#it feels a little selfish. very selfish. nothing even happened to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

0097linersb · 5 months ago

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𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 (m)

Pairings: Wooyoung x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 15k ~

Warnings: It´s a smut so +18 MDNI pls

Follow me on twitter: wooyosgfreal <3

Part 2

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As someone who has been single for the past 2 years, you often found yourself missing certain things and feelings. It´s not even the dating in itself that you craved, you were in fact, very content with being alone, and after all your inner healing and growth, you didn´t even think you were ready for a relationship at this point in your life. But as you and Wooyoung were on your couch lazily spending the afternoon, you found your body and mind screaming for comfort at the sight of the rainy day outside.

Your friend had his head on your lap as he played some online shooting game on his phone, the movie you intended on watching now only serving as background noise as you drifted off, hands absent-mindedly playing with the strands of his hair that fell on top of your thighs.

Hand-holding.

That´s something you really missed. The feeling of interlacing fingers with someone as warmness spread through your body. When you were dating, you weren´t even that into holding hands, uncomfortable with not being able to move freely or with the way your palm seemed to always feel clammy – But now? You would kill for a chance to walk around a park linked with someone.

You also really missed being so familiar with someone that you just felt at ease, having a person there to do nothing or everything with, being able to talk or gossip about anything. You remember spamming Mingyu´s chat with every little thing that happened during your day and him just being genuinely happy to hear about it, replying to every single message in order. As your best friend, Wooyoung was someone you talked to a lot, but you still couldn´t text him about how you already drank 6 glasses of water or how you were annoyed because your stapler kept getting stuck – Those are the annoying little things you only get to share with a significant other that has the obligation to put up with you.

And showering together. You almost felt dramatic tears fill your eyes at the thought of it; sharing the hot stream of water with someone, have them rub soap down your back or massage shampoo onto your scalp, or just simply holding someone in the dark under the running water as steam filled the room.

Oh, and free massages. You definitely missed those, being able to ask for a massage at whatever given moment with the certainness that you would receive one. Mingyu´s love language had always been acts of service, meaning you wouldn´t spend a single day without his hands squeezing your shoulders or rubbing down your back.

Maybe you should call Mingyu. Something along the lines of “hey, I know we broke up a few years ago but can you come like, hold me for a minute? Cuddle until we fall asleep?”

You were so touch deprived you could cry.

There was also the intimate part of a relationship; You had tried casual sex, one-night stands, friends with benefits, even a Tinder hook up once – It just wasn´t for you. It´s not even the sex on itself that you longed for, you could spend another few years without it if it came down to it. But you did miss what came with being intimate with someone who truly cared about you. When it comes to casual flings, people are normally selfish (yourself included), doing the bare minimum to get the other person off but truly aiming for their own pleasure; it was nice being with someone who´s main priority was making you feel good without the need of having the “favor returned”.

What you really did miss though, was a bit cruder: You missed the feeling of someone´s dick in your mouth, the groans and whines that came with it, hands tangled in your hair, your tongue tracing hot veins as someone praised you. You missed having someone´s fingers inside of you, your walls tight around them as they pumped in and out of you with ease. You also really fucking missed someone eating you out.

You subconsciously pulled a bit on Wooyoung´s hair out of frustration but he didn´t seem to notice, eyes fixated on his game. You gently pat his head where you had tugged on the strands and went back to playing with his hair, letting your mind take you away once again.

Again, it´s not like your relationship with Mingyu ended badly, surely, he wouldn´t mind if you called him up to go down memory lane for a night-

You had never noticed how plump Wooyoung´s lips were.

He had a habit of pouting when he was focused, or biting on his lips when he was extra concentrated – which he was doing just now as he tried to shoot at someone who was trying to kill him. When he finally managed to take out the other player and escape, he let his bottom lip go, now all red and glistening as he cursed out loud. They just looked so soft and plushy, and the mole he had on his bottom lip –

You suddenly realized you were kind of obsessed with Wooyoung´s nose shape. You know what people say about big noses… Also, how good would it feel bumping against -

“You´re being way too nice. What´s going on?” Wooyoung´s voice suddenly interrupted your thoughts, causing you to jump in shock and realization that you were just thinking about your friend eating you out.

“I am nice, just not to you,” You correct, meeting his eyes which were looking up as you noticed you were still running your fingers through his hair.

“I have very strong opinions about that, but either way, it´s what I meant. Why are you being nice to me?”

“Am I?”

“I remember very clearly the last time I asked you to cuddle me, almost got down on my knees begging and you just looked at me like I had rolled around in the trash.”

“You were quiet today, behaving like a normal person-”

“Go on, call me a good boy. I know you want to,” He rolls his eyes.

You laugh out loud at that; he did know you well.

“Nah, you´ve ruined it the moment you opened your mouth.”

“Guess I´m a bit further from perfect than I thought, getting there though. How was the movie anyways?”

“Oh, did it end already?” You asked, finally looking at the TV and realizing the credits must have been rolling for a while. “Wasn´t paying attention.”

“What were you even doing?” He furrowed his eyebrows at you, a second away from calling you stupid.

“Thinking.”

“About?”

“Calling Mingyu,” You half-lied.

At that, he managed to furrow his eyebrows even more, the biggest judgmental face he had ever sported looking up at you, “Why? Are you suddenly into him again?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“I don´t know, just-”

“Oh my god,” His eyes widened, and he covered his mouth in shock. “It´s a booty call.”

“It´s that what people call it these days?” You ask, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole ordeal.

“Oh my god, so it is.”

“I guess?”

“Y/N, it´s been like 2 years. I know you´re hot and he´s a man but I think that conversation would be kind of weird. Were you planning on texting him a wanna come smash?” He questioned you as he sat up. “Do you even have his number?”

“No, I - I don´t know. I- Let´s change the subject.”

“Let´s absolutely not.”

“You´re being annoying.”

“Aren´t I always?”

“Yes, defin-”

“If you´re horny, why don´t you text that last guy you were going out with? He was hot too.”

“Ew, don´t use the word horny.”

“Would you prefer I call you needy?”

Maybe you would, yeah, very much.

“No, ew. Just stop talking all-together.”

“So, why don´t you text him?”

“You know I can´t really enjoy it much when I´m not like, close to the person.”

“So you thought of your ex,” he deadpanned.

“Yeah.”

“Has literally not even one of the guys you hooked up with gotten you off?”

“I mean, some of them did. But I don´t want to just get off, I-I- I don´t even know what I want, can we please chan-”

“You want to be treated like the little pillow princess you are, got it.”

Did he have to say it like that? Suddenly you felt the pulse between your legs raising its intensity. Oh god no, you were absolutely not getting turned on by Wooyoung´s crude choice of words.

Anyone but Wooyoung!

“Who says I´m a pillow princess? Am not!”

“Ah, please. You scream I´ll bring nothing to the table besides looking pretty.”

“Is that how I come off as?” You gasped at that, feeling deeply offended. “You´re full of shit.”

“Why are you even getting mad? There´s nothing wrong with that, I´m sure you´re really good at looking pretty under a guy.”

“Please stop picturing someone else fucking me?”

“Who says I´m picturing someone else?” He winked at you teasingly.

You literally, in your over 20 years of life on this earth, have never - not even once - thought you would actually choke over someone´s words. This was Wooyoung, you were used to his ways, c´mon!

“Yeah, let´s not do that.”

“Awn, pretty princess got flustered,” He cooed at you.

You knew he was just teasing you; you knew there was no real sexual intent behind his words because that was Wooyoung, he flirted and teased as naturally as he breathed - but they still got your thighs tensing and you hating yourself for it. Couldn´t you just take a joke for what it was?

“Although now that I´m thinking about it, I wouldn´t be surprised if you turned out to be a brat in bed. You´re already the biggest one normally.”

“Look who´s calling me a brat,” You rolled your eyes once again. It didn´t matter if he was right or wrong, Wooyoung had no right calling anyone that when he was the way he was.

At that, he presented you with the most attractive smile you think would ever exist in the world, a mixture between cunning, excitement and condescending, “You think I´m bratty?”

“Oh, I´m sure of it.”

“Maybe I´m just good at matching energies, you know?” He winked, teasing you further.

“Fuck off. I know San forced you on your knees more often than I´d like to imagine.”

“Because I allowed him to.”

You snorted, “Yeah. Sure thing, honey. Now let´s move along, please.”

Except that, your mind decided to in fact, consider his words. Wooyoung liked teasing and annoying people for his own entertainment, he whined at you every time he didn´t get things his way and he was always playfully flirting with everyone - and you meant literally everyone. Because of that, you had always just kind of assumed (but never spared it many thoughts, thank God) that your best friend was just someone who like to be dominated when in relationships, or sexual encounters for the matter.

But honestly, you could kind of see it differently after his comments. It was true he always had everyone wrapped around his fingers and somehow, he always managed to get things his way - Wasn´t that also some form of control? The lines were kind of blurred when it came to Jung Wooyoung, but that was kind of even more attractive to you.

“Oh my god, you´re thinking about it,” Wooyoung teased.

“You´re the one who started it!”

“You don´t have to stress your pretty little head over it,” He smiled, his finger finding it´s place under your chin to tip your face in his direction playfully. “I can show you.”

Oh, absolutely not.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a millisecond at his words, your guard crumbling surprisingly fast as you practically whimpered, “I know you´re joking but can we please not?”

“Why?”

Couldn´t he stop giving you that annoying freaking smile?

“Because I am kind of horny and I really don´t want to go there,” You practically growled.

Now he was the one who broke character, not expecting you to be actually affected by his jokes, before the teasing smile was back on his face in a heartbeat - but you saw it.

“Did I make you horny?” He teased.

“Of course not, I was already horny before. I´m just in a weird mood.”

It wasn´t necessarily a lie. If you weren´t already feeling some type of way since earlier, you would have never - and you really mean that - caught yourself thinking about Wooyoung´s stupid plump lips or if he could actually fuck you.

“So, you were thinking about getting dicked down while I was here innocently lying down on your lap? You´re dirty,” He snickered.

“It wasn´t weird until you made it weird,” You groaned in frustration. This is really not how you imagined your afternoon would go down.

“Want me to help you out?”

“Got any hot friends who are also not my friends?”

“I do,” He nodded with his head. “But I´m also right here.”

Your eyes almost flew out of your head. You always judged yourself as the only person immune to Wooyoung's weirdness, deeming that nothing the man did or say would ever surprise you since you basically were the same - but you now guessed the tests became harder as the years passed.

“I can´t really tell if you´re joking-“

“I am absolutely not.”

“Yeah, not going to happen.”

“Why?”

“Because!”

“I know you can use your big girl words.”

“Because as much as it pains me to admit it, we´re best friends. I guess?”

“Now you´re the one who´s making it weird. You´re hot, I´m hot. You´re horny, now I´m horny. What´s wrong with helping each other out?”

“What´s wrong is that I never really saw you like that!” You whined.

“But you´re seeing now.”

“Yeah, and I don´t like it!”

“Tell me,” He raised an eyebrow at you, a devilish glint on his eyes matching his smile once again.

“What?”

“What you imagined me doing to you.”

“Oh my god. Nothing!”

“Oh c´mon, I won´t think you´re in love with me or anything. I know we´re friends and I´m a man, if there is one thing I can understand is simple plain old horniness.”

“How is this so easy for you?”

“Oh, I already imagined fucking you many times. In many different ways, too,” Wooyoung stated so casually, like he was talking about his shopping list for when he went to the supermarket later. “You know that one time at Seonghwa´s pool when you were wearing that little orange bikini? I must have made up at least 4 different scenarios, just that day.”

“I feel kind of violated?”

You also felt the way something throbbed in between your legs at his words but he didn´t need to know that.

“As I said: I´m a man, Y/N. I love you and would never do anything to make you uncomfortable or fuck up our friendship, but there´s nothing wrong with fantasizing. It´s not like I actively decide to do it either, it just happens, I don´t know.”

“Do you just casually think about fucking all your friends?”

“No, only the hot ones. And it´s not something I keep thinking about all the time, I´m not a creep. Just once every blue moon hormone takes over or something. Also, you´re a fool if you think any of your other friends who are into women have never, not even once, thought about fucking you.”

“Yeah, I´d rather be a fool,” You rolled your eyes. “Also, San hasn´t!”

“San would quit his dream job in a heartbeat if I called him over for a threesome right now.”

“Yunho then! He would never -”

Wooyoung laughed at that, “Honey, I have something to tell you-“

“Please don´t.”

“Anyways, you´re not lacking options to help you out. All I´m saying is that I´m here and I´d be more than glad to be the one,” He had the audacity of winking at you. “Since you were already thinking about it.”

“I´m begging you to please drop it.”

“Only if you tell me what you were thinking about.”

“Oh my god! You know what? Let´s play your stupid fucking game, Jung Wooyoung. I´ll tell you if you tell me first.”

“So, you do know how to have fun,” Wooyoung gave you a big smile, his eyes disappearing in happiness as if you had just told him you got him a new car. “What do you want to know?”

“About the day at Seonghwa´s pool.”

“Fun. I will use your own words then: I was in a weird mood that day and then you just took your clothes off and looked so good in that bikini. You were sunbathing and at some point in the afternoon you went inside Hwa´s house to get something from the kitchen and my brain just kept flashing images in my head: what if I followed you into the empty house, pushed you against the nearest wall and fucked you, watching as you tried to keep quiet so the others wouldn´t hear from right outside? Your cheek red from rubbing against the wall, your -”

“That´s scenario number one.”

“You want all of them? Kinky.”

“I can just go-“

“Calm down, princess. See? I knew you were a brat.”

“Wooyo-“

“Later when I was sitting down on the sunbathing chair with you while you were helping me out with the sunscreen, I noticed how my hand was so close I could pull the bottom of your bikini to the side and just slip my fingers in, right there in the open, no one would even notice. I wondered if you were already going to be wet and how you would sound trying to keep your noises inside with my knuckles deep into you. I couldn´t imagine a better sight than you all pretty clenching around my fingers or how you would look trying to casually spread your legs for me without anyone suspecting. I even went as far as imagining us getting caught, can you picture Mingi noticing what a little slut you are and trying to watch without getting caught himself? Poor boy wouldn´t know what to do with himself, would just loose his mind at how hot you´d look. I wondered if you´d like that he was watching –“

“That´s scenario number two,” You interrupted before the skin where you dug your nails into could start bleeding from your efforts to ground yourself and not squirm like an animal in heat at Wooyoung´s words.

He was good, you had to give him that.

Wooyoung laughed at you and you wondered if he had any clue about what he was doing to you. Then you mentally slapped yourself because of course he did, he had eyes.

“When everyone went inside to make some drinks and start on dinner, you sat there on the edge of the pool and started kicking water at me. Remember that? I happened to notice the edge was just the perfect height for me to eat you out from the pool, and you even had your back to the door. We were all alone out there and even if someone came out, I would be hidden from their view in between your legs. I could picture my hands holding your thighs open and your back arching-”

“Yeah, ok. That´s enough. I´m going to go, humm, shower or something and you can just like leave-”

“Can I join?” He joked as you stood up.

“No.”

“Can I at least stay outside listening?”

“What? I´m not going to mastu- Wooyoung, I´m just taking a cold shower.”

“OK, go cool yourself off, princess. I´ll wait for you here,” He informed, unlocking his phone once again and showing you his screen where his game was loading.

“Yeah, ok. Suit yourself.”

