you were here at all and it was an opportunity that he was sure he wasn’t going to waste. He didn’t even know for certain that you would want to give him any of your time after what had happened when he left Boston, but he wanted to at least give you what he should have all those years ago and that was an explanation and an opportunity for you to tell him how his actions had made you feel.

“Hey, what are you up to this afternoon?”

“Not much,” you shrugged. “I was just going to sit on Bayley Beach and enjoy the nice weather.”

“Would you mind some company? No pressure, of course, I understand if you… I understand if you’d rather not want to spend any time with me.”

You exhaled then and Chris’s shoulders visibly sagged, bracing himself for your polite refusal, but your response was not one that he was expecting and truthfully, it wasn’t one that you had expected either.

“Honestly?” you started, getting swept up in the nostalgia of seeing him again before the rational part of your brain could catch up. “That would be nice.”

“Great,” he smiled in what you could see was pure relief. “Do you mind if I grab a coffee before we head out?”

“Sure,” you replied. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

You headed out the door and were sure to stand where Chris could see you, knowing him well enough to realise that he’d be worrying, at least on some level, that you’d slip off into the crowd. You’d never do that to him, of course, even after everything, because while he had broken your heart, he was also the first person you’d ever truly loved and when you’d put the pieces back together, you couldn’t help but keep a part of him wrapped up amongst the tape and string holding those pieces together while you healed. It was in doing that that you understood that he would always have a special place in your heart and honestly? You were kind of okay with that because while the ending hadn’t exactly been perfect, the two years you’d spent together were and you wouldn’t have changed that time for anything.

*

You weren’t sure what exactly had possessed you to let Chris talk you into venturing off campus and out in the early-February snow to get burgers at Eagle’s Deli but you were cursing those sparkling eyes and that roguish grin of his for wearing down your sensibilities as you righted yourself after what felt like the hundredth near-fall. It was slushy underfoot, the kind that’s a twisted ankle or sprained knee waiting to happen and while you’d dressed weather appropriately in your winter boots and heavy parka, you were still very newborn lamb-like in your movements which was amusing Chris to no end.

“Come on, slowpoke,” he called from up ahead as he grinned at you over his shoulder.

“Not all of us can be hockey prodigies and thrive in this kind of inclement weather,” you grumbled, shuffling slowly so as not to slip.

Chris laughed as he came back towards you with confident and purposeful steps, surprising you when he offered his arm for you to loop yours through.

“Now, I’m no expert in geography or meteorology but it snows in Hartford, no?”

He was grinning at you, the kind of grin that you had to fight with every fibre of your being not to reciprocate because you’d already committed to your grumpy act and you couldn’t have him thinking he’d cracked you already, even if he, in fact, had.

“Yes,” you stressed. “But I don’t make a habit of going out in it to get burgers like a crazy person.”

The cackle you received from him in reply was loud and a little wild and you couldn’t help but be completely captivated by the way his cheeks were ruddy from the cold and the snowflakes clinging to the curls on top of his head and long eyelashes. Tuesday morning coffees with him outside of Campion before class had turned into coffees in actual cafes during free periods and getting lunch together. It was even dragging your body out into the cold to the Alumni Stadium with your blanket and your thermos to watch Chris play with the BC Eagles because you couldn’t say no to that damn smile and those damn eyes and even now, as you looked at him taking in the scenery along the Chestnut Hill Reservoir pathway, you knew that they were going to be the death of you.

“It’s really pretty along here,” he spoke, more quietly than before; softer too. “You wouldn’t think we were in the middle of Boston.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice walk,” you agreed before shooting him a smirk and a look. “Would be nice in the spring sunshine too.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, Little Miss Chilly.”

“I don’t know what you have against being warm, Kreider. Warm is good, warm is nice-“

You shrieked as your feet went out from under you, courtesy of a patch of black ice hidden under slushy snow and you squeezed your eyes shut in preparation for the impact of your ass hitting the cold, hard ground. But it never came.

“It’s okay,” Chris spoke reassuringly, one hand tight around your bicep while his other arm was curled around your waist, holding you upright. “I’ve got you.”

You opened your eyes then to be met with Chris’s looking right at you, all moss and bark and warm. He was smiling at you but it was different to the easy grin he usually wore around you, this was softer somehow and all rational thought was replaced by one of those monkeys playing the cymbals. For the briefest of seconds, and for reasons completely unknown to you, the monkey tried to take the wheel and the idea of kissing him right there, in the middle of the pathway that had made an attempt on your life, flashed into your head.

Maybe it was the snow and how perfect and picturesque the scene around you felt? Maybe it was the fact he’d just saved you from slipping? But the reality of it was that those eyes and that smile held some sort of power over you that you couldn’t yet fully understand. You shook your head quickly, if only to take back control of the situation before you did something more embarrassing than almost falling on your ass.

“Thanks,” you muttered as you regained your composure. “This damn pathway.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Chris grinned as he turned so his back was to you and stooped slightly. “Hop on.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“I never joke about piggy-backs,” he replied in a faux solemn tone with the face to match. “Come on, we’ll get you to the Deli in one piece one way or another.”

And that was how you ended up with your arms looped around Chris’s shoulders and his strong hands holding the backs of your legs as he carried you on his back to Eagle’s Deli.

Not twenty minutes later, the pair of you were shuffling into a booth as you shed your coats, gloves and scarves, Chris grinning at you while you blew on your fingers in an attempt to restore warmth into them.

“See, told you I’d get you here in one piece.”

You scoffed at him and shot a playful glance across the table separating you both.

“You’re not human, that is the only explanation for how you’re able to walk in that,” you nodded towards the window where the snow was still falling to illustrate your point before continuing, “and not fall flat on your face.”

“Or my ass,” he added with a grin.

“Hey, that never actually happened!”

Chris’s face split into an even bigger smile at your little protest and the pout that had formed on your lips and while the gentle teasing between you was simply a part of the dynamic of your friendship, Chris would have been lying if he didn’t admit that the reason he did it so often was because you always looked so adorable trying to rebut him.

“No, you’re right. It didn’t,” he mused with a smirk, not needing to remind you that it was him who had come to your rescue judging from the unimpressed look you were throwing his way.

“All I’m saying is that we could’ve just gone to Hillside for lunch.”

“But the burgers here are superior,” he countered, smiling at you. “And you got to enjoy a beautiful walk in the snow with me so who’s the real winner he- mmpf!”

Chris was cut off by your damp mitten hitting his face, brows knitting into a slight frown before laughing at the proud grin you wore at the accuracy of your throw.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he said with mock hurt.

“Maybe I’m not a very nice person.”

“I don’t believe that for one second,” he replied, but there was no teasing in his tone this time, only the kind of sincerity that had your face flushing warm and had you reaching for the menu to hide behind under the pretence of looking at the choices available.

He couldn’t help but smile at the awkwardness with which you were trying and failing to hide from him but soon joined you in picking up a menu and perusing it, despite already knowing what he was going to order.

It was a few moments before the waitress came over and while neither of you spoke the silence between you both wasn’t exactly awkward even though Chris knew there was something about his last words that had had some kind of effect on you. He was right, of course, because despite the fact that you’d had hold of this menu for a good couple of minutes already, you hadn’t actually looked at a single thing on it even though you’d made such a show of doing just that and now that Chris had ordered, a cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate milkshake, the waitress was looking at you expectantly. Unable to form any kind of rational thought under that kind of pressure, you found yourself simply saying “same” and soon enough it was just you and Chris at the table once more.

Chris was looking at you like he had something he wanted to say and the unreadable expression on his face had you feeling somewhat uneasy for reasons you hadn’t quite ascertained but probably understood on some level if you let yourself think about it for more than a second. He could feel the nervous energy radiating from you though and so rather than pursue his current train of thought, he picked a topic of conversation that was much safer and knew you’d be comfortable with: school.