“You really should let me listen as payback for getting me horny,” He screamed once you were already down the hallway.

“You got yourself horny,” You screamed back before shutting the bathroom door behind yourself.

You silently screamed against your hands as you let your body slide down the door.

What the hell just happened? How many lines did you just cross?

Why was Wooyoung suddenly so hot?

And so, a cold shower you took and thankfully, after you left the bathroom, no one talked about the subject for the rest of the night and just pretended that nothing had happened.

Except that now you were miserable and your mind echoed Wooyoung´s words every time you looked or thought about him. It was not optimal to be crossing your legs in the middle of class at university because you accidentally caught yourself staring at your friend´s veiny arms for half of the lecture.

★

“You´re still horny,” Wooyoung stated a few days later when you were literally getting ice cream after class.

“And I´m actually mortified that you noticed.”

“You´re being stubborn.”

“We´re not fucking, Wooyoung.”

“Dude, at this point I am genuinely feeling bad for you. We can ask Mingi or whoever, just please get some dick.”

“You´re being kind of sexist-”

“Y/N, you look constipated. I am worried for your sanity.”

“Just shut up before I stop talking to you.”

“I can use a blindfold or something if you´re worried about me seeing you naked-”

“You´d like that, wouldn´t you? Submissive bitch.”

“Don´t degrade me unless you mean it,” He winked at you.

“You are actually insufferable.”

“I´m just trying to help.”

“You can´t because you don´t understand that this isn´t just about getting some dick!”

“So what is this about? You tense every time my hands get near you -”

“Wooyoung, this is an ice cream parlor. There are kids around, just shut the fuck up.”

“So let´s go to my place.”

“I´m not getting inside any closed spaces with you unless there are more people around.”

“Kinky.”

“Oh my god, you know what I mean.”

“I know, just let me tease you. Ok, but seriously now, I think that in order for me to do my duties as a best friend, I need to understand what´s going on.”

“Since when do you care about your best friend duties? You once left me behind alone at a party to get fucked by Yeonjun or whatever you two-”

“Allegedly.”

“No, Wooyoung. Not allegedly, it was literally me that you dragged to a corner to inform you´d be going upstairs with Yeonjun-”

“No one knows what happened in that room.”

“Yeah, thank god.”

“Ok, whatever. Let me help you, tell me what´s going on inside that little messed up brain of yours.”

“Nop. I really would rather lock myself inside the industrial freezer in the back.”

“Yeah? Then I´m texting Mingi to go to your place and give you the fuck of your life tonight-”

“Wooyoung!”

“Y/N!”

“Just drop it.”

“No! Do you actually miss Mingyu? Or dating? Do you want a boyfriend? Is that it?”

“No,” You groaned, hitting your forehead against the table.

“So?”

“Just- I need alcohol if we´re going to talk about this.”

“Ok, let´s go to-”

“Wooyoung, it´s 2 in the afternoon.”

And so, he let it go for the moment, but the next time he saw a single drop of alcohol near you, he sat down next to you and crossed his hands like he meant business, a pointed look on his face.

★

“So?”

“This is literally my first shot.”

“Then take it.”

“Fine,” You begrudgingly complied, and you hadn´t even placed your glass back down before Wooyoung was already pouring you more. Figuring you weren´t going to escape this conversation, you downed your second shot and sighed in defeat.

“Now tell me why you aren´t getting your back blown out at this very moment.”

“It´s really weird talking about sex with you.”

“We talk about sex all the time.”

“Yeah, about other people, not about me, or about you suddenly being willing to fuck me- “

“Not suddenly.”

“Yeah, whatever. Pour me some more.”

“That´s what I like to hear,” He smirked at you, eyes glinting as he filled your glass up.

“Y/N looks miserable,” Mingi suddenly stated, dropping his body next to you on the couch coming from seemingly nowhere.

“Doesn´t she?” Wooyoung agreed, giving you a pointed look as you punched Mingi for the out-of-pocket comment.

“Where did you even come from?” You asked the tall man next to you, excited for a change of topic.

“The kitchen,” He absentmindedly answered you, hand busy filling up the glasses in front of you before handing you one. “Take a shot with me.”

And so you did, hissing at the burning sensation and taking deep breaths to not gag at the taste of tequila.

“OK, why does it look like your house burned down?” The man turned his attention back to you after smashing the empty glass on the little center table in front of you.

Damn it, Mingi.

You didn´t even have the time to begin forming any kind of excuses before Wooyoung answered for you in a heartbeat, “Little Y/N over here is horny.”

“Jung Wooyoung!” You gasped at his choice of words, thorn between hiding behind your hands, punching the man and apologizing to Mingi.

Mingi, in turn, was frozen in shock mid pouring himself another shot. And you meant that the man wasn´t even blinking, mouth open and hands stuck in the air holding the glass bottle which you took from him afraid he would break it.

“See what you´ve done?” You sighed to Wooyoung, elbowing his ribs as you tried waving your hand in front of Mingi´s face for a reaction.

“Wait, what?” Said man came back to life, his voice way higher than what you´re used to.

“You heard it, man. She hasn´t been fucked right in ages-”

“Wooyoung, you know what you said about wanting to keep up with your best friend´s duties?” You asked between gritted teeth, about ready to jump the man and rip all of his hair out. “This is really not it.”

“But you´re hot!” Mingi seemed confused.

“I told her that!” Wooyoung ignored you. “I even told her you´d volunteer to help her out-”

“I so would-”

“Shut the fuck up, you two! Wooyoung, I´m about a second away from blocking you on my phone and never seeing you again,” You were also as close to ripping your own hair out. “Yes I´m horny, the whole world doesn´t need to hear about it.”

Mingi noticed the crazy look behind your eyes and rubbed your back in comfort, he too knew what Wooyoung could do to people when he decided to be annoying.

“It´s ok, love. We´ve all been there,” Mingi assured you and his words did soothe you a bit.

“It´s just – You guys don´t get it. It´s not about just sex. I know I could literally fuck anyone at this party if I wanted to, I´m not dense. I guess I just miss dating but I don´t really want to date anyone at the moment?”

“So like a friends with benefits thing?” Wooyoung pressed.

“No, that´s just fucking with a fancy title. I mean like, I miss being touched and hugged and pampered and – I don´t know.”

“Every time I try to hug you, you freeze and glare at me!” Mingi pouted.

“I´m just not a touchy person!”

“I know! That´s why I´m not understanding what you want.”

“Just forget it-”

“I get it,” Wooyoung interrupted.

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“You want a boyfriend without the obligations and feelings involved with a relationship. I was right, you´re needy.”

“Oh,” Apparently it made sense to Mingi too.

“Ok, and with that, I excuse myself,” You say, already standing up to go find someone else to hang out with because you were definitely not ready for the rest of that conversation.

★

“What are you doing here?” You asked in annoyance after opening the door to your place to a very content looking Wooyoung.

"I came to be your boyfriend-not-boyfriend,” He smiled proudly.

"We're not fucking, Wooyoung,” You managed to sigh and roll your eyes at the same time. "Which is exactly what I told you the other 50 times you suggested it."

"Who said anything about fucking? I'm just here to force the touch-deprivation out of you. Now move, I brought snacks," He said as if he hadn't already pushed you out of the way about midway through his sentence.

You sighed in defeat, accepting your peaceful quiet night was ruined - You hadn't even locked the door yet and Wooyoung was already sprawled on your couch organizing the snacks on your coffee table, making way more noise than necessary.

"At least you brought my favorite," You noticed, arms crossed as you stood up next to the couch.

"These are all your favorites," His eyes were even shining with the amount of pride he had for himself.

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"You called Seonghwa, didn't you?"

"Only about the chips."

"Knew it."

"It's not my fault you literally change your opinions every day."

"Welcome to girlhood."

"Now sit down and I'll put something on Netflix."

"Wooyoung, why-"

"Y/N, listen," It was his turn to sigh. "You helped me through a lot when everything happened with my grandpa and you were always there for me when shit went down, just let me help you this once however I can."

"Ok, got it. Enough with the sentimental talk," You quickly obeyed. You didn't like serious Wooyoung.

"Now, are we feeling Criminal Minds?" He asked once you were sitting next to him, remote in hand.

"Sounds great."

“Perfect,” Wooyoung agreed as he put on the show, quickly standing up to turn off the lights before sitting back down and opening his arms. “Come here.”

“Uh, I would rather not.”

“I don´t care, we´re doing this.”

“I don´t think forcing me to cuddle you will help much-”

“Do you want me to really force you? Because I can,” He raised his eyebrow at you, arms still hanging in the air.

“I´m pretty sure I´m stronger than you-”

“Oh my god, just shut up,” He groaned and rolled his eyes at the same time, bending his body forward so he could grab onto your waist and pull you against his chest.

Ok, yeah. He was definitely stronger than you.

“Can you not make it so difficult?” He asked once he noticed how stiff you were in between his legs. “Stretch your legs, relax.”

You decided against reminding him that he was in fact forcing you to do this and obeyed, he was just trying to help after all and maybe he did have a point: Some human touch might help calm your mind down. Also, the quicker you played along, the sooner it would be over. So, stretching your legs across the couch you did, letting your body relax against Wooyoung´s, who contently wrapped his arms around you as you both turned your attention towards the Tv.

Well, that lasted for about 10 minutes before you started feeling the heat of your friend´s skin radiating and everything started making sense: Being held by someone you loved really was comforting. Huh, who would have guessed?

You generally hated being touched by people but right now you kind of felt like a cat, wanting to rub your head on Wooyoung´s shirt and snuggle into his warmth.

“Can I play with your hair or will you bite my hand of?”

“You can try,” You answered, not wanting to admit he was right all along and that you would very much like more of whatever this was.

You could practically feel the roll of his eyes at your threatening tone as he pulled your head like you were just one big barbie doll, so your right cheek would be rested against his chest, turning your body to the side so now your right shoulder kind of met his chest instead of your back.

“Ouch, you could be gentler,” You complained, rubbing your forehead skin where his palm was planted seconds before.

“When you deserve it,” He grunted, eyes fixed on the Tv.

“That was not very let me help you of you.”

It was easy to tell he bit back his comeback, simply taking a deep calming breath and burying his fingers in the hair behind your neck, gently rubbing the area – Maybe you would purr. Judging you now had the upper hand, you decided to in return wrap your own arms around his wait so you could get comfortable and Wooyoung gave you a cocky victory smile.

Damn it.

The two of you went through the entire episode like that and you were so relaxed that when Wooyoung stood up to open the snacks and grab some wine, you didn´t even complain about how that was a bad idea, sharing some glasses while you watched the second and third episodes and he tossed you around into every cuddling position you never even knew existed, discussing who you though were the killers and all the little gossips of the week.

“You could create like a cuddling Kama Sutra,” You joked, kind of dizzy because of the drink – or because you had an incredibly attractive man holding you for the past 2 hours or so.

“Will you quit complaining about my touchy personality now?” He smiled.

“Nah, this was a one-time thing.”

“Are you at least feeling a bit better?” Wooyoung asked, adjusting himself on the couch to look at you since you were now sitting side to side after the last episode ended.

“Yes, actually.”

It was true, you were no longer feeling like you could rip your entire skin off if you went through another second of someone not touching you.

“I have one last move prepared,” He informed excitedly.

“We´re not fucki-”

“Oh my god, will you quit it with the fucking thing? If you keep bringing It up I might start thinking you´re interested-”

“What was the idea?” You quickly asked, trying to cut the flirting off before it could lead your brain somewhere you spent the entire night not wanting to go.

“Let me give you a massage.”

“Wow, you´re really invested in this helping me thing.”

“Contrary to your big mouth, I am a good friend. Sit down right here,” Wooyoung ordered, opening his legs and pointing to the space on the floor in between his feet. “Tonight I´ll take the neediness out of you the best I can since you refuse to go out and get some dick.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored his remark, sitting down where he showed you and waiting silently as he gently gathered your hair and moved it out of the way. You cursed at how your skin erupted in goosebumps as his fingertips brushed against the side of your neck, your breath suddenly caught in your chest.

You followed the realization that this was probably a horrible idea with another glass of wine, thankful he couldn't feel your heart beating fast.

Wooyoung worked his thumbs in circles, digging them between your scapulae and pressing them up until they reached your shoulders, which he squeezed in the perfect strength to get shivers running up your spine every minute as he repeated the motion over and over.

“How are you so good at this?” You whined, hating how your body was reaction to the touches.

“There´s really nothing I´m not good at.”

“Humbleness,” You offered.

“That was a cliché answer, you can do better than that.”

“I don´t care, just please never stop.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Do you really need to make everything sexual?”

“I´ve always been that way, it´s not my fault that now that you´re horny it´s bothering you.”

You hated when he put it like that, because yes.

And maybe the way he sometimes would squeeze your neck during the massage or just the fact that he was touching you, were getting you feeling some type of way you would rather he did not notice.

“If you were a girl, you´d understand,” You groaned. “Ovulation sucks.”

“You actually just gave yourself the perfect solution, why don´t you fuck a girl?”

´Cause what I really want is fucking you.

Oh, wow.

Where did that come from?

“Speaking of which, do you even know how to?” You ask, admittedly kind of shy of asking such question.

“Know how to what?”

“Like, have- you like- With women?” You try, motioning widely towards the couch with your hands as if it would help you get your point across so you wouldn´t have to say the words.

Wooyoung seemed to get it though, hands suddenly stopping on your back so you would look at him, “Y/N, you do know I have fucked women, right?”

“How would I? You never told me!” You whine.

“I thought it would be disrespectful?”

“But when you told me how much you loved choking on San´s dick it wasn´t?”

“Well, no-”

“Or when you literally shared about how you thought about your fingers inside of me?”

“You asked for it!”

“I don´t believe you,” You narrowed your eyes towards him. “There´s no way I wouldn´t have known.”

“Do you want like a list or something?”

“What? No! That would be disrespectful.”

“See?”

“Ok, no, wait. Just tell me this: Lauren?”

“Yes.”

“Wooyoung, nooooo!” You whined.

“What? She´s hot!” He was exasperated.

“Oh my god, everything makes so much sense now.”

“Wait, did you really think I was gay? We´ve know each other for years! I talk about women all the time!”

“Yeah, but I thought you talked about women like Kevin talks about Beyoncé! Like in a slayy pussy queennn way, not in a I´d want to fuck her way.”

“Would you like me to go around harassing women?”

“No, listen: I didn´t think you were gay, I just kind of never thought about it?”

"You though I was just joking around with you the other day and you still got all hot and bothered?" Would he quit teasing you? "Kinky."

“I thought you were playing and I didn't get any way!"

“Whatever you say, princess - Wait, why did you think Ali was always hanging around my neck all these months?”

“I just thought she was kind of crazy – Wait, did you fuck her that good? She wouldn´t leave us alone for a second, it was driving me insane."

“I just told you there´s nothing I´m not good at,” He winked at you with a cocky smile on his face.

You wanted to die.

“Wooyoung,” You warned.

“Awn, am I getting to you?” His tone was so sarcastic and condescending that a fire burned inside of you that you were afraid was never going out.

“It´s the wine,” You assured, more yourself than him.

“It´s always something.”

“See? That´s why I told you I didn´t want to be alone with you.”

“Afraid you´ll jump me?” He mocked. “I´m not scared.”

"Just shut up. If whatever you're saying is true, I just want you to know you have the worst taste in women ever."

"Well, considering I would love to taste you more than I would anyone else, I agree," He played with your words.

“Go wash the glasses,” You ordered, the skin under your cheeks burning.

“Yes, ma’am,” He answered with a laugh, immediately standing up and following along.

When you were alone in the living room, your face fell between your hands in despair.

You fucking hated Jung Wooyoung and his fucking giant noise.

★

Stupid fucking Jung Wooyoung.

Fucking hell.

Cursed be the day that man was born and cursed be the hospital and the doctors and the nurses and everyone in the world for all you cared.

Your entire body was filled with rage as you opened the stupid coffee maker to pour the water into the compartment – which you had of course forgotten to fill 10 minutes earlier and almost burnt the whole office down. How would you explain to your boss that you started a fire because your brain was simply too busy flashing images of you sitting on your stupid annoying best friend´s face for the past 4 hours?

It has been 2 days since the day at your place, 2 nights since you've gotten a decent night of sleep. "Why is that?" One would ask. Well, the answer would be that your useless brain decided to sabotage you, having you dream about your best friend over and over again – Which wouldn't be so bad if 90% of the dreams didn't consist of you ridding said best friend's face, waking up sweating and wanting to scream.

At this point you just wanted to break Wooyoung's nose with a punch, so you'd never have to think about it again. After almost ripping your hair out in front of your computer, you decided on texting Hoshi for Mingyu's number - That's how desperate you were to get stupid fucking Jung Wooyoung out of your head. At least your friend assured that your ex was indeed single now and still didn't hate you, which was enough for you.

Not really knowing how to tell your ex-boyfriend, after so much time has passed, that you just wanted him to throw you around, things weren't going as fast as planned and you couldn't keep avoiding Wooyoung forever – One, because he has no sense of boundaries and would just show up at your place if you ignored him and two, you really didn't want to have the conversation that would go down when he found out why you weren't around.

It'd been over a week since you last saw Wooyoung in person, you were still in the talking stages with Mingyu, dreaming about your friend every fucking night and staring at his picture on the chatting app for hours while wanting to die. Now, you kind of genuinely didn't care anymore, Mingi and Wooyoung were right, maybe this was just about getting some dick – and you would find out if one could die of horniness if you didn't get some soon.

It was Saturday night, Hongjoong decided to throw a small party at his place to celebrate his birthday and you figured alcohol was a good solution since stabbing a knife into your brain wasn't an option. You even invited Mingyu, hoping in person and after a few drinks you'd figure how to ask him to bend you over – The man said he would be pretty late because of previous scheduled commitments but that he would go. Your ex was an incredibly attractive man who knew his way around a lady, maybe you would see all your problems flying away after tonight.

Except that after your first cup and some chatting with Mingi and Seonghwa on Hongjoong's couch, Wooyoung decided to arrive.

You took one (1) - ONE, UNO - look at the man and grabbed your phone, shooting Mingyu a text: don´t come, party´s canceled.

“Bro, your hair looks sick!” Mingi shouted before your brain could even begin to process what you were seeing.

You were the one actually about to be sick.

“Decided to try something new,” Wooyoung smirked, jumping over the back of the couch to sit next to you.

You simply stared at him dumbfounded, glad he was too busy stealing the drink from your hands to notice your mouth wide open.

Jung Wooyoung just showed up to the party with the bottom part and the front strands of his hair dyed blonde and you weren´t sure what kind of look that even was but you felt like it genuinely changed your whole life. You were pretty sure you got goosebumps when you first looked at him, lucky you were sitting down with the way your legs got weak.

“What do you think about it?” He asked you after he was content with finishing what was left in your cup.

“I hate it.”

Well, you weren´t lying. Your nails were literally digging into the palm of your hands to try and get your head back in place - The new look made his skin look tanner, the mole under his eye darker, the shape of his nose -

The way he pushed his hair back, blonde strands surrounding his face -

No, nop.

No.

“Since I know you´re joking, I´m gonna go say hi to Hongjoong and grab us more drinks so we can get this party started.”

You let him go with absolutely no fight, eyes wide and glued to his form until he was out of your sight as Seonghwa led him to where the birthday boy was supposed to be.

“Are you ok?” Mingi asked, noticing the crazy look on your face.

“I need Wooyoung to fuck me.”

Your brain definitely was short-circuiting.

“Oh. Wow. Ok.”

“I´m being serious. And I´m not happy about it.”

“Hasn´t he been offering for like weeks now?”

“Yeah.”

“So just go and tell him.”

“That´s not how it works.”

“Oh my god, why do you have to be so complicated?”

“I need him to offer again so I can say no, then when he insists, I will give in and pretend I´m kind of thorn about it.”

“And why is that?”

“So he doesn´t know he won! And I don´t like being vulnerable or whatever.”

“I know we said you need some dick, but maybe you just need some therapy.”

“Yeah, that too, but what I really need right now is your help.”

“Sure,” Mingi shrugged. That´s what you liked about him, things were simple with him.

“I need him to think I´m horny.”

“You are horny.”

“Yeah, but I need him to see it so he will joke about helping me out again.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Well, I could stand here with a bitch face all night, but it´s Joong´s birthday so I don´t really want to be like that. I don´t really have any other ideas-”

“Touch me.”

“What?”

“Like, be touchy with me.”

“Oh, that could work.”

“That will definitely work.”

“You´re good,” You complimented.

“You should come to me for help more often.”

“Don´t push it.”

“Fine.”

“You´re invested, huh?”

“Move closer,” He ordered and you obeyed, sitting sideways on the couch so you were turned towards him, left knee touching his thigh. “Lean forward and put your hand on my thigh.”

Despite your body´s discontent, you did as told.

“And don´t flinch when I touch you,” He warned.

“I feel like a spy,” You joked.

“All this because you can´t tell a guy you want to fuck,” He rolled his eyes.

“C´mon, pretend you´re not enjoying this, I dare you.”

“Touché.”

When your friends came back with more people tagging along, the first thing you noticed was the way Wooyoung´s gaze traveled immediately to your hand on Mingi´s thighs.

Ok, yeah, this could definitely work.

“Here, princess,” He handed you your drink, which you grabbed with your free hand.

“Thanks Wooyo,” You smiled at the man before turning your attention back to Mingi, not missing the way your friend squeezed his eyes at you.

Thankfully, Wooyoung didn´t say anything about it, sitting down on the floor in front of the couch as a circle naturally formed in the living room so everyone could play something, and the first choice was the 007 game. You went along with the plan, hitting Mingi´s thigh instead of your own, touching his arm when you had to laugh, not going stiff when his hand met the skin almost at the hem of your skirt.

You know what? Mingi was actually really hot too, if this night didn´t end how you expected it to, you were so horny you were just about considering asking him to fuck you.

Whenever you looked in Wooyoung´s direction, you could practically see the engines turning in his head. It was just a matter of time now and you were already feeling shaky with excitement, which you weren´t exactly thrilled about – But then you looked at him again with that stupid hair and that stupid nose and that stupid half-unbuttoned shirt and decided that to hell with your morals and ethics.

Mingi apparently decided his role in the ploy wasn´t enough for him, since after an hour or so passed by and people started standing up to go after more drinks or socialize with other people, he waited for Wooyoung to approach before asking loud and clear, “So, any luck with the getting some dick thing?”

You were not exactly a good actress but you did know how to flirt, so not really knowing how else to react to the sudden improvisation, you smiled at him, “Why? Know someone interested?”

“Yeah, nice to meet you. I´m Song Mingi,” He half-joked, hand still heavy on your thigh. “Oh, Wooyoung. You´re here, didn´t see you there.”

He was good, you had to give him that.

“I can see why,” Wooyoung answered, eyes pointing at the contact between you two.

“Jealous?” Mingi asked his friend, his tone was humorous, but you could see the challenge in his eyes. Even though he was just playing, he couldn´t help being an egotistical Leo.

“I wouldn´t say jealous is the right word.”

“Did you know Y/N invited Mingyu over?” Mingi laughed.

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow at you, eyes dancing with amusement.

“I already uninvited him, asshole.”

“Is that why you´re all touchy today?” Mingi asked. Ok, you would have to buy him some ice cream after the phenomenal performance he was delivering. “Thought you would convince her to fuck someone, Woo.”

“Believe me, I tried,” He shrugged.

“Can we quit talking about me like I´m not here? Also, I´m not an animal in heat, stop being weird.”

Well, weren´t you?

Really?

“You sure seem like it,” Wooyoung completed.

“You look hornier than me, Wooyoung.”

“I´m not denying it,” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Oh shit, I forgot my phone with Yunho,” Mingi cursed, suddenly petting his pockets. He was so convincing you almost forgot he was helping you out. “Shit, shit, shit. I´ll be back later.”

With that he stood up and quickly marched out of the living room, Wooyoung lazily taking his place next to you on the couch.

“Were you really about to let Mingi fuck you?”

“Maybe?” You answer, and well, that wasn´t a lie either.

“Ouch, that kind of hurts my ego.”

“Mingi and I are just friends, now you and I are best friends. There´s a huge difference there.”

“So, you´re saying you´d fuck me if we weren´t best friends?” He joked. “Wow, thank you. I´m shy now. No need for all these compliments.”

You rolled your eyes, not sure what to say that would lead you towards what you wanted, choosing to just be normal and hope the night would eventually get you there.

“Why did you cancel on Mingyu?”

“Didn´t think he would throw me around today.”

“Someone´s getting bold.”

“Shut up.”

“I actually like frustrated Y/N, it´s hot.”

“Then stop bothering me to fuck someone and let me be frustrated in peace.”

“Well, that seems nice but I´m sure you´d look much hotter getting the frustration out.”

“Are we back to the “you imagining someone fucking me” thing?”

“I could correct you once again saying that I´m not imagining someone else, but since you´ve made it pretty clear that you´re not interested, I´m not going to.”

That was it, that was your moment.

“And what if I tell you maybe I am?”

He stopped to give you a knowing cocky smirk that made you immediately regret raising the white flag, “I know.”

“What? Ho- No -”

“Y/N, you wouldn´t stop staring at me like you wanted me to destroy you in front of everyone while Mingi literally had his hand on you.”

“That´s not -”

“Do I have to pretend I think you were squirming because of him and not me? I can play dumb if you´d like. I can even go call him back if you tell me you weren´t wishing it was my hand almost getting under your skirt instead of his. So, are you going to give in now or are we going to keep playing this game?”

“Wooyoung-”

“We´re best friends, I know. But I don´t see how you avoiding me because you get wet every time I´m around is doing our friendship any favors either.”

Ok, he did make a pretty good case even though you were already convinced like an hour ago.

“You´re right.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I´m not fucking you at Hongjoong´s.”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded – also not liking how the tables have turned one bit. Wooyoung in turn laughed and sent you another playful wink, “Trust me, you won´t want anyone around.”

“It took a lot from me to come to terms with this, so we´re either doing it tonight or we´re not doing it.”

“Oh, princess,” He gave you a condescending look that got you wanting to rip his hair out. “I find that hard to believe, but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“Wooyoung-”

“Y/n,” His voice was calm, hand finding its place on your thigh where Mingi´s was earlier, except this time the touch burned and got you fighting for your life not to squirm. “I said I´m not fucking you at Hongjoong´s, not that I´m not fucking you.”

“Then let´s go.”

“Now, that would be rude, wouldn´t it?”

“Why are being like this?” You whined, about a second away from actually hitting the cockiness out of him.

“You have this needy look in your eyes, like you´re ready to drop down and beg at any moment,” He smiled, his free hand gently tucking your hair behind your ear like he wasn´t talking about you on your knees. “It´s cute.”

“You know what will be cute? When I ask Mingi to fuck me instead.”

“If you can go to Hongjoong, in front of everyone, and tell him that we need to leave his birthday party right now because you can´t wait for me to fuck you, I´m good to go.”

“Have you always been this annoying?”

“Only when I know you´ll like it.”

“You know you were the one asking to fuck me for weeks, right?”

“I know.”

“You just know everything, don´t you?”

“See? You´re hot when you´re frustrated.”

“You think I´m sexually frustrated but now I´m actually just mad at you.” He simply smiled at you in return, and you rolled your eyes once you realized where you had dug your grave, “I forgot you have a degradation kink or whatever. Can´t even be angry at you in peace anymore.”

“If you´re really mad at me, we should fix that. I wouldn´t want my best friend to be angry at me.”

“I don´t think it´s possible to fix it considering being annoying it´s like your whole personality. Point proven.”

“Come say that closer,” He winked playfully, and you seriously would cringe at the number of times that man has winked at you if he wasn´t Wooyoung.

Ok, coming completely clean: You were also kind of annoyed at the way you were definitely getting wet at the banter between the two of you, like teasing each other wasn´t what your whole friendship has been about for years.

It also helped that Wooyoung´s hand was still on your thigh, veins sticking out and fingers filled with rings that you just couldn´t stop picturing against the skin on your neck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

It took a second to decide if you would actually listen to that one braincell fighting for its life inside your head or not, but in the end, you decided against it, quickly standing up so you could sit on Wooyoung´s lap and take him by surprise as you straddled his thighs, one of your knees on each side of legs.

Yeah, there was definitely something pulsing in between your legs. Fucking hell.

You moved too quicky for Wooyoung to process what was going on, so it really was amusing the way he violently jerked once you moved your head closer, lips almost brushing his ears as you whispered, “What do you want me to say?”

For a second you had almost forgotten it was Jung Wooyoung under you, but he was fast to remind you as one of his hands found its place on the side of your thigh and the other grabbed onto your waist, where his thumb brushed gentle circles against your exposed skin. He took advantage of the fact you were already bent down to say against your ear this time, “You never told me.”

“What?” You asked, creating some distance between you so you could look at the smirk on his face and because you didn´t quite like the way you got weak when you felt his breath against your skin so closely.

“The other day, we made a deal. You said you would tell me what you imagined me doing to you if I told you first, but you ran away after I completed my part. You owe me.”

Under regular circumstances you would have stood up and left right then and there, but the way his palms met the front part of your thighs and started rubbing them up and down, a bit higher each time, got you wanting to play his game to see where it would end.

“You´re right. That day was the first time I ever thought about you sexually, and you know what triggered it?”

“What?” He smiled at the way goosebumps erupted all over your skin under his touches.

“Your nose.”

“So you like my nose?”

“And your lips, but mostly your nose.”

"And what about my lips and nose?"

"Was just thinking about how good they'd feel under me," You look into his eyes, centimeters away from yours, thankful that Hongjoong had deemed the lights at some point of the night and now Wooyoung's face was illuminated only by a pink hue, coming from a fake sunset light your friend had bought on AliExpress.

"That's good, ‘cause I've never wanted someone to sit on my face so bad before."

“Careful,” You warned, inching your face closer to his, toying with the buttons on his shirt as your lips were almost brushing. “We still need to go back to being friends after we fuck and get this off our systems.”

"I’m sure we can manage," He smiled, inching closer himself so now your lips were indeed touching as he continued speaking. "I'm a good friend after all."

"Kiss me then, I dare you," You breathed out, shooting your last shot.

He laughed at that, "You know I never back down from a challenge."

But well, it worked.

Wooyoung made his words true, grabbing onto your waist with a firmness that you didn't know he had to pull you closer. With your chests now glued, his lips finally pressed against yours and you hated yourself for not being disappointed. You so wanted the man to be all bark and no bite, but the moment his tongue met yours you understood why that girl wouldn't leave him alone. You had indeed kissed many people before, but it had never felt like this - and also, you were right, his plush lips were definitely something to obsess over.