You talked about your classes and upcoming assignments while he listened intently and you returned the favour while he spoke earnestly about hockey and his own academic workload. It was so easy to settle into a natural rhythm with Chris whenever you talked, as if you’d been having conversations like these for years when in fact it had only been a few months of knowing him and a few weeks of meeting up like this. None of that seemed to really matter though, not when the conversation was good and the chemistry felt right and especially not when it was clear that you were both on the same page when it came to your friendship. There was something else there though, something that was beyond being purely platonic, that much was becoming crystal clear and yet despite the ease in which it was to talk to him about literally anything else, there was something that had you stumbling over the thought of bringing it up.

You were saved from falling down that particular rabbit hole by the reappearance of the waitress, two burgers that were big enough to have your eyes popping out of your head in her hands. Chris chuckled from behind his milkshake at the look of disbelief on your face as your burger was set down in front of you before he reached for the bottle of ketchup between you both. You took the top of your burger bun off, nose immediately wrinkling at the sight of four pickle slices resting on top of the lettuce and tomato.

“Ugh, I forgot to ask for no pickles.”

Chris looked up from where he was squirting ketchup onto his bun, his eyes meeting yours briefly as his face split into a grin.

“You’re not one of those people, are you?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you began to pick the offensive green menaces off your food and set them at the edge of your plate. “I like what I like.”

Chris reached across and began to transfer the pickles from your plate to his burger, smiling widely at you as he did so.

“Well, I might have found a solution to this particular pickle you find yourself in,” he chuckled at the exaggerated groan and roll of your eyes at the expense of his joke. “You see, I love pickles.”

“You love anything,” you countered. “You’re like a human dumpster.”

“Hurtful,” he replied as he clutched at his chest. “But also true so I’ll allow it.”

You picked up a fry from your plate and threw it at him, immediately filled with equal parts surprise and a strange sense of awe as he reflexively moved and caught it in his mouth.

“You really are a dumpster,” you grinned as you shook your head at the proud little smile he was giving you.

“I am, so how about you don’t ask for no pickles on your burgers and you just give ‘em to me instead?”

It was easy to agree to his proposal, not least because his logic actually made a lot of sense when you thought about it, but mostly because of the way his eyes were sparkling and the way his smile made you feel warm all over, like the falling snow and freezing air outside didn’t exist, like your fingers and toes hadn’t been numbed by the biting cold during your walk here, like there had only ever been sunshine. It was also why you’d agreed to let him carry you back through the snow to your dorm, his large hands hooked around the backs of your thighs and your arms draped over his shoulders much like during the walk to the diner. You’d protested initially, of course, not wanting to burden Chris or put you both at risk of an injury due to the slippery conditions, but he wasn’t about to be convinced otherwise and remained unperturbed by the weather, gently reminding you that he had in fact got you to the diner in one piece in the first instance at your objections.

Truthfully, despite the mild embarrassment you felt at your complete ineptitude when it came to walking on ice, you couldn’t help but be more than a little impressed at Chris’s sheer strength. You wondered then, about how hard he must work in the gym to develop such a strong core because while you knew from first-hand experience how slippery it was underfoot, he didn’t falter once throughout the entire walk home and with the way he was talking amiably about his favourite places in the city he called home, and how his hands were holding your legs so surely and securely, you felt safe as houses with your chest pressed into his back – even with your thick coats and layers of winter clothing between you.

He walked with you on his back right up to the entrance of your dorm, setting you down carefully on the pathway that looked to have been newly shovelled before he turned to face you, his cheeks once again ruddy from the cold and your walk home.

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ twice in one day,” he grinned, sucking air in through his teeth and shaking his head slightly. “But didn’t I say that I’d get you home safely?”

“So what if you were right twice?” you rebutted with a playful nudge. “It’s not like it’s ever gonna happen again.”

“Watch it, Pickle. I’ll have you know that I’m right about a lot of things.”

“Pickle?” you barked out a laugh, watching as Chris walked slowly backwards down the path away from you with that smile still on his face. “What kind of a name is that? I don’t even like pickles.”

“I know,” he called out into the growing distance between you both. “But I do, remember?”

You shook your head at him, chuckling to yourself with a smile on your lips that mirrored his as you watched him.

“See ya Tuesday then, Trash Can!” you hollered.

His raucous cackle cut through the silent flurry as he continued to walk slowly backwards, his grin clear as day even through the falling snowflakes.

“Trash Can! Fucking, Trash Can! Man, you got some serious chirps, Pickle. Can you throw hands too? I mean, I know you suck at keeping your balance on the ice but we could use an enforcer! I could push you around?”

“Anytime, anywhere!” you laughed, watching him with a grin until he had waved his goodbye and turned away before he retreated into the heavy snow.

Part ii

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 2

Shigaraki Birthday Celebration! 18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, brief male masturbation, tags will be added for smut in the next two parts

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which studying is done, unwilling connections are made, and Tomura thinks about the way you smell a totally normal amount. 

AO3 mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg​ (just shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged!

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen. 

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library.  But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him. 

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering. 

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant. 

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

                                                                                                     sounds good— 

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating. 

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t do shit like this. 

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches. 

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.” 

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager. 

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door. 

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors. 

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit. 

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor. 

You made a fucking power point for him. 

This couldn’t be real. 

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…” 

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in. 

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga. 

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations. 

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts. 

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him. 

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen. 

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled. 

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for. 

It was...good. 

And that so fucking annoying. 

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids. 

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and— 

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.” 

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him. 

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to. 

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday. 

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze. 

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into. 

“What’s your major?” 

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before. 

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear. 

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment. 

But, obviously you didn’t. 

So he didn’t. 

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope. 

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut. 

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side. 

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case. 

“Are you talking about The League?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.  

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings. 

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger. 

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought. 

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone. 

You should narrate those fucking sleepy time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much. 

Or no, no he would definitely mind. 

Yes. It would have been worse if anything. 

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.” 

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room. 

Weird. 

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. 

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at. 

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit after all. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion.

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere? 

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word. 

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head. 

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard. 

It...grew on him. 

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session. 

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack. 

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room. 

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing. 

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly. 

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction. 

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.” 

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly. 

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin study room whenever I want.” 

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.” 

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.” 

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.” 

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward. 

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers. 

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.” 

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations. 

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach. 

But it was only because you were hot. 

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background. 

Yeah. 

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough. 

Right?

[antiherocorner]

Niki Lauda - The White Wolf

A Werewolf! Niki Lauda x Reader fic (18+)

Headcanons: 

So... This is my first AU ever... And also this is my first smut... Kind of... Thing... Ever... Sex scene, let's go with that... I was debating to post it in smaller parts, or a bigger one. I decided the second one might be better.

This is a mess, and a random idea... This could be a psychedelic trip, while you're watching fucking Twilight... Yes, I am familiar with the Twilight Saga... No, I wasn't Team Jacob... No, I didn't intend to base this on that... But it might has some similar stuff (no vampires)... Small stuff... All of them were unintentional, really.... Well... 1 or 2 things weren't, but most of them.

English is still not my native language, apologies for the grammatical mistakes, I tried.

Taglist: @rumblelibrary (you are my first tag in a fic written by me aaaaaaa🥺❤️🔥)

Summary: Your car broke down while you're on a road trip, on your own. You need someone to fix it. There's a small town. What could possibly happen?...