What didn't surprise you at all, was that like in everything else, Wooyoung was a tease. In some moments when you would deepen the kiss, he would pull back a bit and bite on your bottom lip just to laugh when you groaned in annoyance. When he felt you were getting frustrated at his little games, he would grab onto your hips and grind them against his – which well, definitely got your mind to stop thinking about how insufferable he was. Good thing you knew how to play too, hands finding the roots of his hair to pull harshly on it, almost passing out at the whine he let out.

"I love that you're wearing a skirt," He groaned out.

"Why is that?" You were so breathless you almost got embarrassed.

"I can feel how wet you are."

Fuck.

"You must be imagining things."

"Oh, am I?" The cunning smile he gave you along with those words should have prepared you.

It really shouldn't have surprised you when one of his hands left your ass and snaked its way in between your bodies. You leaned back a little to try and understand what was happening, giving Wooyoung all the access he needed to get his hand under your skirt and press the pad of his middle finger right on your clit over your panties.

"Told ya," He smirked in content at the way you gasped involuntarily.

"Wooyoung-"

"What? Weren't you the one who couldn't wait?" He teased, rubbing slow circles with his finger. "If you're already soaked like this, I can't even imagine what it would be like if I just pushed your panties to the side-"

"No-" You whined, thorn between just letting him do whatever he wanted or stopping him - since you were very much in the middle of your friend's living room and there were people around.

"Getting shy now?"

“Wooyoung.”

“That´s my name,” You could see in his eyes how much fun he was having teasing you.

“You want me to stop teasing or stop touching you?” He mocked with a smile on his face, finger still working on you as you fought with all your life to not squirm on his lap.

“You know what? If you want everyone to see, I can put on a show,” You sighed, accepting defeat.

You expected Wooyoung to smirk once again but was instead surprised when he stopped and retreated his hand, adjusting your skirt back in place. Your heart dropped at the sight, searching for answers in his eyes, but they were busy looking somewhere else: Mingi had gotten back. You could see the way the tall man was frozen at the entrance, eyes wide and hand once again stuck in the air – this time holding his phone proudly.

You sent a glare at the intruder (as if there were not at least 10 other people in the room). The moment Mingi´s eyes caught yours, he jumped as if he had just woken up from a nap and he tried mouthing something like “sorry” and “oh shit” so you just rolled your eyes and motioned with your hand for him to move along, preferably far away. He seemed to get the message, almost tripping with how fast he spun on his heels and left.

“What? Weren´t you the one who wanted everyone to know?” You asked Wooyoung, tone pointy as you climbed off his lap. It was like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over you. THIS WAS JUNG WOOYOUNG.

YOUR BEST FRIEND JUNG WOOYOUNG.

THE GUY WHO MADE YOU DRESS LIKE A CHEERLEADER TO GO TO HIS COLLEGE SOCCER GAMES AND CHEER FOR HIM, THE GUY WHO BURPED AND LAUGHED AT HIS OWN DISGUSTINESS, THE GUY WHO DID A CRISTIANO RONALDO IMPRESSION EVERYTIME HE WON SOMETHING, THE GUY YOU HAD TO ONCE RESCUE FROM A PIG FARM AFTER DRINKING WAY TOO MUCH!

“Yeah, but I guess my protective best friend side spoke louder,” He sighed too, fixing his pants. “Don´t be mad.”

“I´m not mad.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Yes, I´m mad. Ok? Cause now the magic is over or whatever and I realized you´re my best friend and we can´t fuck.”

He turned around on the couch to be able to look into your eyes, his searching. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so he simply closed his eyes, sighed once again and stood up, offering his hand, “C´mon. Let me take you home.”

★

“So, Mingyu huh?” Wooyoung asked, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear.

“Don´t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Ask about another man and pretend everything´s normal.”

“Well, I guessed that now that we can´t fuck we can go back to being normal best friends.”

You locked your jaw and crossed your arms. You were angry and you didn´t even know what for – But you expected Wooyoung to fix it, nonetheless.

“Use your words.”

“No.”

“Ok, then. Silent ride it is.”

You huffed; aware you were acting like a spoiled child, but you were just angry at the mess inside your head and that your friend was not able to read your mind and untangle everything so it made sense. Maybe you really were just spoiled and angry you didn´t get what you wanted when you wanted.

“Oh. I get it now.”

“What?” Wooyoung asked, eyes moving from the road for a second to look at you.

“When you call me a brat. I get it now.”

“I was searching my brain for plausible reasons for you to be all sulky, for you to admit you were mad just because I didn´t fuck you at the party?”

“Yeah? Not just that, but you know I don´t like when things don´t go my way, I just wanted everything to happen fast so I wouldn´t have time to think about it but then when I thought about it, I felt bad because I still wanted it to happen but I know it shouldn´t.”

“Y/N, it´s sex.”

“Don´t make me sound stupid.”

“I´m not, you´re just really overthinking this.”

“Yeah, that´s the whole point. And it´s all your fault, so you see why I´m mad now?”

“Yes. I´m the worst.”

“You are.”

“Not when I fuck you, thought.”

“The moment has passed, Wooyoung. The train has left the station. Deal with it.”

“If you say so. Are you opening the garage, or should I park outside?”

“I didn´t bring the tag – Wait, are you going up?”

“Street it is then.”

“Answer me, stupid.”

“Yes, I´m going up.”

“What for?”

“You said it yourself, if we´re best friends and nothing more is ever happening, there should be no problem with me sleeping over, right? We´ve done it thousands of times.”

“Yeah,” You squeezed your eyes at him. You knew what game he was playing, trying to prove you wrong – But you were also convinced you were more stubborn than him and that you would instead prove him wrong.

“Slumber party, fun!” He exclaimed, taking the key out and tapping your thigh before leaving his car.

★

“Since this was kind of last minute,” You heard Wooyoung´s voice approaching your room, “I didn´t really bring any clothes.”

And there he was, next to your bed in nothing but a towel around his hips, long messy hair slightly dripping down his torso and toothbrush in his mouth, looking all casual like you both knew he wasn´t doing this on purpose.

The fact that it was working only made you even more annoyed.

“You know where the drawer with your stuff is,” You groaned, pretending to look at your nails.

He looked way too smug as he turned to your closet, opening said drawer to pull out some sweatpants. You kind of expected (or is it hoped the right word?) that he would just unknot the towel and expose himself to try and seduce you, but he behaved and simply pulled the pants under the fabric before unwrapping it.

“Have you not heard about underwear?”

“Have you not heard that it´s healthier to sleep without it? You should hang out with me more, I can teach you a lot.”

“Yeah, I already see you enough, thanks.”

“Come dry my hair.”

“I think you´re perfectly capable of doing that yourself.”

“Yeah, but I like when you do it.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned, pushing the blanket out of you, “Fine.”

Wooyoung walked to the bathroom in front of you, surely having planned the way his back and arms looked from behind. You had seen him without a shirt hundreds of times already, why did you feel like you wanted to jump him now?!!?!?!? You figured you were over it after coming back to your senses but oh boy, were you wrong.

“Has San been dragging you to the gym?” You asked as he bent over to get the hair dryer from the bottom drawer. You figured making small talk and acting normally would keep your brain busy.

“Yeah. And you would know that if you opened the hundreds of snaps I send you every day.”

“I´m not 14, Wooyoung. Snapchat died in 2015, sorry to inform you,” You joked as you plugged the dryer he handed you. “Give me the towel.”

He did as told, sitting down on your toilet as you started drying the water excess from his hair. Doing your best so no part of your arm or leg would accidentally touch his skin since you could feel the heat emanating from it.

That was no way of living.

Once the towel was completely damp, you tossed it on the floor and grabbed a brush, ignoring how he closed his eyes in appreciation at the touch. You fucking hated him and the way your heart was beating fast for absolutely no reason.

Now untangled, you reached over to get the hair dryer once again but were stopped with a soft touch to the side of your leg.

You looked down at the man expecting an answer and he simply gave you a lazy smile, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling you in between his legs, “Come here. Let me look at you while you do it.”

Well, you let him pull you along because there was nothing really sexual about it, Wooyoung was just a touchy person and he looked like he was about to fall asleep anyways.

You turned on the dryer and used your fingers to move his hair around so the heat would get to his roots, feeling the skin of your face heat up at the way he hummed in content. Wooyoung had a lot of hair, and not just that, but he had a lot of thick hair, so you were already aware you would spend a long time in there, appreciating the silence and the fact he was pretty much out of it so you could let your guard down.

WHICH IS EXACTLY WHY you jumped in surprise when both of his hands found their way to the side of your thighs, just very softly rubbing them up and down as you dried his strands, goosebumps erupting all over your body at the delicate touch.

Once again, just sleepy touchy Wooyoung.

Nothing new, nothing to fuss over.

Except YOU WERE FUSSING OVER IT BECAUSE ONCE AGAIN YOU FELT A PULSE WHERE YOU DIDN´T WANT TO FEEL A PULSE.

This whole situation was just so domestic and nice that it scratched a very specific part of your brain that got you wanting to live in that moment forever – except maybe not with your best FRIEND.

“I like when you touch me,” His raw voice came out softly. “You don´t do it a lot, so I have to enjoy every chance I get.”

You didn´t have an answer to that, the only thing you could think to say was “stop” but how could he stop when he wasn´t even doing anything to begin with? This time it was not his fault that your mind was in the gutter.

“You have enough people touching you already,” You managed to string a few words.

“Yeah, but it feels nicer when it´s you,” He opened his eyes, you could see the sincerity in them and you felt bad that you kind of just wanted to punch him and run away.

You were also surprised by the sudden unexpected eye contact, which explains why you accidentally pulled one of his strands a bit harshly. WHAT WASN´T EXPLAINED THOUGH, WAS THE LOW MOAN HE LET OUT AND THE WAY HIS EYES CLOSED AS HIS MOUTH PARTED. OR THE WAY YOURS HUNG OPEN TOO AT THE SOUND OR THE WAY YOU COULDN´T STOP STARING AT THE STUPID MOLE ON HIS LIP.

It was a moment of insanity, a few seconds when your soul was out of your body; when you tentatively pulled on his hair again, feeling his nails digging into the skin of your thighs and his breathing getting heavier, yours matching.

“If you really don´t want us to fuck then you´re just being cruel right now,” He breathed out, eyes still closed as his forehead met your abdomen.

“I don´t?”

“Is that a question?”

“No. I don´t. I think your hair is dry.”

“It´s definitely not,” He argued, raising his head once again. “C´mon, finish it. No funny business, I promise.”

You wanted to tell him it´s not him you were worried about, it’s the way your own body was betraying you that bothered you, but you took a deep breath and continued with the work, doing your best to ignore his eyes on you or how his hands were once again toying with your thighs or how his thighs were touching your legs or how he was centimeters away from you.

Yeah, a lot of things to ignore.

Was your bathroom always this small?

“You smell nice.”

“I shower once in a while,” You agreed. “And you said no funny business.”

“I´m complimenting you, how is that sexual?”

“It´s not,” You agreed.

He smirked at you because he too was well aware of the tension, if the way his sweatpants were suddenly tight were anything to go by. Thankfully he didn´t answer because you don´t think you could continue to ignore it if he mentioned he was getting hard just by you drying his hair.

Eventually, after what felt like days, you finally turned off the dryer and prayed he would agree to your suggestion, “You´re done. Wanna sleep?”

“Nop, this is a slumber party.”

“What? You want to have a pillow fight now or do facemasks and gossip?” You rolled your eyes.

“Although the first option sounds fun, I was thinking we can watch something until we fall asleep.”

Watch something.

Until you fell asleep.

In your bed.

Sure, what could go wrong?

“What are you doing?” Wooyoung asked amusedly.

“Building a barrier between our sides of the bed.”

He laughed loudly at that, crawling into the bed too and taking the pillows from where you were organizing them, “Wooyoung!”

“Shut up, you enjoyed cuddling once and you will enjoy it again.”

“Absolutely not.”

“What? Afraid you won´t be able to resist me? I thought we were just friends,” He teased.

“Very funny-“

“Because if you´re interested we can just skip the foreplay and go straight to –“

“What do you want to watch?”

You ignored his low chuckle, giving up on fighting for the pillows and getting comfortable on your bed so you could turn on the TV.

“Community?”

“Great,” You agreed between gritted teeth, opening the Netflix app and putting on the show from where you two had stopped it as Wooyoung fluffed the pillows behind his back next to you.

This time he didn´t even ask before pulling you in between his legs, your back against his chest. You didn´t even fight it because honestly, what for? You simply groaned as you felt him searching for the light switch on the wall over your bed.

“Don´t pretend you don´t enjoy it, I´ve got you all figured out now.”

“Yeah yeah, believe what you want to.”

“Shut up, I´m trying to watch the show.”

You huffed, rolled your eyes and crossed your arms all at the same time. You knew it wasn´t at him you were annoyed – although he was sure making a great job at feeding into it.

You also immediately regretted wearing shorts as the palms of his hands splayed over your thighs.

“It´s too hot,” You complained, hoping he would let you go.

Wooyoung simply stretched out one of his hands and grabbed the AC remote, turning it on before tossing it away and returning his palm to your thigh. His silence told you he was focused on the show and you truly wish you could say the same about yourself, but instead, your eyes were glued to the sight in front of you like it was a car wreck, not being able to look away no matter how much your brain ordered you to. Your knees were bent, your thighs almost touching your chest, so his hands were just right there in your line of sight, all veiny and calloused.

The harder you tried to stir your mind away and pay attention to the TV, the more your brain looked like a Wattpad fanfic written by a 40-year-old who just got divorced and discovered sex wasn't just missionary. The conversation you had with Wooyoung about how the girls he fucked became literally obsessed with him kept flashing into your head and you were legitimately about to bite onto your fist and scream for 7 whole minutes.

Your mental breakdown however was interrupted by the man behind you, who with no words started tracing his fingers – seemingly – unpresumptuously over your skin. You ignored it because you had no energy to fight it and as long as it stayed PG-rated it would be fine.

The soft touches plus the very cold wind from the AC hitting you got goosebumps to erupt up your skin and you just felt how your nipples were suddenly sensitive against the fabric of your shirt and Wooyoung´s hand were just there, mere centimeters away and oh, you so desperately wanted him to touch them. In fact, you wanted it so badly you were fighting for your life to keep the uncomfortable squirming to a minimum.

Thankfully, Wooyoung didn´t notice it – deep down you knew he was just pretending not to for your sake, but if he could, so would you.

“Who do you think is hotter, Annie or Britta?” His voice suddenly, almost against your ear, shocked you. “Oh, jumpy, are we?”

“Shut up, I was just startled.”

“So?”

“Britta.”

“Same.”

He went quiet once again, except now, when you thought his mind was once again focused on the show, his hands started getting braver. They escalated from just his fingers drawing shapes on the patch above your knees to suddenly coming down to the sensitive skin between your thighs. You jerked involuntarily even though he only traced his fingers about halfway down your legs. Wooyoung once again pretended to not notice your reaction and you pretended to not notice he was touching you.

His fingers gently brushing the sides of your thighs all the way to your knees before you could feel the tip of his middle finger slowly grazing your skin down the inside of your thighs, lower and lower each time he came down. At this point your heart was beating so fast it was almost coming out of your throat, your breathing labored and sweat building up on your forehead even though the room was freezing cold.