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (don't do it kids), swearing, possibly smoking, drinking, mention of scar (nothing big or serious), google translated German, bad dog jokes, puns, and no, i didn't make a "real" wolf fuck the Reader, i'm not that kinky, i imagined the Reader to be female, but can be gender neutral, no name, or age mentioned, no use of y/n either... That's it?... Idunno, still new to this

(collage made by me, i don't own the pictures, i just used them, it's also very amateur, I haven't done a collage in ages)

🐺🤍❤️

You were in your car ‘till your waist. The damn thing broke down half way into your road trip. You have had enough of your monotonous everyday life, so you decided to pack up the essential stuff of yours, get your car together, and head out into the unknown. You have already seen beautiful mountains from a distance, gone through deep, mysterious forests, taken many pictures. You have tried to live in your car, but occasionally you have stayed in some cheap, low budget motels for 1 or 2 nights. You always had trust in your car, yet there you were. It didn’t run out of gas, it just suddenly stopped in the middle of the road, just outside of a small town. It looked rather friendly, and not busy at all. There wasn’t any other car passing by, so you did what you thought was the best decision: packed your bag, locked the car, and started walking into the town, praying to find someone, anyone really, who can maybe lend a helping hand.

The people you saw were really kind, it seemed they didn’t really get too many outsiders in their small town, and they seemed happy for you. They told you that there was one car mechanic in the town, a little group of guys. They also told you about a motel, which was always open for travellers, and due to the lack of them, it was basically empty. You decided to go to the motel first. The receptionist was a friendly old lady, who, again, got very excited to finally have someone at her place. You got your room, for a very small price, went in and unpacked some of your stuff. You really wanted to know what was up with your car, or if it could be fixed at all, so you didn’t waste much time in your new temporary place. After a few minutes you headed out to the streets, to the direction where you were told before to find the mechanics.

It was one of those warm days, so you were glad you found what you were looking for. You heard music coming out of an open garage. Above the doors you read “The Rat's Den”.

- Hello?... - you popped your head in the garage.

- Can I help you with something? - a tall, blonde haired man, with broad shoulders approached you. He had a cheeky smile on his face, sweat under his long locks. Oh, and shirtless.

- I uhm.. My car broke down just down the main road - you gestured with your hand where your car was - And I was just wondering if you could help me with it… I don’t know what could be the problem, I have been traveling with it for the past few days, weeks, everything was fine up until now. I just can’t get it to work.

- Sure, we can take a look at that thing - you turned your head to the direction from where another voice caught your attention. Another man just slipped out from under a car. He had curly hair, slimmer body than the blonde one, but still tall. You looked him in the eye as he came over. His eyes were like a river of caramel pudding, and they were glowing like a forest fire in the middle of the night. Your mouth watered.

- Thank.. You… - you said shyly. What’s happening? You normally aren't this shy… - When can you do that?

- Are you staying in that old motel? - asked the curly one.

- Yes.

- Alright. Is that good, if I go there around 7 am tomorrow, so I can take a look at it before I open the garage?

- Y-yeah… sure.

- It’s a date then. I’m Niki Lauda, by the way, that’s James Hunt. - he gestured towards the blonde one, James. You didn’t even notice him leaving you two. You told him your name.

- It was nice meeting you. I’ll be there at 7.

- Okay. See you then. And thank you.

- It’s no problem.

And with that you headed out of the garage. You turned back before you completely went outside. You saw a tattoo on James' right shoulder. You didn’t see every detail, but you felt a strange feeling. Unconsciously your eyes wandered to Niki. He was wearing a white shirt, but you could still see a glimpse of something similar, at least as you guessed, just under his neck. Strange.

You went back to the motel. You couldn’t go to sleep during the night so easily. You had a weird feeling about The Rat’s Den. Some kind of an aura was around it. It looked like any other garages where they repair cars and that’s it, but not there. There was something. You couldn’t really describe what you were feeling, or grasp what you should even be looking for. Something was up, you were sure about that.

🐺🤍❤️

After a few hours of sleep, you woke up. Niki could be here any minute now. You freshened up a little bit, you felt like shit due to the lack of sleep. Suddenly, you heard a loud car noise. You were the only one there at the motel, you guessed that was Niki. Honk. Yes, most definitely. You opened the door for an old, shiney Ferrari, with Niki sitting at the front.

- You’re coming or no, Schatzi?

You blushed by the petname, but quickly composed yourself, locked your room’s door, and jumped into the passenger seat. The man asked you about where you left your car. You answered and he drove to the correct directions. The short journey was mostly silent, with small talks. You stared out of the window, so you missed the spectating eyes of his.

- You’re good? You look exhausted…

- I’m okay, I just haven’t slept much. - you turned to him.

- Well, that makes the two of us.

You looked at him with curious eyes, but he remained silent, eyes focused on the road. You couldn’t read him, but tried to observe his features. He was pale, especially his knuckles as he was basically suffocating that poor wheel. He was taking deep and slow breaths. He looked like he was having a hard time in his own car.

- Is that your car? - Niki snapped you out of your thoughts.

- Yes, yes, that’s it.

Niki stopped his car in front of yours. You got out, and walked to it. He asked for your keys, so he could open the hood of the car. You took them out of your packet, then placed them in his open palm. Fingers briefly touched. He was warm. Surprisingly warm. For a moment you thought you heard him sharply inhale, but he quickly busied himself with your car. He has a nice butt. You immediately scolded yourself and turned your back to him, leaning on the side of the car, while he was working. After a few minutes, awkward silence, and some rattling, he straightened himself and turned to you.

- The engine gave up. Although it’s nothing serious or expensive, it will take some day to fix it properly, so it won’t die again. - so I stuck here yey - How long will you stay?

- As long as I don’t have a car I guess… - you massaged your nose, the lack of sleep started to catch up - I took it to a mechanic before I left… That’s just great…

- Well, that asshole did a shit job… It’s obvious what’s wrong, and it didn’t happen overnight. - he shrugged and closed the hood - I can’t take it back to the garage now, but during the afternoon I will come back for it with a more usable car.

- Sounds like a plan - you nodded and extended your arm to take your keys back.

Your fingers brushed against his, again, but this time the contact shot electricity up in your arm, which caused you to drop the keys. You instantly crouched after it, but what you grabbed weren’t your keys. It was a hand. Niki’s hand. How does he have these quick reflexes? You looked up, still holding his hand, and just realized that your faces were just a few centimeters away from each other. Both of you froze. Niki even seemed like he wasn’t breathing. His eyes were on yours, before he looked down to your lips. You licked them unconsciously. He purred. What?

- We should get back to the town.

He jumped up, leaving your keys on the ground. You tried to get yourself together, picked up your keys and sat back into his car. The way back to the garage was in complete silence. He didn’t purr, did he? He just breathed weirdly… I am imagining stuff… Right? You were confused.

🐺🤍❤️

Not much happened during the rest of the day. You tried to look around the little place, bought some food and just relaxed in your room. When the sun started to settle down you realized that you didn’t give your car keys back to Niki. You left each other in such a hurry, after he took you back to his garage, none of you had it in mind. You couldn’t call him, you didn’t have his number, and you didn’t really want to walk there. Throughout the whole day you had a strange feeling. Something was definitely up. You just felt it in your guts. Niki was like any other man and yet, he had an aura that just gave off some vibes which you just couldn’t grasp, no matter how hard you tried. You were pacing in your room when you looked out of your window. A red Ferrari just stopped in front of the motel. What, is he a mind reader too? You opened your door, spinning your keys in the air with your right hand.

- Catch! - you shouted, throwing them at his back, but before it could hit him, he turned around and caught them in his left hand with incredible accuracy.

You weren't expecting that. He didn’t say anything, just smirked and winked at you, as you locked eyes. You blushed deeply, and he disappeared just as quickly as he came by.

🐺🤍❤️

During the evening, you couldn’t rest. Again. This time you decided to go for a little walk. You weren’t really paying attention to where you were going. You just wandered around the quiet, calm town. It seemed like everyone was fast asleep. Not a single person, not a single soul was up. You arrived at a little dirt road which was leading you to a forest, next to your temporary home. You didn’t know why, you followed it. You got to a little field which was shielded with huge trees from the outside world. Some rays of sunshine were still peeking through the bushes, giving it an angelic look. Little red flowers covered your newly found small area. It felt like you were in a fairytale. But you weren’t. You heard a branch break behind you. You turned on your heels, just in time to see a huge, black wolf coming out from the bushes. It looked unusual, there was something in its face, in its eyes that was off. Human? It had a human kind of amused face expression. In the middle of your observation you just realized it was coming close. You panicked. Just when you thought it was going to rip you apart, another one jumped between the two of you, from behind you. This one was white, and slightly bigger. It growled at its own kind, like it was telling him to fuck off. The black wolf looked at you one last time and took off into the trees. The remaining animal calmed down, before it turned to you. It looked majestic. There was something royal in its posture. Around its neck and on his chest it had little patches of curly fur, like a mane. It had a cut on its lip, probably just had a fight, maybe with its prey. It looked deep into your eyes, like it was staring into your soul. There was something familiar in those eyes. The eyes were glowing, and like a river of caramel. Wait. You took a step forward and it instantly disappeared into the shadows. You really did needed to sleep.

🐺🤍❤️

You jolted up in your bed. You were covered in sweat, hair was messy. You massaged your face while you were trying to catch your breath, even your breathing. You looked at the clock. 1:30am. You managed to sleep for about an hour, before the nightmare woke you up. You saw the wolves again. They were circling you. The black one jumped forward and tackled you to the ground. Your sight got blurry, but you could still make out the silhouette of the white one. It changed into a man. It had curly hair. You felt like someone or something was watching you. You walked to the window, and pushed the curtain aside. You saw a wolf, watching you from the otherside of the road. A white wolf. That wolf. You immediately turned around, hands were burying in your hair. What the hell is going on? Am I going crazy? What is this place? A knock on the door caused you to jump. With shake legs and hands, you went to the door and opened it. Niki was leaning on the door jamb, with his left hand.

- What an earth are you… - you started with a confused look but it quickly changed into a shock, your eyes got wide when you looked at his lips. He had a fresh scar there. - There’s no way…

- I can’t do this anymore. You drive me crazy. - he looked at you with a beast-like expression on his face.

- What do y- - you couldn’t finish your question.

Niki technically broke into your room, then kicked the door closed. He didn’t mean to scare you, but he was on the edge of completely losing control over himself. He took a step towards you. You didn’t step back. You couldn’t. That animal look on him made your legs weak, your mouth dry. The lust in his eye made you want him. You licked your lips. That was the last straw for him. The next thing you knew you were thrown against the wall. His mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting like a hungry wolf. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he didn’t plan to go easy and kind on you either. He hooked his hands under your knees, picked you up and you instantly wrapped your legs around his waist. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass and thighs.

- Your smell is intoxicating to me. I still don’t know how did I manage to not to rip your clothes off and fuck you on the hood of your car, when there were just the two of us, alone. - he confessed into your ear, and that made you feel all kinds of incoherent thoughts.

You wanted to answer, but when he sucked on your collarbone, the only thing that came out of your mouth was a moan, which could have been heard in Hell as well. He growled in response, grabbed your shirt on the back, and tore it in half with such ease, letting it fall to the carpet. He took you away from the wall, then placed your back on your bed. He sit up, just to took of his shirt. He placed himself between your legs, arms next to your head to keep himself from crushing you. He looked you deep in the eye. The warm that radiated from him was unbearable. It made your stomach turn in itself. He leaned in to capture your lips, but he stopped just millimeters away from you. There was a silent question in the air. He got his answer when you closed your eyes. When your lips met, you felt like you jumped to another dimension. He tasted like a mixture of cigarette and beer. Your hands found their ways into his curls. His breath stuttered for a second, before letting out a purring sound into your lips and mouth. He liked that. No. He loved that. His left hand wandered down between the two of you, to pull your pants down. You let him. Then it was your turn to free him from his pants. He let you. He was bigger than you would have imagined, and thick. And also hard like a rock. You gently grabbed him to pump him a little bit, but he didn’t let you have your fun for too long. He needed you badly. He wanted to bury himself in you. He pulled your hand away from him, and just as you were to pull your legs up for him to get a better angle, he tightened his grip on your arm a little bit, and turned you around like he just picked up a feather. You got confused for a second but when you felt him at your entrance you put the puzzle together. Oh. He is half wolf after all. And without a second word he trusted his hips toward and filled you up. You pressed your face into your blanket to suppress some of your cry.

- I’m sorry, but you really bring the animal out of me... Meine schöne Beute...- was all he whispered, but waited for a little bit for you, to get used to him, before he started moving.

From slow and sensual trusts, you quickly arrived to needy and shameless fucking. His occasional growles got mixed with your load moans. Niki kept biting your neck and shoulders, and you couldn’t do anything, rather just take it. Not that you had any coherent thoughts about doing anything in that position. As both of you were coming closer to reaching your desires, Niki’s hands found their ways to the back of your own ones, interlocked your fingers, and raised both his and your arms above your heads on the bed. You saw the finish line, but before you could register the checkered flag, your pleasure hit you like a racecar. The man behind you finished the race as a close second. He stayed inside you until he got soft, then collapsed on the bed beside you. After you stopped seeing stars, you looked at him. He was already looking at you with his big caramel eyes. You felt this urge to cuddle him, you were already missing his warmth, although he wasn’t that far from you. He looked like he sensed your thoughts, because he opened one of his arms, invitingly. You quickly snuggled to his side, head on his chest. He was drawing circles on your back with the hand that was behind you. You reached up to the back of his neck, and started to slowly massaging the hair on it. He instantly started purring.

- I love this sound… - you slightly chuckled.

- I can get used to this… - he smiled.

- So am I... - the broken car was long forgotten.

Both of you drifted off to sleep like this, in the arms of each other. The last thing you heard was Niki’s heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. Honk.

You shot your eyes open. You were in your car. In a parking lot. You sit up, confused, trying to solve your thoughts. You were tired, so you stopped to sleep a little bit in your car, before you reached your next destination. Was this all a dream? You climbed over to the driver’s seat. Started the car. Looked in the mirror on your right, on your left, then on the middle one. You saw a little purple spot under your shirt, around your neck. You pulled the shirt aside. A hickey on your collarbone.

🐺🤍❤️

The End?...

[ot7always]

Fractured (Bonus A)

These bonus chapters are not essential to understanding the main plot of the series. However, they exist to expand upon the backstories of different characters and give insight into their relationships.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.4k

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Mafia AU, angst, fluff, (future) smut

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of guns/violence/death, unhealthy coping mechanisms

Rating: 18+

Summary: You’d always known something was strange and different about your “family,” but it wasn’t as though your environment encouraged curiosity from you. You thought you wanted to know all the answers, but nobody ever told you that the more you learned the more pieces of yourself you would leave behind.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait on the next part of this series, life has been super super hectic! I debated whether I wanted to post part 4 before or after this bonus chapter, but for the sake of characterization and the fact that I know some of you guys are interested, I decided to do this first. But don’t worry – part 4 will be coming soon regardless!

Chronologically, this chapter takes place from Yoongi’s perspective in Chapter 2. 

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

--

He didn’t even plan to go to the gym. But for some reason, the loudest room somehow had the worst soundproofing in the entire house.

He had only gone outside for a quick breather before heading up to rest, but muffled grunts reached his ears before he made it anywhere near the stairs.

There was no question who they belonged to, and his body turned back toward the gym door before he’d even consciously decided to take a look. Not that there was ever any chance that he would leave you there alone.

He was sure you would hate that he felt the need to check on you, but he couldn’t help it. You had a habit of going too hard too fast and suffering for it later. He told himself that it was investigating for everyone’s best interest – that you had a mission at dawn, and you needed to be fully intact and rested. Not because his heart lurched at the notion of you suffering in there alone, pushing your body past its limit with that empty, lost look in your eyes.

Sneaking in without catching your attention was easy. He doubted that slipping in through the door and silently closing it behind him was even necessary. Not with the way you were going at that punching bag, your forehead glistening with sweat. He couldn’t fully see your expression from his angle, but with the way your jaw was clenched, face screwed up almost to hold back tears, he doubted you were fully present.