“She´s kind of annoying, though.”

“Who?” You breathed out, honestly not even knowing your name anymore.

“Britta.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Silence once again.

Attention back to the show.

You had to control your whine of disappointment when he retreated his hands.

Ok, you took the chance to breathe, count to 10 and give yourself a pep talk. You could do this. You would not fuck your best friend. If not because of your morals and because of your friendship, because fucking him would mean he won, and you would never give Wooyoung the satisfaction.

Ok, you could do this.

You could definitely do this.

Wooyoung gently gathered your hair and pushed it over your right shoulder, the familiar goosebumps showing up once again at the way the tip of his fingers brushed against the skin of your neck.

Yeah, you could not do this.

The sound that came out of your mouth when his wet lips met the juncture between your neck and shoulder could only be described as a pinscher finding out it could bark. You were in fact shaking as much as those annoying tiny dogs are known for.

You froze, not being able to react when you felt him sucking on your skin or when his tongue tried to soothe the pain his teeth left behind. Your core was clenching so hard it hurt.

“Wooyoung,” Your voice came out as half plead half warning.

“Hm?” He hummed against a different spot on your neck, and it made it a thousand times worse.

“We shouldn´t-”

“Just tell me to stop and I will.”

Except you couldn´t. Not when he found your sweet spot and grazed his teeth against it before gently sucking on it. This time you allowed yourself to squirm and you felt it at the same time you heard it; Wooyoung groaned as you accidentally pressed against him and figured out you were not the only one going insane. His dick was hard and now very much pulsing against your ass and lower back.

Both of you realized you never told him to stop and you were fighting so hard to gain control of your body back as he kissed the vein on your neck - but it was all lost when his hands snaked around your torso and grabbed your boobs. You whimpered, shamefully, squeezing your legs together to try and relieve some of the throbbing.

His kisses grew harsher, as he sucked one spot hard enough to leave a mark, the pad of his middle fingers toyed with your nipples and you simply couldn't pretend you didn´t want this to happen anymore, not with the way you could literally start dripping onto your bed any moment now.

A gasp left your lips when his right hand grabbed onto your thigh and pulled your legs open. You felt his dick twitching when he saw the wet patch in the middle of your shorts.

“Oh, princess,” He sighed, pressing against the stain in pure admiration.

“Wooyoung-”

“Tell me to stop.”

He gave you no time to consider his words, pulling the bottom of your shorts and panties to the side and rubbing his middle finger down your slit to wet it. You carved your nails onto his thighs in return, doing your best to stay grounded. It didn´t even take a minute for you to understand why the prior girls who slept with Wooyoung became obsessed with him, you weren´t really doing anything yet and the second the pad of his finger found your clit while his other hand gently pressed down onto your lower stomach everything became even clearer. You threw your head back on his shoulder in pleasure as he rubbed figure eights against your clit.

Yeah, you agreed to pretend nothing happened starting tomorrow, but you figured you would never be able to forget the sound of your best friend´s deep moan against your ear when he felt you around his finger for the first time.

“Glad to see I´m not the only one going crazy,” He groaned against your ear - and when did his voice get so raspy?

You whined once again, not really knowing what else to do when you were practically on the edge from a minute or two of stimulation.

“Tell me to stop.”

“Wooyoung-”

“I love when you say my name.”

Were you about to cry?

At this point, you just wanted him to ignore you and throw you around and do whatever he wanted, but you knew he wouldn´t until you said so, and you were definitely not doing that. Although with every second that passed with his finger on you, that definitely was turning more into a probably.

“I never told you.”

“Wha- What?”

“From all the ways I imagined this happening, I never told you my favorite.”

“What is it?”

“It´s the one where we´re in a sleepover and you´re so desperate that you can´t even go to the bathroom, so you just very quietly put your hands inside your shorts and touch yourself right next to me thinking that I´m asleep. And I pretend I am, but I can hear the small whimpers you try to hold back, I can feel the slight shake of the bed and I can hear how wet you are so clearly. Sometimes, I even imagine you would decide to use me, not even try to wake me up, just sit on my face and ride it until I pretend to wake up and finally eat you out until you´re crying and shaking.”

When you literally had to hold yourself back from finishing at his words, you grabbed his hand and turned around on your knees, smashing your lips with no fanciness against his. He was quick to grab your ass and direct you to sit on top of his legs, your thighs on either side of his in the familiar position as your tongues met and you pulled the hairs on the back of his neck with all the frustration you had inside you.

“We´re not fucking,” You informed in between labored breaths.

“We don´t have to fuck, I just need you to sit on my face.”

You never whined so loudly in your life before.

That was the one single thing you have been dreaming about hearing for weeks now and you were so happy you could practically cry, in fact, you almost came right there without even being touched.

The link to Part 2 is at the top! <3

#wooyoung smut #wooyoung fics #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung x reader #ateez smut #ateez fics #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #wooyoung ateez #wooyoung #jung wooyoung

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riseatlantisss · 1 year ago

Text

The end we start from

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader/Tav Around 1,8 words Takes place after the events in Cazador's palace in act 3 (non-ascended Astarion, established relationship) Angst with a happy ending (and loooots of sex) <3

Astarion doesn’t feel good enough. you show him he’s everything.

TW : 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, very angry/angsty/rough sex, fingering, mature language, mentions of death and depression, mentions of blood

A/N : when i don’t work, i do two things: i take care of my dog and i play BG3. i don’t eat. i don’t sleep. i don’t socialize. i just play BG3. and I write stuff about *him*.

Astarion is many things. Quiet is not one of them. But lately, that’s all he’s been, and you’ve been worrying about him night and day. Tonight is no exception. You wake up in the middle of the night and realize two things : not only is Astarion’s side of the bed empty but the sheets and pillows are untouched, uncrumpled. His side hasn’t been slept in. This isn’t right. Of course, he doesn’t really need to sleep but he always, always lays next to you at night, spooning you, playing with your hair and whispering sweet I love yous in your ear until you fall asleep. His absence means something’s off. Unable to shake off the anxiety, you get up in one swift motion, determined to find him. No chance you’re falling back asleep now anyway.

Your bare feet hit the cold marble floor and you shiver as you make your way accros the bedroom in a hurry. You think of searching outside in case he went for a hunt, but it turns out you don’t have to look too far. There he is, silently leaning against the wall by the window, gazing into the pitch-black night of the Underdark. The light in the room is so dim that you couldn’t even spot him from your bed. You approach him and your heart breaks a little when you notice the lingering sadness in his crimson eyes, enhanced by the faint light of the burning candles next to him.

You want to ask him if he’s ok but it’s obvious he’s not so instead, you remain silent and close the space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him and gently resting your head on his shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask softly after a while, your voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion averts his gaze and gives you a faint smile, nothing but a twist of lips.

“Nothing,” he replies. “I’m just being selfish, as usual. Forgive me, y/n.”

You frown and stare at him incredulously. “You’re not selfish,” you say, surprised at how intensely he means it. “Why would you even say that?”

“I –” He pauses, rethinks his words. This does nothing to make you less worried. “I caused you great pain,” he finally says. “I put you in danger. Repeatedly, ever since we met. You could have died a hundred times and it would have been my own, entire fault.”

You look up to him and feel a lump form in your throat. You have never seen him look like this – grief in his eyes and etched into the lines of his face.

“I’m not dead, Astarion. I’m right here with you.” You say as you wrap your arms around his neck. He makes a sound somewhere near a sob and your arms tighten.

“But I did put you in danger and now you’re stuck with me for eternity, in the middle of nowhere, and you—" Again, he stops. He’s bad at this, at talking about emotions. But he fights through it because it’s you. And nothing can be left unsaid between the two of you. Not after everything that’s happened. “You deserve so much better. You deserve the world, and I can’t give it to you.” You’re not sure where this conversation is going but you don't want to find out. His lower lip quiver but he goes on, words spilling out of him like blood from a wound. “I can’t give it to you, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it. It’s killing me all over again.” You crumble under each one of his words. His lips are trembling now and you can’t stand it. You can’t but you can’t do him the dishonor of looking away either.

“Astarion, I chose this life.” Your hands flutter to his face, each one cupping a cold cheek, forcing him to look at you. Your heart is pounding, and you know he can feel it. “I had a choice; I could stay, or I could run, and I chose you. I’m not stuck here. I’m home.”

Astarion heaves a faltering breath in an attempt at composure. “Sometimes I think you would be happier without me. Better off.” He barely mouths the words, but you hear them all distinctively, nonetheless. “You should go and leave me here. Walk in the sun. Be happy and live your life.” You draw your hands away from his face and he steps back, speaking louder now.

“It won’t get any better in here,” he continues, gesturing urgently around the room. “It’ll always be cold and dark, I’ll always be a blood-thirsty monster. I belong to the shadows, and I’ll never be able to make you happy, so you might as well just leave.”

His words knock the air out of your lungs and, for a moment, you cannot breathe. You feel your pulse pounding in your veins and blood thrumming under your skin as your heartbreak turns into anger. That fucking idiot, you think, looking up at him through eyes blurred with tears.

“You don’t know what makes me happy. You don’t,” you shout, surprised by the vehemence in your voice. "And you certainly don't get to speak for me." Astarion looks at you in such confusion that you almost feel bad for a moment, but you continue.

“You – you make me happy, Astarion, gods you do. I would rather live an eternity in the Underdark with you than one more day in the fucking sun.” Your heart is clenching in your chest, and you can feel the heat pooling in your cheeks. “By no means would I be better off, let alone happier, without you. I can’t believe that you could even think –” You trail off and sigh in frustration. You can’t bring yourself to scream at him any longer because that’s all he’s ever known before you, screams and shouts and abuse, and you can’t do this to him. But that doesn’t leave you with many options to get through to him. Astarion opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t let him.

Without warning you grab his shirt to pull him close and your lips crash into his, knocking the breath out of both of you with the force that you collide with. It only fuels your rage because the moment his lips are on yours, you can’t help thinking that you almost lost this once and you can’t actually lose it. You won’t let that happen. So you kiss him harder. It’s rough and desperate and sloppy. It's harsh breath and biting teeth.

He turns you around and backs you against the wall. You take it rather hard, but you welcome the sting. Anything to shut him up about not being good enough for you. He crowds in closer, presses you even harder against the wall, shoving his knee between your thighs. His cold lips connect to your throat, making you eagerly tilt your head to give him access to your thrumming pulse dancing at your neck. You have absolutely no qualms about it. If he wants it, it’s his.

But he doesn’t take it. Instead, his mouth sucks and licks, making you squirm and rock your hips against him. You cling to him, grabbing his shoulders and sliding your hands down his shirt and to his back. He hoists you up like you weighed nothing and you wrap both legs around his waist. You tangle your hands in his curly silver hair and pull him forward to feel that mouth on yours again. His tongue running over your lip makes you grind faster, searching for more, more, more. You moan when his hand reaches beneath your gown and through your damp underwear.

Firm, icy fingers are stroking you into madness. You make a sound that’s close to a whimper, but more like a groan, because damn it, you are so impatient now. You are clenching – aching to have him inside.

He is gasping at the feeling of your fluttering around him, and you must be gasping too, but you’re not sure; your head falls back and it feels like you’re breathing, but you could just as well be drowning.

You dig your nails hard into his back - you need to channel the anger into something. Maybe you’ll be the one drawing blood this time. You lean forward to rest your dizzy head on his shoulder and groan in anticipation. Not wasting anymore time, he pushes his hard, large cock into you, going steadily until he’s all the way in.

“Harder. Fuck me harder.” You plead and he obeys.

He sets a pace that graces all the right spots, spurred on the increasingly desperate noises escaping your mouth. This is no effort at all for him, holding you up easily and fucking you hard with determination. But you can see it when you rest your forehead against his – the sheer weakness you feel is reflected right back at you and you know he needs this just as much as you do.

You are so close. You need to concentrate on breathing, just so you simply don’t die. Your lower back thuds against the wardrobe with your oh gods and fucks singing in tandem. The vampire trails open-mouthed kisses and little bites down your neck while maintaining the almost vicious pace in and out of you. Every stroke curls and loves and breaks you into submission. You forget to be angry because your release is in his hands and your body is desperately handing itself over to him.

Your thighs start to quiver around him, the sounds of wetness and the feeling of his own explosion of pleasure deep inside you taking you so high that eventually, you shatter into him. You’re so grateful for the strength holding you up, so you can fall apart.

Your repeatedly moan his name on your way back to consciousness, lips brushing softly against his pale skin.

Before you know what is happening, you break into a sob.

“Please…. Please don’t ever tell me to leave, ever again.” You try to articulate, your voice shaking uncontrollably.

He sinks down onto his knees, holding you in his lap and whispering, “Shh,” into your ear.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice is low and full of gravel. He never sounded so sweet. “I love you, always have and always will. And you’re not going anywhere.”

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koriangguk · 2 months ago

Text

✧ vegas temptation

✧ synopsis: Falling victim to yet another failed situationship, you're consumed by dread. Maybe love is something you aren't destined to experience in this lifetime? Or maybe you just need a little getaway and a friend who'll accompany the series of impulsive decisions this would entail. Thankfully, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?

✧ genre: fake dating au, heavy on smut with a sprinkle of angst

✧warnings: cream play, nipple play, hickeys, different positions, protected/unprotected sex, public nudity (?), tongue-fuck, fingering, denied orgasm, overstimulation, ice play, vibrator play, rope play, candle burns (?) ✧recommended artists: Chase Atlantic, The Weeknd, Daniel Di Angelo, Doja Cat

Everyone knows heartbreak is a pain in the ass, but an intriguing one at that.

It pulls on your heartstrings and fuels the desperate longing to feel whole again. Releasing a tide of emotions that follow suit as your consciousness drowns under the shattering pieces of broken promises, white lies and everything in between.

But, nothing compares to the ego that awakens within you as you enter a phase of recovery, embarking on the infamous villain arc. One that is flamed with rage and hunger for revenge.

Because, let's be honest, a good heart can only take you so far until everything comes crashing down again. Before you are back at square one, like clockwork, slaving after hours just to receive the bare minimum.

So, fuck that and fuck Kim Jaewon. Stupid cunt.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for Jungkook and his Black Amex you wouldn’t even bother brushing your hair, let alone worry about which lacey lingerie you should pack for a week in Vegas.

The Entertainment Capital of the World.

Well, it certainly would be entertaining to put two best friends into a couple’s suite and hope that nothing happens. But, as Jungkook’s dilated pupils watched you swallow your feelings with another shot of tequila it didn’t really seem like he was the one betting on that deal. Quite the opposite actually.

“Honestly, screw him, y/n.” he muttered, running his fingers through those dark locks as the two of you waited for your flight at the boujee business lounge.

In contrast to his trust fund upbringing, you felt like the biggest elephant in the room venturing into the wrong tax bracket. So, the potential side effects of the alcohol running down your esophagus were primarily to calm the nerves of sticking out like a sore thumb, and only slightly to forget your ex.

“Have you been listening at all? I kind of already did.” your lips pursed in annoyance, words barely stringing together.

You weren't annoyed at Jungkook, per se, more so at yourself for letting it get this far. For intoxicating your system at the crack of dawn, as at least twenty pairs of eyes watched the two of you bicker. But, come on, surely it was 5 pm somewhere. Listen, when everything is already going wrong, how damaging could another bad decision be? Especially, in the form of a liquid. So, please, everyone keep your judgement to yourself.

“Well, then that might just be the problem.”

“Huh?” your gaze furrowed, brows knitted with confusion.

“You’re fucking the wrong guys, y/n.” Jungkook whispered with a sly grin.

“Right. And you, I’m assuming would have been my Mr. Right, of course.” you scoffed, jabbing your finger into his chest before looking back up at his heavy gaze.

“Give me a week and we'll see.” he teased, using his foot to pull on your chair, bringing your tipsy form closer until inches were separating your parted lips from his.

Playful would have been the best word to describe your relationship with Jungkook. You never crossed the line between friends and lovers but were in very close proximity to doing so. So, when you poured your heart out, crying on his shoulder the night Jaewon’s cheating scandal broke out like wildfire, a part of Jungkook was pleased by the news despite how selfish it might have looked.

Simply put, he was never a fan of your boyfriends. How could he be when the mere sight of another man beside you triggered every cell in his body, charging a visceral reaction that was forced to be suppressed, kept on the low because you were never his to be territorial of.

Never his to be taken care of. To be loved. Oh, if only you knew how badly he wanted it. How badly he wanted you.

Only, you did know. Because, like a sickening aftertaste, the tension between the two of you always lingered. But he kept his distance, and you played on with the denial. Praying for each other’s downfall, you hoped that the other would finally cave in, and say the three words that would change the trajectory of your relationship forever.

But, as time went on, his fetish for your love only grew stronger and an innocent crush matured into a craving. One that could no longer be suppressed no matter how much you tried to push it away. To push him away.

Jaewon was your last straw. The breaking point that made you question whether you were destined to be loved in this lifetime. And although he caused you pain, you didn’t know if you should thank your ex or curse his whole bloodline, because now that he was gone there was no point in denying that Jungkook and you were more than just friends.

Lathering the shea butter on your damp skin, your vision was hazy, body seemingly recovering from the hot shower. But, after that 15-hour flight surrounded by multiple throw-ups and diaper changes, a scrub-down was a must. So, there you were standing in front of the full-sized mirror in the pink pyjama set your mom gifted you specifically for this trip. Whatever that meant.

See, Jungkook had a way with words. It was his charm. His sensual demeanour could have an innocent bystander wrapped around his finger with one plea. A practical skill that most likely fueled your mother’s spending on the silk fabric, but one that you have yet to fall victim to.

His mind games were strong, but your stubbornness was stronger. He didn’t mind, actually, kind of adored it. The dominant side of you, the way you could shut him up with one glare. It made loving you so much more thrilling, worth fighting for every sigh, every eye roll, every sneer.

“Stop looking at me like that.” you blurted at the man's reflection as his palms rested on the top of the doorframe, darkened orbs bluntly eying your body from top to bottom.

“Like what?” Jungkook grinned, nibbling on his lip rings.

“Like you want something.” you whispered with a furrowed gaze, spraying some leave-in conditioner into your detangled hair.

“Hmm … but, I do want something.” he teased, inching closer before you felt his bare chest hit your back, veiny hands holding onto your waist.

“I bet. I made rules you know? In case you thought I’d give in so easily.” you murmured, turning to face him as your fingers slightly tugged on the towel wrapped around his hips.

“Is that so?” he chuckled softly, eyes flickering down to your plump lips.

“Mhhm,” you nodded, feeling his hands slowly travel up your top as your own intertwined behind his neck.

“Did I break any already?” he rasped into your ear, teeth grazing against the soft skin.

Your mouth curled into a mischievous sneer as you whispered, “Just one.”

However, before he could respond, your fist was already gripping the chains on his neck, gently pulling him toward the king-sized bed that was covered in rose petals and a complimentary note from the hotel.

Happy honeymoon, lovebirds!

Loosening his towel, Jungkook watched as you straddled his lap, pressing your hands onto his chest before innocently glancing up at his parted lips. You could have sworn a drool dripped down his mouth, but it might’ve just been your ego flying through the roof as you felt his racing heartbeat.

“May I?” you teased, slowly rocking your hips against the friction beneath you.

“By all means, love.” he purred, tracing his hands back onto your thighs before flinching at your sudden slap.

“Hands off, Jeon. Rule number one.” you giggled at the sudden change in his demeanour. The way his furrowed gaze searched for the audacity that could’ve potentially justified the words that came out of your mouth.

“You’re fucking with me, right?” he groaned, jerking his head back.

“No?” a small pout worked its way over your innocent face, eyes fluttering.

“Baby, please.”

Was he begging? Or were your knees buckling from the fatigue? Whatever. Keep focus, y/n.

“I warned you, Koo.” you winked, brushing your lips over his before a knock on the door interrupted the little moment.

“Room service!” a man’s voice echoed from the corridor.

I guess the sight of Jungkook’s sculpted chest completely hazed your mind as you struggled to recover even the slightest recollection of ordering food.

“Coming!” you yelled out, planting a kiss on the tip of his nose until his hold on your waist tightened.

“No, stay.” he murmured, voice laced with desperation.

“I have to open the door, Jeon, that's kind of how it works.”

“I like you here.” he grinned, tugging on your bottom lip before leaving a soft spank on your ass. And, as you glanced back at his heaving chest you feared that rule number one was going to be short-lived.

“Do you like it? They didn’t have Carbonara but I thought shrimp fettuccine would have sufficed,” you said with slight hesitation which shortly dissipated as you watched him empty the dish clean.

“Trust me, y/n. You being here has already made me a happy man. Everything else is just a cherry on top.” Jungkook smiled, rubbing his tattooed hand along his jaw before reaching for the last plate cover.

“Honestly, I wanted to thank y-,” your words were interrupted by his sudden whine.

“No dessert?” his brow arched slightly.

“Oh. Shoot, sorry. I … I didn’t think you’d want any.” your words came out as a stutter, eyes frantically searching for the phone.

“Mhmm, but I would kill for some cheesecake.” he sighed with a pout, loosening the buttons on his shirt.

Changing out of the cotton fabric that covered his cucumber-scented body roughly five minutes ago, Jungkook decided to parade the same pyjama set as you. And, now that the two of you were matching, it was clear what your mom’s mission was all along.

“Yeah, okay, let me just call them b-”

“No need.”

“Huh? So, you don’t want dessert?”

“I do.” he teased, keeping his voice low and calm.

“Okay, let’s cut back on the riddles, Jeon. Do I call or not?”

But, there was no answer. Instead, he simply excused himself from the table before walking towards the red couch, patting the seat next to him.

“Come here, y/n.” his voice lowered to a rumble, darkened orbs filled with nothing but lust.

“Why?”

“If I can’t touch you let me at least taste you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Hands fidgeting with the rings on your fingers.

“I beg your finest pardon?” you scoffed from pure disbelief, folding your arms over your chest.

“Baby, you have at max three seconds to walk your fine self over here before I grab you myself.”

“Was that a threat?” you glared at his sly expression, hooded gaze colliding with yours.

“One …” his tone demanded a response.

But, you didn’t move. Not even an inch. Aggravating the tension.

“Two …”

Who does he think he is? Grab you myself. Claw machine sounding ass.

“Three …”

You chuckled, giving him the nastiest eye roll before your muscles tensed up, seeing his 5’8 gym rat physique actually get up.

“Okay! Alright! I’m coming.” you blurted in sheer panic, fixing your bottoms before doing the walk of shame toward his pleased self.

Reaching out his hand, you pushed it away, reminding him of the deal.

“Right here, love.” Jungkook grinned, marking his chest as a target for your landing.

What a tease.

“You know what, Koo. Fine. If you want to play games, let’s play a game.” you hissed with a wink, stripping out of the silk fabric before dropping it on his lap.

“Fucking hell.” a growl escaped his parted lips as his eyes raked over your glistening skin, admiring every inch, every crevice of your body.

He was needy, but you were too busy rummaging through the mini-fridge to notice how desperately he longed for your attention.

“Perfect!” you exclaimed, shaking a bottle of whipped cream before straddling his lap once again. Except this time, in your black lingerie. One that was initially reserved for Jaewon’s eyes only until he decided to fuck you over. Now, the privilege was all Jungkook’s.

“Y/n.” he breathed out heavily, creased forehead resting on yours.

And, as you pressed your thumb against his chin, your index finger slid along his bottom lip, feeling his tongue lick the cream off your skin.

“Just like that, baby.” you gave him a tiny nod of reassurance, glancing up at his doe-eyed gaze.

Fuck, submissiveness never looked this good.

“Y/n, please.” he whimpered, hands hovering over your skin before you finally gave in, intertwining your fingers with his.

Unclasping your bra, you let his veiny hands rest on your perky breasts, decorating your hardened nipples with his special treat.

“Taste me,” you purred, tugging on his bottom lip as his mouth opened in a half-moan.

He was wasted. Big time.

“You sure?” he had to double-check, searching your lustful gaze for approval.

“I am. Enjoy your dessert, Jeon.” the words simply rolled off your tongue, like you’ve been meaning to say them all along. And, as you ran your fingers through his messy hair, slightly tugging on the ends, the built-up need within you slowly inched up, begging for his touch.

Cupping your breasts in his burning palms, he peppered your skin with sloppy kisses, teeth grazing against the pinks of your sensitive nipples before biting down on the flesh.

“Fuck” you hissed with your head jerked back.

Sucking off the creamy delight that painted your swollen tits, his pierced tongue licked its way up to your parted mouth, marking your neck with purple hues of possession.

“Koo,” you rasped against his ear, shamelessly rocking your hips back and forth as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten.

“I know, baby.” he muttered, gently lifting your frail body before pinning it against the armrest of the red couch.

Giving a little shake to the whipping cream that dropped from your hands, Jungkook levelled his face to yours, drawing a line down your stomach. And, as he watched you arch your back from the cold sensation, a spark of temptation danced in his darkened eyes, cheeks flushed from the sinful whimpers that escaped your parted lips until the warmth of his tongue eased the pain.

Moving down the center line, his fingertips traced your ribs, a faint outline of which poked with each breath you took. In and out, your diaphragm was working overtime, trying to keep up with the suffocating demand. One that only fueled Jungkook’s cravings, as he tugged onto the black lace of your lingerie.

“Compliments to the chef,” he whispered teasingly, gaze softening at the arousal that had your panties all drenched.

“Jeon, stop staring, this is so embarrassing.” you whined, voice muffled by the pillow that covered your rosy cheeks as you desperately attempted to close your legs and simply vanish.

“It’s not my fault someone forgot to order dessert.” he grinned, pulling you closer as his hold on your thighs tightened, before hooking your ankles over his bare shoulders. “Now, please. Let a man eat.”

Admiring your sleeping features, Jungkook cuddled into your chest, planting soft kisses on your marked neck before dozing off inside your arms until the buzzing of your phone startled him right out of REM.

No Caller ID

“Y/n?” a man’s hesitant voice echoed in his ear.

“She’s sleeping.” Jungkook muttered, gently stroking your knuckles with his thumb.

“Who is this? Jungkook, is that you?” Jaewon exclaimed, evidently more on edge than before.

“What do you want?”

“Can I talk to, y/n?”

“As I just said, she’s sleeping.” Jungkook’s tone was low, aggravated by the need to repeat himself.

“Well, can you wake her up?”

“She seemed quite worn out after the fifth round, so I probably shouldn’t.” a grin curled his lips as you rested your head on his heaving chest, completely naive to the unfolded event.

“What?”

“Lose the number, Jaewon.” Jungkook gritted through his teeth, ending the call before tossing your phone on the edge of the bed.

Feeling the warmth of the sun rays peeking through the silk curtains, you stretched your sore body, patting the mattress next to you before noticing Jungkook’s absence.

“Mmhm?” you pouted, reaching for your phone to check the time.

There’s no way you slept through breakfast and he didn’t wake you. Based on your history of ‘hangryness’ and emotional breakdowns that followed suit he should know better.

7:45 am

“Jungkook?” you called out, covering yourself with the sheer nightgown before knocking on the bathroom door, waiting for a response.

Nothing.

“Jeon?” you called again, this time scanning the living room. Everything looked frozen in time, left untouched from the night before — the empty bottle of wine and the stained glass marked with your red lipstick. But still, no trace of Jungkook.

Going back into the bedroom, you quickly brushed your teeth and changed into a baby blue sundress, opening up the blinds to let in the natural light.

“Shit!” you yelped, widened eyes staring at Jungkook’s sculpted back.

Sliding the door just enough to pass by, you felt the goosebumps spread across your body as the morning breeze danced around your bare skin.

“Oh, I thought you quit.” you gasped, brows knitted with confusion as you looked over his broad shoulders, the smell of cigarettes lingering between you two.

“Yeah, well, I thought you cut ties with Jaewon. So … I guess we’re both disappointed.” Jungkook exhaled sharply, turning his head halfway to take in another puff.

Something was off, he seemed distant, cold to the touch.

“What? What are you talking about?” you asked, hands fidgeting with the straps of your dress.

“He called last night.”

“Why? Is he okay?”

And, that’s when he erupted. Back pressed against the railing, his body turned to face your timid form, before muttering, “Do you care?”

“Well, no? But … if we stopped talking and you suddenly called I would want to know why,” you hesitated with the explanation, analyzing the way his forehead creased with each word.

“Mmhm, except I never treated you like a scrumbag, did I?” Jungkook swallowed, rubbing his tattooed hand along his flexed jaw.

“True, but you never pursued me either.” you snapped back, arms crossed over your burning chest.

“This is a prank, isn’t it?” he scoffed maniacally, eyes twitching from disbelief.

“I’m dead serious, Jeon. Why did you keep your distance if you wanted me so badly?”

He didn’t answer. Letting the two of you stare at each other for a split second, before finally taking a step forward, following your pace as your back hit the glass door. Leaning his hands on either side of your head, his broad shoulders hovered over you.

If this was his attempt at scaring you or somehow making you feel beneath him, it was not working. Because, as his face levelled with yours, your gaze furrowed, never breaking eye contact. Standing firm on what you said.

“Y/n, I kept my distance because I wanted you so bad.”

“Kind of dumb, don’t you think?” you pouted with a slight head tilt.

By now, Jungkook was ready to combust. The adrenaline running through his veins prepared to set off his fight or flight response at any given moment.

“Okay. Fine. How about I pursue myself into your ass, hmm?” he growled, tone demanding a response.

“I'd looove to see you try.” you teased, eyes fluttering with innocence.

“On the bed.”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed, tongue poking the side of your cheek.

“You heard me. Chop chop, baby girl.” Jungkook rasped against your ear, nibbling on the soft skin as a final warning.

To be honest you really didn’t know what you were getting yourself into until his fingers ran down your spine, hands tightening their hold on your hips as his growing boner pressed against the arch of your ass.

Fuck, he was serious.

“From now on, I’ll be so close you’d have to scrub my scent off you,” he sneered, gently sliding his two digits over your folds, fingertips coated with your wetness as you remained on all fours.

“Koo,” you whimpered, tugging on your bottom lip.

Parting your throbbing cunt, his pierced tongue licked your clit, thumb rubbing it in small circles before your moans grew louder. More desperate. More needy. Hazy mind unable to fathom the calmness you radiated just a few minutes ago.

“Hold on.” he whispered, reaching for his wallet to grab a strip of condoms before ripping one open with his gritted teeth.

“Tell me if this is dumb enough for you.” Jungkook teased, mouth sliding along your tensed jaw as he rubbed his erection against your clit, resisting the urge to fill you up right then and there.