It wasn’t his first time finding you like this. Sometimes you’d run laps. Sometimes you’d do so many push-ups his body hurt just looking at you. Sometimes he’d even find you shooting target after target in the shooting range one building over.

But more than anything, you boxed.

You’d told him once that the repetitive sound of glove on punching bag lulled you into the best trance.

With the way your words hit him in the gut that day, perhaps he would have been better off not asking.

Though, you hadn’t always used this as an escape. At least, he didn’t think so. Not with the way you used to laugh and joke with him in that very spot maybe 5 or 6 years ago. Before they stole that ecstatic grin from your face, your eyes squinting slightly at the corners. When was the last time he saw that smile on your face?

He winced at the sight of your bare fists hitting the punching bag with a concerningly loud thud, feeling as though he could hear your knuckles splitting at this very moment.

The entire scenario drudged up a memory that typically remained buried deep in his subconscious – it hurt too much to think that he might have witnessed the turning point of your entire character.

He’d found you almost exactly like this.

He knew something was wrong as soon as you returned home.

If he didn’t know from personal experience, your silence was telling enough. The way you kept scratching at your hands, breaths shakily leaving your lips. He hadn’t ever seen you so uneasy, so fearful.

It fucked you up, witnessing your first murder.

It was a mistake letting you out of his sight before he could make sure you were okay. Because as soon as he went to his room to clean up, he couldn’t find you anywhere.

You weren’t in your room, weren’t in anyone else’s room, weren’t in any of the bathrooms.

He made it through almost the entire property before he noticed light coming through the cracks of the gym door from the end of the hallway.

He didn’t know anyone else that came back from something physically taxing just to work out more.

When he entered the room, you didn’t even respond to his presence.

Instead, your gloves hit the punching bag in a flurry of movements, but that’s not what stuck out to him.

What he was entirely focused on was the tears streaking down your face, your teeth biting into your bottom lip hard enough that he was sure you must be bleeding.

He had planned to quietly approach you to get your attention, not wanting to add to the anxiety you were already feeling. But before he could take one step, you ended your movements with one big punch, accompanied by a noise somewhere between a sob and a shriek before whipping the gloves to the ground.

He couldn’t help the way he jumped, but as soon as he saw you muffle a scream into your hands, it was as though he was on autopilot.

You jumped when his hands made contact with your shoulders, but you didn’t resist when he pulled you into his arms, cradling your head as you shook like a leaf. Luckily, that meant you didn’t see the way his eyes teared up, too.

“Yoongi,” you choked out, tears wetting his shirt as you gripped his waist weakly.

“I know,” he whispered, staying silent as you cried, his hand rubbing gentle circles into your back. He wished he could do more, but the reality was that he couldn’t fix this for you.

He would just have to be there.

He didn’t know how long he stood there – long enough for him to feel the strain of holding up your weight. But he hardly noticed.

Eventually, you settled down enough to pull away slightly, his own pained gaze meeting yours. Your faces were close enough for him to fully take in the red of your eyes behind the glassiness of your tears.

“How?” you breathed, taking a moment to wipe at your eyes before looking back at him imploringly. “How do you do it?”

Your question caught him off guard, his mind wracking for something to say. You didn’t say exactly what you meant, but he was sure he could guess.

How can you keep killing? How do you live with the guilt?

“I have to.”

A cheap answer, even if it was true. There wasn’t a chance that he could escape this life, not now. Not when he was next in line for the family inheritance. Failure to work meant death – Bangtan had no shortage of means to take him out within days of running away.

With the way your face fell even as you nodded, you were very clearly not satisfied with his answer. But the reality was that he couldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear – that it went away, that you stopped caring, that it got better.

Because it didn’t - you just got better at blocking out your humanity. Was that considered ‘better’?

“I didn’t even do it,” you murmured, looking at your hands with a shaky breath. “I didn’t even pull the trigger and it hurts. It hurts so much. He looked so afraid...”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, taking your trembling hands into his own. “You’ll get better at blocking it out.”

You closed your eyes as you took a deep breath, your hands breaking free from his own to rub roughly at your face. You stayed like that long enough to concern him, but you turned around before he could reach out for you.

Your hands clenched into fists at your side, and at first, he thought you were about to cry again. Until he heard your voice.

“I’ll get better at blocking it out,” you said, voice almost robotic, entirely defeated. Devoid of emotion. But the feelings weren’t gone. You’d just buried them as you always did. “You're right.”

It should have scared him then, but he thought it was normal for you. Everyone dealt with pain differently, and you always tended to retreat into yourself when something greatly upset you. But you always came back to him the next day, smiling with a hop in your step as if it never happened.

Until you didn’t.

If he could go back and change that day, he would do it in a heartbeat. He’d spent endless nights replaying that scenario in his head, wondering what he could have said, what he could have done to make it better.

But he couldn’t change the past, couldn’t fix his mistakes. He could only be there for you now, would only offer what you would accept. And maybe one day you’d open up to him again.

The sound of a pained hiss as your fist hit the bag broke him free of his thoughts. He sighed deeply – you must have split your knuckles. In fact, it would be a wonder if you hadn’t dislocated a finger by now.

Straightening up, he stuck his hands in his pockets as though he had just casually walked into the room. Doing his best to dispel the sadness and regret, he called out to you.

“The gloves exist for a reason, you know.”

--

Series Masterlist

[someonewhowannadielol]

My name is JK (Alien!Jungkook! x Human!Reader)

PART TWO (SEQUEL TO ‘MY NAME IS 01001010 01001011′)

CLICK HERE FOR PART ONE

LINK TO MASTERLIST

Warning: Tooth-rotting fluff, Jungkook being a cutie, ok the real warning tags are Daddy kink, birthday sex, innocent reader being trained (???), lots of hicks and marking, cunt slapping, oral sex, uhh and jk being a competitive baby.

Genre: Fluff, Smut, if you squint and look closely, a little bit of humour.

Word Count: 5.6k

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

It had been a week since Jungkook had, ahem, dicked you down. And it has been the best week of your life so far – he showed you things you had never seen before, the most beautiful scenes that your eyes feasted upon. You both had gone to the Neon Valley, it was a vast blue-purple lake that lit up at night due to the minerals on the sand bed below, and the lilies residing there would dance every night.

They fluttered, swung and swayed – and simultaneously, Jungkook and you too, had danced – he took you in his arms and as you both slow danced to the humming of the diva-crackers, you couldn’t help but look at his gorgeous face, adorned with a smile that you’d never replace for anything in this universe. You could feel yourself falling for him, he twirled you with ease, and as you stumbled back into his arms, he lost his balance trying to save you from falling and splash! 

You both had ended up in the hot water, and despite the current situation, you both had burst into boisterous laughter which echoed across the plain field around. In the shining moonlight, Jungkook’s face was more lit up than the neon water they were in, his long hair sprawled across his forehead, as he pushed it back with his left hand, while holding your waist with his right arm.

Jungkook looked at you with such intensity, you didn’t really know how to react. both of you knew you wanted more than just cuddles on your couch that was too small for Jungkook, more than grocery shop romances, and trekking on the artificial mountain, and more than watching movies together,, more than cuddling under the tree at the main park, more than making fun of each other, you wanted each other so much more badly.

“Kiss me,” Jungkook whispered, his face getting dangerously close.

“I’m scared,” Of course you were, but you didn’t move away from me.

“Of what?” Jungkook’s eyebrows bunched up like they always do when he’s confused.

“Of falling. Of drowning,” you answered as you looked into his eyes, how could someone not fall for him?

“Well, I’m already drowning, so don’t be scared, silly,” Jungkook’s eyes formed from his usual doe eyes to half-moon crescents and, you were no longer afraid to fall.

Because he was there, he will always be there, right beside you.

Fuck. You couldn’t help but curse as you saw the red spot on your lavender sheets, they were my favorite sheets. You had really bad mood swings when you were on your period, and you were basically uncontrollable. You saw Jungkook’s figure on the left side of the bed, sleeping peacefully, his chest heaving up and down as he breathes consistently.

“Baby,” you whined, as you almost pushed him off the bed. There was no way that you were going to the pharmacy to get the goods, so he was your only choice possible.

He stumbled as he got up, sleep still swimming in his eyes, as his hands went up to rub them, trying to get rid of the slumber that had taken over him.

“Yes, princess?” he asked in his hoarse voice – which turned you on (especially a lot now, since your uterus was sad, lonely and angry). His eyes travelled to the blood on the sheets, and it would be an understatement to say that he had a heart attack.

He immediately engulfed you in his arms, “Are you hurt anywhere?” he said, unable to breathe, because fuck, if anything ever happened to you, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

The worry in his eyes was making you feel guilty; did he even know what was happening?

“Jungkook, chill,” you laughed a little before directing him to the side of the bed, telling him to sit.

“Humans – well, only females – have to go through a period of time where they bleed. From down there,” you explain, and watch him go into a slight state of shock.

The poor baby just woke up 2 minutes ago, so this was probably hard to digest.

“You… you’re bleeding… and you don’t go to the hospital?”

“Does it hurt?” he asks in the timidest voice ever, careful not to offend you. He remembers once he asked you about body hair and since it was your biggest insecurity (cue Middle School flashbacks when you were the only girl with a slight unibrow and mustache), you couldn’t help but lash out on him.

“Yeah, it hurts a lot in my tummy,” you said on your way to the bathroom, “I need my supplies though, could you get them for me?”

Half an hour later, Jungkook returned with five bags of chocolates, chips and snacks – enough to feed a small village. The entire week, he kept studying you (you swear you saw him looking at you and writing notes in his small notebook, like a detective. Sigh) and your mood swings and tendency to eat the weirdest food combinations – he couldn’t help but gag when he saw you dip a whole cucumber in peanut butter.

“Kookie, cuddle with me,” during the day you would make grabby hands at him, and get him to massage your back, but at night you’d be the complete opposite – wanting to sleep as far away from him as possible. He also noted that you were more sensitive to jokes during the week, so he kept them at a minimum, and his praises at a maximum.

“Baby, you know, you look so cute in my arms,” he cooed, as he kissed your cheek while cuddling. He didn’t miss the blush that crept on your cheeks either.

Also, despite all the bleeding, you were ready to jump his bones anytime. He hasn’t had this much sex with anyone in one week. Not that he minded it.

You were more than ecstatic when you saw your favourite-est food in the world stocked in the human section of the grocery store. Spicy Hot Korean Ramen! You still remember when eating this used to be a challenge, back on Earth.

As you stacked the basket with half the stock, Jungkook couldn’t help but look at the ingredients – what was it that made you love them so much?

He was well, more than shocked to see all the different kinds of spices that humans could barely tolerate, chili flakes, red pepper oil, habanero flavored seasoning… he couldn’t let you eat this!

“Baby, this is too spicy for you, maybe we should buy this,” he pointed to the boring chicken and cheese flavored ramen. No! You were going to buy the spicy one and that’s finalized. Of course, Jungkook looked at you, and couldn’t argue. He doesn’t think he could argue with you even if he tried to.

Back at the apartment, Jungkook bit his tongue, trying not to say “I told you so,” as you fought your tears while eating the horrendous noodles. You were positive you could never feel your numb tongue as you chugged down the glass of strawberry milk that Jungkook handed you.

As expected, Jungkook was prepared for the stomach ache you experienced throughout the night, and gave you medicine to recover.

Before sleeping, you heard him sigh before saying, “I told you so,”

Jungkook had noticed you a lot, ever since you moved in with him. You didn’t have much belongings anyways, because you were only allowed to carry 100 pounds of baggage on the space craft, so you only carried the essentials. (Yes, you brought an oven. Yes, it was 77 pounds heavy. No regrets.)

While getting accustomed to his cozy, but huge apartment, you couldn’t help but trip over furniture. At first, it was his coffee table in the kitchen, next to the refrigerator. Every time you would get something to eat, your pinky would hit the leg of the table, causing you to splutter nonsense and then cry about it.

His bed was also higher than you expected it to be, so every day, for an entire month, after waking up you would underestimate the height – and always, always fall down from it.

He was extremely shocked by your ability to ignore pain, and to continue suffering every day because of the same cause at the same place. It’s okay, because now he’d hold you as you stepped out of the bed, and moved the coffee table to the other side of the kitchen.

He also noticed that humans don’t always have a thought out sleep schedule, they did as they pleased. Last night, you were pretty much half asleep at 4 AM, as you tried to finish the last episode of the new Netflix series.

“You were so sleepy, yet you continued to watch it without even understanding what’s happening?” he asked as soon as you woke up, to which you shrugged.

Again, next week, you forced yourself to get up at 5AM in the morning, so you could go for a jog. After all, you were thinking of getting more fit, all you did was lay on the couch. But as you headed in the bathroom for a shower after the run, he couldn’t help but think that humans are weird.

The first time Jungkook heard you crunch your bones, he was so scared, you almost though he would faint. He threw his game controller on the floor, as he ran towards you – thinking you had dislocated a limb, or something.

“Kookie, I was j-just stretching,” you could barely make out the words, trying to hold in your laughter as he tried to make sure you were okay.

With a sigh, he ran his hand through his fluffy – much longer – hair now, as he headed back to continue his game, “Baby, you’re so weird,”

“But you still love me?” you asked as you joined him on the couch, laying your head on his lap.

“I will always love you. Even if your bones crack,”

Bonus: When you got up at night for a midnight snack, you were surprised to see that Kookie wasn’t in bed with you. You later found him in his office, studying about how a human’s joint makes loud popping or cracking sounds because of the gas gathered there. He was finally content to ensure that you were safe.

Of course, you smothered him in hugs and kisses, because he always looked out for you. Always.

After a few weeks of being in Corellia, you had started to well… miss Earth. It was natural to do so; you’d lived your entire life there.

“I miss the sunsets, they were so pretty,” you spoke as you showed him a polaroid of you and your sister with the sunset behind you both. You pointed towards the one sun you had, and the purple, pink and orange hues of the clouds.

In an attempt to make you happy, Jungkook gave you a chocolate, they always made you happier, and he’d read somewhere something about chemicals in it making humans happier. But he was surprised to see you dancing (terribly) to a pop song, that seemed a little annoying, but he could deal with it.

The song had seemed to lighten your mood a lot, as you danced along with him happily, and as you looked at him, you felt happier. His long, wavy hair bounced as he danced with you. His eyes were smiling, and it was so pure that you laughed along. You were happy finally.

Until two weeks later, when you came across a photo of you and your high school class, trekking up a mountain on your senior trip to the north. Jungkook saw you sad again, missing Earth and your loved ones. Some were dead, some didn’t make it here, and some lived on the hotter side of the planet.

He put up the same pop song again, and cuddled with you on the couch. For the first time ever, you really felt grateful to God for something. You felt grateful that you were alive, and that you had Jungkook along with you. He looked how he looked every day, wearing a casual white t-shirt and grey baggy sweatpants. You adjusted yourself on his lap, and looked at him, and looked into his brown eyes. As you traced his face with your finger, he laughed, “Princess, do you feel better?”

You smile at the word of endearment, kissing his cheek, “You make me realize the difference between a house and a home. A house is a place, made with bricks and concrete, and materialistic items. But a home, is so much different. A home is where you feel belonged, a home is a place where you get that feeling of love. You make me finally realize how Earth was more of a house for me, but here, in your arms, I finally feel like I’m at home,”

You never thought Jungkook would be an overprotective boyfriend. Or a way too over protective boyfriend. During sex, he would go crazy on your body – sometimes treat you like a china doll, fragile and easily breakable, and sometimes it would be rough and harsh, not that you minded it.