It was clear that your words irked him but he had to remain calm enough to not hurt you, forcing his annoyance to cool off with a verbal mock.

And, as he slowly pushed himself in, whimpers escaped your parted lips, hands gathering up the white sheets into knots, feeling his cock stretch its way in against the warmth of your walls. Cautious of his pace, he needed you to adjust, pulling in and out until there was enough lubrication for the growing friction to feel good, painless.

“Koo,” you whined again, gasping for air as his lips left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your back.

“Just like that, baby. You’re doing so good.” Jungkook reassured, softening his hooded gaze upon hearing your sweet sounds. The ones that poisoned his thoughts and invaded his dreams all those countless nights.

Clenching your clit on his throbbing length, his vision grew in and out of focus, hissing at the tingling sensation.

“Fuuuck, y/n.” he moaned, fingers digging into your ass, before jerking his head back.

Picking up his pace, Jungkook went faster and harder. Slamming himself into you, until his twitching tip touched the surface of your cervix, making your toes curl in ecstasy, as a trail of juices ran down your trembling thighs.

“Jeon, I'm gonna faint.” you cried out, feeling your throat tighten, lungs stripped away from air.

“Just a little longer, baby.” he muttered, chest heaving up from exhaustion.

He was close. Very close. So, as your walls clenched around him for the sixth time, he could have sworn his dick melted. Became part of your anatomy, no longer attached to his person. Surrendered with a white flag.

“Y/n, look at me.” he urged breathlessly, snapping the rubber off his sensitive dick before giving it a few more pumps, squirting his cum onto your displayed tongue, completely exasperating in the process.

“So,” you swallowed obediently, “now that you've pursued my ass you'll quit smoking, right?” your doe-eyed gaze glanced up at his darkened orbs that watched you lick the dripping cum off his tip as you sat on your knees. Aware of his response, you brushed your lips against his, inviting his tongue inside before his burning body collided with yours, smiling into the deep kiss.

“Well, technically, I didn't go near your ass. Not many girls like that.” Jungkook teased, tucking a few curls behind your ear.

“Many girls, huh? How many?” you murmured, tracing the tattoos on his arm as your bodies laid skin to skin, staring at the white ceiling.

“About five.” he answered, a bit too quickly for your liking.

“Five? You man whore.” you scoffed with disgust, quickly retracting your hand from his.

“Sometimes six, depending on which video loads first.” his nose scrunched in a tiny giggle once he saw your mouth drop, expression left dumbfounded as the dots in your head began to connect.

So, that's what kept him busy all this time. Porn? Phenomenal.

“Next time, I'll just stay curious.” you sighed, half disappointed yet, also relieved. He might’ve just lied straight to your face but sometimes, it's better to simply pick your battles, choosing to live in blissful ignorance than the chaos of reality. Whatever his reality entails.

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x yn #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook romance

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nadvs · 7 days ago

Text

the act of unravelling (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

< prev

Rafe stands and looks down at the body, his fists clenched tightly. Reality is setting in now. He could go to prison. His future could be ruined.

He’s perpetually at the mercy of his impulsivity, thinking only of the minute he’s living in, burdened with the consequences later. But still, even with his head a little clearer, he doesn’t regret this.

Ripping away the life of a man who wronged him was a thrill. He spends every day feeling like he’s losing and the power he had in his hands tonight felt so fucking good. He won for once.

You feel heavy as you push yourself up off the floor. You wish you could curl up in your bathtub under hot, gushing water, washing away everything that happened tonight.

The corpse is harder to look at with every second that passes. You glance up at Rafe, blood splattered on his face as he stares down at what he’d done, at what you’d done, chillingly unfazed.

“We can’t leave anything that’ll point back to me,” he mumbles, his voice low over the fireworks still crackling outside.

“Or me,” you have to remind him tensely.

His eyes land on yours. He’s always only looking out for himself. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have to worry about someone else.

“I’m serious,” you urge. Your survival instinct rushes through you for the second time tonight. You refuse to let Rafe throw you to the wolves. “I saved your life. You owe me. I won’t take the fall for this.”

“Well, neither will I,” he snaps.

“You shot him.”

“I could say you did,” Rafe replies. “And it’d be your word against mine. What then?”

You scoff, in disbelief of his selfishness.

“I saved your life,” you repeat. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

Rafe swallows hard. He’s not sure many people would do what you did for him tonight. They’d watch. They’d let him die. The possibility that you might feel something for him makes his chest twist with an unfamiliar warmth.

“We’ll look out for each other, alright?” he relents, letting his guard down for a moment. “Let’s just clean this up.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket again. You pull it out, seeing Pope’s name. Twelve missed calls.

You hope your friends don’t get so worried that they come up here, ignoring the Off Limits sign Porter had put up across the stairs. But they don’t know where you went. You’re almost certain.

“My friends keep calling me,” you whisper.

Rafe’s jaw tightens. His friends aren’t worrying about him.

“You can’t answer them,” he snaps.

“I know.” You let out a shaky sigh, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “We have to be fast. What do we do? Do we bury him?”

Rafe takes a beat to think.

“We dump him in the ocean,” he finally says. “We go to the marina and drive my boat out far enough where nobody will find him.”

“How do we move him so nobody sees? We can’t go through the house. We might run into someone.”

Rafe looks to the glass door on the other end of the room, the balcony offering a view of the inky night sky.

“There,” he says. “We’ll push him off and put him in the back of my truck.”

You consider it. Of the limited options you have, it seems like the only one worth trying.

“Okay. We have to clean the blood off the floor,” you say. “And everything we touch needs to be wiped. Maybe there’s something with bleach in it around here?”

For the first time since you entered this room, you feel hope. There’s a chance, a real chance, you could get away with this. You look back at the desk Rafe ransacked.

“Pick that stuff up,” you say. Frustration rolls through him. He never liked being bossed around. “I’ll try to find something to clean with.”

“Don’t let anyone see you,” Rafe mutters.

“How stupid do you think I am?” you huff before you turn towards the door.

You tiptoe through the second story, peeking into a bathroom cupboard. When you find a spray bottle that reads Cleaner and Bleach on the packaging, you grab it and head back to the room.

You and Rafe move quickly and quietly, using clothes you found in the closet to wipe everything with bleach. After a loud, consonant cracking of fireworks that you assume is the grand finale, the show ends. And you know people are on their way back to the house.

The neighbor’s private beach can’t be that far away. You have a minute. Maybe two.

You’re glad Rafe thinks to find the shell of the bullet. He puts it in his pocket. You spray the bleach over the floor again, cleaning every drop of blood you can see.

“Tuck this stuff under his shirt,” you say breathlessly, handing Rafe the bottle and the blood-soaked clothes.

You can’t do it. You know you’ll need to touch him when you move him, but you’d rather limit the contact you have with his body. Even dead, when he can’t hurt you, touching him is terrifying.

You pick the gun up off the floor, then open the balcony, relieved you can’t hear any voices yet. You peer over the edge to see the sandy ground. The balcony overlooks the side of the house, dark and secluded.

Rafe grunts as he drags the corpse out onto the balcony. You have to muster up every bit of strength you have as you help heave Porter’s body over the railing. He falls with a hard thud, facedown in the sand.

You have to jump the balcony. You can’t risk going downstairs. Rafe is wide-eyed as you hitch your leg over the railing, looking down with shaky breaths.

“Wait,” he whispers. “Let me go first. If you break something, we’re fucked.”

He shifts down as low as he can before letting his feet hang over the edge. He lets go, dropping hard, his ankles pinching with pain from the impact.

“Okay,” he says. “Go.”

You feel a splinter dig into your palm as you clutch onto the wooden railing with one hand while the other holds the gun. You make the split-second decision to keep the balcony door open to air out the smell of bleach.

You hope you cleaned away every drop of blood in the room. There’s no going back to it now.

You sink, hanging as low as you can, looking over your shoulder before you drop. Rafe’s arms wrap around you as your feet hit the ground, his chest hard against your back, breaking your fall.

“If someone comes,” he whispers in your ear, “run.”

Waiting for him to get his truck is torture. The humid night air presses against your face and you can’t bear to look down at the body on the ground.

Rafe returns and you move quickly, straining as you carry the body over the uneven terrain, the soles of your shoes slipping on the sand.

Once the body is in the trunk and Rafe unfolds the cover, blanketing the cab and concealing the evidence, you feel a shred less frightened.

You glance back into the darkness just in case. A glow of a phone screen is in the sand. Rafe is already behind the wheel, demanding that you get in, his voice carrying through the open rear window.

You feel for your phone. It’s still in your pocket.

“Do you have your phone?” you whisper.

He responds after a moment, “Yes. Get in.”

“I think his phone fell on the ground when we were carrying him,” you say. “We should–”

Faint laughs in the distance interrupt you. There’s no time to run back and get the phone without being seen.

“Get the hell in,” Rafe mutters angrily.

You obey, swinging open the door, barely closing it in time as Rafe peels away. Your muscles prick from the weight you’d just carried as you drive past the partygoers coming back from watching fireworks.

“Holy shit,” Rafe chuckles, near elated. “We did it.”

You stare ahead, your head foggy.

This will haunt you for the rest of your life. The thought forces a torrent of dread through you worse than you’ve ever felt before.

What if you’d run out of the room when Rafe and Porter came in? What if you’d left Rafe to deal with the body on his own?

What if you’d never gone upstairs?

You’re destined to agonize over the what if’s of tonight forever.

You gaze down at the gun in your lap and hold your hands out in front of you, skin stinging from the bleach. You’d wiped away the blood, but you think you’ll always see it on your hands.

You figure out that it’s a good thing you left Porter’s phone. If he was sharing his location, you’re sure the police could track where it was last before you threw it into the sea with him. They’d know exactly where to look for his body.

“We should shut off our phones,” you realize. “I think they can track GPS history from cell towers.”

Rafe digs into his pocket, glancing down to watch the screen go black.

“How’d you think of that?” he mumbles with a laugh. “Is this not your first time doing this, Pogue?”

“Nothing about this is funny,” you reply.

“Relax,” he says. “We got away with it.”

“You can’t be so sure,” you say. “One fingerprint in that room and…”

You can’t think about it.

In the paroxysm of emotions you’re already feeling, guilt digs a hole into your stomach when you see Pope’s most recent text before you power off your phone.

Answer the phone. We’re worried.

·········

The clock on Rafe’s dashboard reads 10:44 when you reach the marina. He parks right by the main dock. The place seems quiet, the water crowded with seemingly unoccupied boats.

“I’ll take a walk around to make sure we’re alone,” he says, pulling his key out of the ignition.

The car door slams shut and you’re left with a gun in your lap, a body in the trunk, and your tormenting thoughts.

Maybe you missed something back in that room.

You picture Porter’s phone lighting up in the sand. His last text to you said to come upstairs. When the cops inevitably start searching for answers, you’ll be questioned.

A minute later, Rafe swings open your door, pulling you out of your daze. You meet his glare, his hair tousled and sweaty.

“We’re good,” he says. “Move.”

Having to haul the body over the dock past darkened, quiet boats is unnerving. Ater you leave it at the back of Rafe’s boat, you stand behind him at the helm.

Your arms are crossed and the gun is tucked by your elbow, because if you learned anything tonight, it’s that you can’t trust anyone.

Rafe’s still a man. A man who takes what he wants when he wants it. A man who killed someone because he didn’t obey him. He could hurt you if he wanted to. It’s best not to be alone with him.

“I should wait in the car,” you mumble. Rafe shakes his head in frustration, driving the boat forward. The boat’s motor hums as you rock with its movements.

“No,” he mutters condescendingly. It reminds you of why underneath the stubborn pull you’ve always felt towards him, you’ve also harbored a quiet fear. Rafe is violent. Possibly enough to hurt you the same way Porter did.

You feel for the gun again. If two men have to die tonight, so be it. The fact that your mind went there chills you.

Rafe looks over at you, lips twisting in annoyance.

“Don’t feel bad for that asshole,” he mutters. “He asked for it.”

It’s the worst possible thing he could’ve said. Your throat is raw with the threat of tears. Asked for it. Would he say the same about what happened to you?

“I don’t regret it,” you tell him, sure that he’s assuming that that’s why you’re so tense. “I’m just worried we missed something.”

“If we did, nothin’ we can do about it now,” he says. You look ahead at the dark sea, moonlight shining over the water’s ripples.

“We need to figure our story out,” you say. “How’d you end up upstairs? Did anyone see you?”

“I stopped him while everyone was going outside to watch the show,” he recalls. “Told him to show me where he was keeping his coke because I heard he was selling again. It was loud. I don’t think anyone heard, but maybe someone saw. I don’t know.”

“Why do you sell?” you ask, face pinched in confusion. “Why did you even care that he was selling, too? You don't have enough money already?”

“I gotta keep your tips coming, don’t I?” he says smugly. You scoff, jarred by his blasé attitude, despising his cold arrogance.

He notices the angry scowl on your face. He’s convinced he’ll never break through the hatred you have for him.

“I want to make my own money. That’s why,” he admits. It’s half the truth, but it’s good enough.

It’s surprising to hear that Rafe, a man you thought coasted on the wealth he was born into, possesses a work ethic. Even though he uses it to deal drugs.

“Did anyone see you go upstairs?” he asks.

“I don’t think so,” you say.

“Why were you there?”

You chew on your lip, the truth sitting on your chest like a ton of bricks. There’s no point in telling him. He thinks your motive was the same as his. Money. And you’ll let him believe it.

Besides, talking about it now, merely an hour afterwards, will only make you cry again and your head is pounding from how much you’ve already wept tonight. How could you possibly say it out loud?

“To buy pot. Then I smoked too much and passed out.” You keep talking before he can ask anything else. “Are we far out enough?”

Rafe looks back to make sure the marina is out of sight before he kills the engine.

Pushing Porter’s body over the guardrail is harder than the other times you’d carried him tonight. The water is rocking the boat so much now that you’re far into the ocean. Your breath is strained as you heave him over the metal, his body hitting the water with a loud splash under the bright moon.

Rafe pulls out the bullet shell in his pocket and tosses it in the water. You know you have to throw the gun in, too. It’s hard to. But you do it.

Rafe looks over the edge now that everything is sinking to the bottom, his forearm brushing against yours. He notices how quickly you jerk away, refusing to let him touch you. The pull he feels towards you is obviously one-sided. Your eyes flit away when you look at him.

“You have blood on your face,” you tell him soberly. His temper flares, feeling stupid for thinking a girl could feel anything but afraid of him after he shot someone right in front of her. Even though she was the one who told him to do it.

You might have a deadly thirst for revenge in common, but that’s where the similarities end. He stalks past you to wash himself off in the bathroom below the deck.

You let out a shaky breath. The unexpected contact with Rafe startled you. After tonight, you’re sure you’ll always be scared to be around men you don’t know all that well. Even the ones that seem decent are just lions in sheep’s clothing. The monster that proved that to you is below the ocean’s surface now.

You look into the murky water, and despite the fear and the anxiety and dread weighing on your heart, you’re glad that this is how it ended. Porter paid the ultimate price for what he did to you. He doesn’t deserve to live, to smile, to feel anything ever again.

·········

You and Rafe sit behind the hull, the boat swaying with the tide. You start to piece together an alibi and decide to admit you were upstairs together. If even one person says they saw either one of you go up there, you won’t be caught in a lie.