His apartment was well, more suited for Jubal people because the ceilings, the bed, and of course, the kitchen cabinets were all bigger in height and size in comparison to your apartments back on Earth. Often, without thinking Jungkook would put food on the top most cabinets, and you often either felt too embarrassed, or too stubborn to ask for his help.

Which resulted in you – dangerously – climbing on the shelf to grab your precious food. This was a routine now, so you didn’t exactly pay attention to your limbs – just letting your muscle memory do the work for you. Right foot on the counter, and then you push your left knee as well, until you’ve made yourself stable on the counter top. Then, you stand up, holding the cabinet handle. Today was the same, but Jungkook had recently scrubbed clean the shelves, so they were more slippery than usual, and there was a fleeting moment when you thought you were about to fall (which would, by the way, give you the nastiest head injury), and before you realized it, Jungkook had looped his arm around your waist.

You were still shocked – chips in hand – when he settled you on his lap, almost like a child.

“Princess, what were you thinking?” he says as he lets you turn around, so you straddling his lap.

“I just wanted some chips, Kook,” you say with an amused grin. He was obviously distressed, as he sighed while running his hands through his hair, like he would when he was frustrated.

“Baby, you have to tell me if you need something from there, okay? What if you had hurt yourself?” his voice seemed to get louder with every words, and just like that, your amused grin was replaced with a pout, as you lowered your head.

 You didn’t mean to make him angry like that.

Looking at you, he knew he couldn’t ever stay mad at you. It was physically impossible for him. He hugged you, and your head rested on his cheat, feeling his fast heartbeat morphed into a more, stable and steady beat, “I’m just always worried for you. Even if everything is wrong, it’s alright, you’re the only good thing in my life,”

It had been ages since you had gone to a festival, and there was going to be a carnival-like festival in Corellia soon. You didn’t think Jungkook would be that interested, so you were quite surprised to see him… so excited about it.

“It comes twice in a year, you have to come! I’ve heard they’ve made it more human themed this year, so you feel welcomed, but we’ll have our traditional rides too!” he spoke with a gleam in his eyes, as you both got ready.

Jungkook of course, made sure you were wearing at least five layers of clothes, two pairs of gloved, and three pairs of socks. It was night time, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of you looking like a walking marshmallow.

“Baby, you look so cute!” he exclaimed, holding your hand. The dead town looked really alive tonight, as the red, yellow, purple and other multicolored lights lit the place up, to make it feel even more alive. You were really shocked at the amount of people present, but that’s what made it even more fun.

The first thing had to be food, you got two plates of fries, because, well, is it even possible or human to share food? And that too, fries? No way. 

Jungkook had recently discovered ketchup, and now he would dip everything in it before eating. Ramen, dipped in ketchup. Chips, dipped in ketchup. Bread, dipped in ketchup. And now, you saw him cover every single chip in ketchup before eating it. While you thought this was disgusting, you were still amused by his new found love for it.

You both scared a giant cup of strawberry milkshake, that looked like it was out of a romcom, cotton candy pink color, with whipped cream on top. And naturally, the cherry. Your noses touched, as you both drank at the same time, and you couldn’t help but want to live in the moment forever.

You both had spent the night, either enjoying rides that were too scary, and hazardous to experience but at the same time too fun to miss out on, or competition with each other to the next level. You knew Jungkook had always been a competitive little shit, whether it was about who would cook better and faster, or about who loved the other one more, he was always in a competition. This was no exception either, as you both we immersed in a car racing game, where you were well, obviously losing.

You had never really been the best at arcade games, and this car games was extremely frustrating, because the goddamn seat was too big and your legs could barely reach the pedals on the bottom while holding onto the steering wheel simultaneously. He laughed as you struggled to multitask, and at one point you didn’t realise you were going the wrong way until you heard Jungkook laughing so hard, he was struggling to breath. Three tries later, Jungkook had had his fair share of victories as he put you in his lap, and told you to focus on the steering only. He’d handle the pedals part. Together, you guys had broken the fastest record of the day and of course, he had to congratulate you. And the congratulations came in a form of a heated kiss – which wasn’t liked by the Jubals waiting in line to play the game.

Later, you both had way too much fun beating others in basketball as you paired up, and beat a Jubal power couple. Then came the bumper cars. The same Jubal power couple had hit your and Jungkook’s car so hard that you almost flew across the set-up, if it wasn’t for the seatbelt, and Jungkook’s arm around the waist. It was safe to say that Kook took his revenge by hitting their car repeatedly, as he shoved them into a corner. You kissed your over protective boyfriend on the cheek, he was just so fricking cute.

You both ate more food than you could handle, and as you were walking, Jungkook bought a donut and tried to feed you.

“No! No, Kook, I swear!” you tried to get away from him, but he held your waist as he pushed the donut in your mouth, smearing it over your cheek in the process.

“Kook!” you exclaimed, as he kissed you, and licked away any leftover icing.

You couldn’t help but blush when he smirked, “Sweet.”

At the end of it all, you pushed Kook into a small photo booth that sat on the other end of the carnival.

“Please? Come on!” you tried to show him your puppy eyes, and turned your lips into a pout.

“But baby, I don’t look good in photos!” he whined as you inserted the money to take a four portrait photo.

“Please? Just this once? For me?” you pouted again, and pushed him in with you, and you tried to drag his arms.

“You can’t give me the puppy dog face! You know I can’t say no to that!” he whined, adjusting you in his lap.

“Just pose, Kookie,” you said as you closed the red curtain on the side. In the first one, your arms were around his neck as you laughed and looked in the camera, and he looked at you, pouting. The second one, you both looked at each other and smiled, his hands in your hair. The third had been him grabbing your face, squishing you cheeks and bringing you closer (but because of the movement – it was also blurred, at which you were disappointed, but Kook assured you it looked good), and lastly, in the fourth one, you were kissing passionately, while Jungkook smiled in the kiss.

You both climb the small hill, where people are buying and lighting their lanterns in an orderly manner. You both buy one, and you end up writing “JK X Y/N” on it with red paint, and before Jungkook lights it, he adds a red heart, and “4EVER,” underneath which looks so cheesy, that it makes you laugh.

He looks at you, and kisses your forehead. Around 10:30, everyone lets go of their lanterns, and you both also let go of yours, letting it fly in the sky, as Jungkook cups your cheeks and pushes your hair back, before kissing you, sweet and slow.

The night had come to an end as all the Jubals were leaving too. You didn’t know exactly what time it was, but it was definitely i-can’t-walk-o’ clock, as Jungkook gave you a piggy back ride without any questions when he saw you stumbled into others. In one hand you held the teddy bear he had won from the water gun thingy, and in the other you held a cotton candy like sweet – but it wasn’t exactly cotton candy. It was blue and purple, and shined because of the crystallized sugar on it.

The last thing you remember was resting your face where his shoulder and neck met and mumbling, “This was the best day of my life,”

If someone had told you that you’d have a cook off with an alien in two months’ time, you would’ve laughed in their face. But. Here you were. Trying to cook the best alfredo pasta he would ever taste in his life.

You tried to glance on his cooking station multiple times, only to be pushed back, “Baby! It’s supposed to be a surprise!”

Jungkook really seemed to be absorbed in the cooking process, and you were starting to feel deprived of his love and adoration that he would usually shower at you when he was not working in his office.

30 minutes later, he brought you his favourite dish, the one that his mother used to cook for him when he was younger. It was orange red-ish coloured deep fried small cutlets, that smelled… amazing. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it tasted like, it was salty, but in a different way. And so, so, yummy. You were a little insecure when Jungkook took a bite of your pasta, and showed no emotion.

Oh no, you had tasted it and it felt pretty normal, juts how you’d make it on Earth. Was he allergic to something in it?

“Baby, what did you put in this?” he asked, but he didn’t seem to stop eating it. He didn’t speak anything until, well, he finished the dish.

“Can you make that for me every day?”

It had been over six months, since you and Jungkook had been seeing each other. Naturally, as a couple you both did fight – mostly over stupid stuff, like which restaurant to go to, or disagreements on what to buy etc. But you both would always sort it out, no matter what it was, he was always by your side.

It was his birthday, and Jubals never really celebrated their birthday – “Why would you celebrate this? I’m just one more year near death,” he said as you told him about ‘Earth Traditions’.

Albeit to whatever he said, you made yourself busy when he went out to meet the gang. You’d met them a couple of times before, being much closer to Taehyung because he never really questioned whatever you did, and just went along with it. You had enjoyed Jimin and Jin’s company as well (mostly because they cooked for you, not gonna lie).

As you hung up the balloons that said, “Happy Birthday!” individually, you had started to well, decorate yourself as well.

You knew how Jungkook always looked at you as if you were the most pure creature in this universe, his innocent little baby, so you decided to dress the part. Dressed in white panties, with a small bow on them, you adjusted your pink tinted, bra that came along with it. It left little to the imagination, as it was see-through, but there were small bows on each nipple, making you look like a present. You’d never really been the one to dress up in stockings as well, but here you were, tweaking your garter, as the pink shaded white see-through material latched on your legs as a second skin. Now, you waited patiently.

He finally came, around half past seven, and looked better than ever. You’d worn your silk robe that you would usually wear around, so he wouldn’t suspect anything. He looked so happy, his eyes crunched up into its usual crescent shape as he laughed while blowing the candles and eating your home-made cake. He had always loved your baking, so when you made his favourite Oreo cake, he was really, really happy. You’d made him a teddy bear – you were bad at sewing, but hey! A for effort.

“Kook, there’s a present in your bedroom too,” you said as you took his left hand and guided him in the bedroom. You had given him several gifts already, so why were you giving him another one?

“Baby, you didn’t have t-“ he stopped as soon as you dropped your robe in front of him, letting him take in the sight of you, clad in your lingerie that he had only imagined in his wildest fantasies.

The light hearted aura around him seemed to vanish, as a darker shade took over his eyes. Without speaking anything, he carried you bridal style, to the bed and laid you down softly on it.

“Gonna let me taint you, angel?” he asked, and at the sight of him, you couldn’t help but moan and nod.

“Use your words, baby,” he said as he let his fingers roam on your figure, and lit a fire in your core, making you overwhelmed.

“Yes, Daddy, please make love to me,” you whine, but he tsks on your choice of words.

“Angel, my princess,” he says as he leaves a trail of wet kisses from your neck to you collarbone, sucking on it, “I’m not going to love to you today, I’m going to fuck you, baby”

You gasp as he circles around the bow on your nipple, before ripping the thin material completely, letting the cool air hit your vulnerable skin.

As Jungkook just keeps looking at you, his long hair shadowing in front of his eyes, you can’t help but feel needy, “Daddy, please, touch me,” you whine, trying to get ahold of his hand.

He gently brings his mouth down, sucking on the little tip of your nipple, as his tongue works magic around it, and you’re already starting to get wet.

“It’s u-unfair that you’re all d-dressed up,” you moan, as you try to take off his white t-shirt. He chuckles as he takes off his shirt, letting you look at his god-like body. You were speechless when you first saw him, and you still are every time you both have sex.

His lean body, is just perfect in every way, and the way the moonlight hits his face, giving his face the shadows that come along with the highlights, you were dumbstruck at how breathtaking he was.

While Jungkook loved to mark you, mark your body, make you his, today was harsher, much more aggressive as he bit your chest, making you cry out in pleasure. He painted your body in hues of purple and bright pink, using his tongue to make each bruise feel better. As soon as he reached the hem of your underwear, he stopped, and that resulting in a whine from you.

“It’s my birthday, and you said I deserve anything on this day. So, princess,” he said, unbuckling his belt, and you swallow hard before he lets his cock free, ”let me fuck those beautiful tits,”

He pushes himself into your mouth without any warning, letting you groan and whimper as you produce enough saliva to make him sopping wet, “Good baby,” he whispers as he lets his dick between your tits.

You smiled, as you held your breasts together, and he slides his hardening member between them, “fuck baby, you’re so soft, so pretty for Daddy,” he murmurs obscene praises as you whimper in pleasure from the friction between your breasts.

He places his cock between them, and first experiments with his movements, and as time passes, he becomes faster, and messier. You both didn’t mind the mess, as his pre-cum lands on your chest, collarbone and nipples, and you can only whine in pleasure while letting him use your body.

His movements go from steady and fast to uncoordinated and stuttering, as he pulls out and pants, letting him catch his breath.

“Fuck, baby, they felt like heaven, but there’s something else, way better,” he grins as pulls himself down on your body, and looks as you underwear, directly. It makes you whimper, when you feel his hot breath through the thin material. He laps his tongue on it, and it feels so good, but not good enough, and you wish he would just take it off.

“Daddy, please, take it off,” you whine and he pulls your legs further apart and digs his face between them.

He smirks and looks at you, already fucked out as a blush stays on your cheeks. Angelic.

“Keep the stockings on, okay, sweetheart?” he says as his finger traced down your leg, as you shiver under his touch.

He comes up to you and cups your face, pressing a kiss against your cheek – and it felt so chaste in comparison to what you both had just done.

And before you could realize, he slips his fingers under the hem of your panties, and shreds them into pieces.

“What do you want from Daddy?” he stops in front of your clit, spreading your lips, waiting for your answer. He knew you were shy, too shy to speak vulgar words, but you were just so needy right now.

“Daddy, I need your tongue,” you speak, and let his tongue sit flat on your bud, it gave enough stimulation, but at the same time not enough, and you just needed more. You couldn’t help but buckle your hips into his face, and that resulted in his getting up and looking at you, making eye contact.

“You’re being ungrateful now, huh?” he says as he smacks the bud hard, where seconds ago he let his tongue rest. It’s painful, but at the same time, it just feels so, so good. He smacks it two more times before letting his teeth sink in your inner thigh, as you let lewd noises escape your mouth, as he further marks your thighs, and you knew, for sure that they would last a long time.

After a lifetime of teasing, he lets his tongue slurp the cum that escaped your pussy, as he went to town on it, eating you out as if he’s been starving for years. You let your moans escape as he slips his tongue inside you, and lets his nose rub against your clit. You were so close, just about to fall off the edge as he pulls himself away, and you whimper, grabbing the sheets as if your life depended on them.

“Your cunt is always, always so pretty and tasty for Daddy,” he smacks between your thighs again, making you gasp, “always ready for Daddy,”

His ruffled, brown hair shines in the dark of the room, the moonlight being the only source of light, illuminating his face.

He lets his dick enter you, gently, until you reach your limit and instead of waiting like he always does, he rams back into you again, letting you adjust with his steady movements, as you grab his hand and hold it. He always holds your hand when he’s being rough, to let you know that he can stop anytime. (but u is a hoe)

He slides out until only his tip is inside you, and lets himself into you all at once, fast and reckless. Wild. It isn’t long before your walls clench around him, “Daddy, I-I’m so close,” you say as your rub you clit, slowly with a continual movement.

You orgasm starts first, hot and sticky liquid, dripping down you thigh, staining your perfect stockings, and soon Jungkook follows, as his head buries in your neck, and he groans before letting himself loose.

“Happy Birthday, Kookie,” you whisper before letting him take you to the tub, where you both well, fuck again.

LINK TO MASTERLIST 

A/N: It’s always so fun to write alien!jk, and I hoped you guys liked it. Also, a huge thank you to @bisoo-ausucre for supporting me so much!

Could you please help me decide what to write first? Frat boy!jk OR titanic!au with Jimin as Jack? 

As always, requests are open, and so is my inbox. See you next time!