As you talk, Rafe can’t take his eyes off of you. You’re clearly scared, but trying to stay level-headed. He doesn’t get how you do it. He’s always been bad at keeping his mind steady. He never had a reason to even try.

“So, I went up first after he texted me to come buy from him,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. “I got high and passed out. Then you came up with him to find his stash. We’re obviously going to have to come clean about the drugs.”

“What do you mean obviously?”

“You’re going to be a suspect the second the police start talking to people,” you tell him. “Everyone knows you had an issue with him. And why. You can’t lie about the coke. And they’ll have evidence that I was buying weed from him. We have to be honest about it. They’ll find out anyway.”

Rafe sighs, knowing you’re right.

You hug yourself as a cool breeze carries over the water. The weakness in your gaze reminds Rafe of the way you’d cried on the floor earlier tonight. Before all this, he only ever saw you as strong-willed and sharp-tongued.

Even though calming a man like Rafe down when he’s angry sounds like it’d be impossible, you figure it’s the only direction your alibi can go.

“We’ll say I talked you down and…” You shake your head. “It doesn’t make sense that we’d stay up there. I think we say we left him in his room and sat on the beach alone in front of the house to watch the fireworks from there.”

You worry it’s not enough. You’re certain that no one who knows either one of you would buy that you voluntarily spent time together.

“Maybe the cops would believe we hung out,” you mumble, “but nobody else would.”

Rafe stills. His friends like to give him crap about how much time he spends talking to you when he supposedly hates Pogues. If he told them he was with you all night, they’d say they saw it coming.

“They could,” he says after a few seconds of silence.

“My friends would never believe it,” you scoff. He purses his lips, pissed off at your tone, at the clear implication that you talk shit about him with your friends.

“It’s our only option,” he mutters sharply.

“You’re right,” you give in. “Then what? We went home before people got back? I guess that way if anyone saw us leave together, we have it covered.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “That’s the story.”

“Okay. It’s not great, but it’s the best we can do.” You check your phone for the time, only to remember it’s turned off. “Can you drive me home now? I’ll say my phone died. You should do the same when people ask where you’ve been.”

Rafe doesn’t admit to you that nobody was checking up on him, that nobody ever does. He only stands up to drive back to the dock.

·········

Your first priority when you get home is to text your friends, guilt consuming you now that it’s been over two hours since you last saw them and they have no idea what happened to you.

You turn on your phone to see a string of missed calls and texts from the guys. You open the group-chat and type: I’m so sorry. I’m okay. Got too high and lost track of time. Home now.

They video call you to be sure that you really made it home safe, drunkenly rambling on about how they assumed you went to see the fireworks early, leaving them to search the neighbor’s beach for you.

As you listen to them talk over each other on the phone, it’s the first time you see your reflection since you left the house, when you were oblivious to the fact that the impending hours would change you forever.

You can see it in your eyes that you’re not the same. You can only hope that they don’t catch on.

·········

It’s been three days. You haven’t been sleeping. You’ve hardly been eating. And no matter how many times you tell yourself there’s no use in thinking about how different the night could have turned out, it doesn’t stop your head from spinning into hypotheticals.

All you told your friends was that you were with a boy and that they didn’t need to know any more. Because they all see you as a sister, they were happy to be spared the details.

If only they knew. A few nights ago, you promised them you wouldn’t talk about Rafe ever again. You never would’ve thought the reason would be because you’d committed a crime together.

You’re back at work. Smiling and chatting and serving drinks and acting like everything is fine is harder than you expected.

The thought of seeing Rafe again is oddly comforting. No matter how twisted it is, you have a bond now, held together by secrecy and shared trauma. He’s the closest to knowing what you’re going through.

Even though you were afraid of him on the boat, when he dropped you off, he waited until you got into the house before he drove off. Maybe he sees you as someone he needs to protect, even if it is for his own selfish reasons.

No matter how unhinged he is, having someone like him in your corner is comforting after what you’d suffered through.

You spot Rafe sitting alone at the near empty club bar on your way out and your heart settles, but when you catch a glimpse of the flatscreen mounted on the wall a moment later, it drops. You knew it was inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any better.

Rafe swallows bitter whiskey, gazing up at the tv. Under a photo of Porter reads MISSING as his parents speak to the press. What if he went missing? Who’d care? What would his dad say – at least it wasn’t Sarah?

He looks down at the bartop. The thrill of what he did has faded. It’s not a surprise. His life is nothing but a cycle of short-lived highs.

When he sees the look on Porter’s parents’ faces on the tv, jealousy and loneliness screw a hole into his heart. He knows it’s fucked up to envy the man he killed. He doesn’t care.

His eyes drift over the bar to see you standing on the other end. You’re in shock as you stare up at the broadcast, looking guilty as hell. He glares at you until you finally meet his eyes.

Rafe curtly gestures to you to sit next to him. Even though he looks mad, you’re relieved to close the distance between you.

“You’re being obvious,” he says quietly once you sit next to him, an edge to his tone.

You look back to see only a few other people sitting in the restaurant area behind you, far from earshot. You won’t be heard, but you both know you have to speak vaguely just in case.

“Someone I know is missing,” you reply. “It’s normal to be worried about that.”

“What do you know about normal?” he scoffs.

You lock eyes, sure that you’re both replaying the night in your minds, sure that you’re both far from sane after what you did. His gaze is cold, a reflection of how angry he is that you’re not handling what happened as well as he is.

“Great talking to you,” you snip sarcastically, shifting to stand up.

“Wait,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks at you again, this time with a bit of the hardness in his eyes gone. “We need to talk.”

next >

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#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron fic

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ladybyakuya · 3 months ago

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| BE SWEET TO ME. + soshiro hoshina, gen narumi, reno ichikawa, izumo haruichi.

+cw. — f!reader,explicit smut, canon typical elements, established relationship, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, s&m themes, s&d dynamics, oral acts. +syn.— sometimes missions take days, even months but when they return home to find you in a very awkward position; you never knew that being caught while touching yourself could be so exciting. +wc. — 2k

+notes. — i became a lil bit selfish and pushed my hubby!hoshina agenda. | redirect to blog navigation.

• soshiro hoshina.

The shared bedroom of you and your husband is now filled with yearning, stifled moans, and cries seeking his presence. It has been a month. A month without your freshly wedded husband, a month without his touch, a month without . . .

The house is mostly empty with both the brothers being at work. The ground floor is as usual bustling with servants and staff that work specifically for the clan but in this wing, on the second floor where you and your beloved husband reside, there is nothing but you, your yearning, and loneliness. One of your arms travels down in between your legs. It is almost instinctive, curious even. The hand that you hold against your face after it has just grazed your entrance is glistening with proof of your yearning for him.

At the very next moment, your hand slips under your kimono again your middle finger finding its way inside you. You could feel yourself clench around your finger but as you slowly start to move your fingers, in and out, your folded legs start to pull away from each other. You lean back against the heap of pillows stroking your finger in and out. Head now arching backward while your finger movements have changed, trying to find the pinnacle of this insanity whilst moving up and down, to and fro, each stroke slightly stronger than before yet you can not seem to place a finger on it, like hoshina did on wedding night.

Click! Your body jolts, sitting up straight, legs rested one over the other toes almost touching your butt as your thighs aligned as you sat sprawled beautifully like the arch of the neck of a Swan. It is a good thing that you are wearing a house kimono, so easy to carry, so swift to hide the lewdity. My God! Oh, how Hoshina has missed his beautiful wife!

Still, he acts curtly.

“C’mon, why did you stop?” Hoshina walks towards the bed and sits at the edge of the bed. His body facing away from you yet his head is turned towards you. You could not speak. You could not think. You might have been holding your breath. Yes, you must. For how long has he been standing there? Since the moment you closed your eyes or . . .Hoshina extends his hand to cup your face. His touch is rough, and full of strength on your skin. As he squeezes your cheek a little bit while running his thumb over your slightly parted lips, you curl like a cat under his touch. “You’re here. I — I was just surprised,” you whisper.

“Go ahead. Finish what you started,” You suck in a breath upon hearing his demand. It is not like he has not seen you. But touching yourself while he is still here, getting yourself off while he is all ignored . . .is not right by him nor is in accord with the duties of a wife. But Hoshina happens to think otherwise. Seeing you like this, like a flower in blossom, unaware of what to do he could not help but grab the wrist of your arm that was underneath your robe a few minutes ago. He licks your slick-soaked fingers clean off whispering, “C’mon make those wet again!”

• gen narumi.

“Why did you stop?” Narumi interjects as all your senses and movements come to a halt for moment. His lips are practically thread away from your mouth. There is a visible tent in his underpants yet he refuses to pay attention to it. He would rather focus all his attention on you, who is currently sitting on his thigh without any underwear but the short tee is still intact. Narumi could see how aroused you are. Your nipples are prominent even through the cloth. You have been practically humping his thigh since he walked into the room. How dare you? How dare you use a dildo in his absence while he has been holding himself back, keeps playing games so that he just does not end up giving in to the urge of jacking off in the toilet late at midnight, especially after stressful meetings. That thing? That cylindrical thing— he takes that an insult to him on his manhood.

“Weren’t you humping the plushie I gave you?” You were desperate. He was gone for a whole month, leaving you all alone with your yearning and that damn plushie that reminded you of him everytime you hugged it or barely glanced at it.

Gen goads into you further. .. .his head arching, eyes landing on your nape as he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue thinking of, yeah, just thinking of kissing you, marking you. “Narumi please.” you plead hands being clammy due to being held by him at the back of your waist while his other arm rests on his thigh. He grabs the dildo that he kept it on the side table and turns it on. It starts to vibrate in the air and the buzzing sound is nothing but a sound of shame for you now. “How many times . . .” Narumi takes it closer to your entrance and he can feel your skin flexing upon his thighs. “Just how many times did you use it?”

You can not answer that. Not that he would be angry or disappointed if he knew the number but its just that it was his fault that you are here in the first place, so close to your orgasm yet feels like a foreign dream. You just wanna cum while Narumi refuses to give you that until you answer. The only touch between him and you is his show case of strength on you while you drag your lower body up and down his thighs.

“When you send a selfie.”

Narumi’s hands drop like a withered petal of an old flower that is way past from its bloom. The dildo hits the ground and its still vibrating. Yeah, probably you could have answered that question better it seems.

“I was barely naked.” He said with such a flat face as if that skin tight suit with mask on, droopy eyes with such a morning face would not turn you on.

“Oh! Shut up,” You finally snap breaking free from his garb and before he could counterattack your lips were already on his, no resistance, no fighting for dominance just wanting.

• reno ichikawa

There was no funny business for Reno when it came to you. He has informed you earlier that he would be home today so that your heart and body fills with hope and want before he decides to take claim of both But when he saw you through the slit of the door it made him a little dizzy. The drawing room was dark and the light coming from your room was the only source of light. He would have stumbled upon the plant pot if he had not been so habituated with coming home to you after every mission. He takes slow but eager steps to see if the sounds that are coming from your room is really what he thinks it is. Ren stands against the shadow of the door for a while letting the fact sink in that you actually gave in, that you actually listened to him.

Reno did not think you would. He did not think you would be ready to listen to him without him nagging for it till you give in. It has always been like this so why would he expect anything different this time? But maybe being away from home, for whole thirty days and that too due to mission sure affected you in ways that went far and beyond his imagination. Sure, he thought you would miss him, call him late at nights despite your share of workload, even send pictures maybe nudes sometimes but he never thought you would be busy in your room preparing yourself for him. He suggested the idea just an arrow in the forest but he had no idea it would reach you yet it did.

It did reach you and now you are on bed trying to suppress your moans by cupping your mouth and legs apart from each other as you push and pull the dildo he parceled while he was away. Seeing you like this, so eager and ready for him has already spiked his heart rate ten times than his normal heartbeat. He opens the door and your lust-filled gaze, glazing sweaty skin is now only for him to soak in.

“Reno—” you moan his name in between working the dildo into your pussy. “What are you waiting for?” Those unrefined movements of your hand, the posture, and the lingering tears in your eyes suggest nothing but the fact that you are new to this.

“Did I make you too long?” He asks letting his bag hit the floor with a thud and getting on to the edge of the bed. You barely give him a nod with a ‘hmmm’ and the next thing you feel is his lips on yours, soothing the wait, rewarding the ‘good girl’ in you while pulling out the dildo out of your pussy. Your muscles flex around the air as Reno deepens his kiss. He then straightens up, undresses himself, and throws the shirt somewhere on the floor before getting on his knees to hook his arms on your inner thighs. He laps his tongue against your pussy once and peers at you and since you don’t say anything he puts his lips to work this time.

• izumo haruichi

Izumo thought he would surprise you with his return but his plan had a boomerang effect on him instead. Indeed, you were never the one to be fond of surprises to being with so it already seemed like a gamble to him. But just when he was about to enter the shared bedroom, he heard you: moaning and whispering. He would not mistake your voice even though it has been a month since he properly heard you, heard you like this, calling out his name voice laced with lust.

The way you are moaning he could imagine in which position you are touching yourself, even how close you are. He hesitated to ruin that approaching high, after all he hates it when you do it with him.

Now, he is standing outside the room leaning against the wall while you are inside the room. The presence of wall has never been excruciatingly painful before. The door of the room is slightly parted giving him enough access to hear your voice as he zips down to take his member and relieve himself from the pain while you are drowning in pleasuring yourself.

“Fuck,” Izumo hisses under his breath as he clamps his fingers around his cock, his thumb lightly tapping on the tip of his cock. His pleasure stems out in strings, sticking onto his hands. A month full of missions, thirty days without touching himself, saving himself for you so that when he returns home to you he is all you can have, he is all you could imbibe. Of course, there were times when he was tempted to touch himself and it was always in thought of you. But he did not rather he wanted to save himself for you. It is always about you, always has been but standing outside the room while jerking off as he hears you calling out his name mind warped in insanity, desperation, and pleasure. He can enter the room if he wants. Albeit! he can barge into the room and give you what you need and in that process subside the tide that was high in both of you.

But seeing you so desperate, so needy, and that too for him fills him with immense love for you, reminds him of his days during the mission where he would find himself submerged in the thoughts of you, unable to touch you, unable to hold, and not wanting to channel it through him by getting himself off. It must be frustrating, right? To be consumed by need so much that you forget everything but the source. You just need to hold on a little longer. He can tell that you are just a few strokes away from reaching the peak. He is too. . .he thinks . . . he has now sat down on the floor with his legs sprawled apart as he strokes his cock in quick and rough motions. He wants to cum with you, not after, not before but when you do.

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yayll · 3 months ago

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~ a little something about Dazai and his tantrums ~

"... Hmph. I hope you crash this car and we both die."

The moody brunet mutters under his breath as he looks out of the car window, his arms crossed over his chest, refusing to look at you. He was awfully cute whenever he did this, and oh so vexing at the same time. You learned to acclimate to this very early into your relationship with him.

"What? All I said was that I was going to be driving us, Osamu!"

Your laugh is light hearted as you focus on the road ahead, dismissing his whiny behavior for another one of his... Melodramatic performances, his co-workers once called it. He finally turns to glare at you, but a wicked glint in his narrowed eyes betrays him... You can tell he's more unserious than anything. Playful, even. And besides, he would never actually be upset with you, he just can't stop thinking up schemes to make you roll your eyes at him. Your smile alone makes his thoughts impure, shame on you!

"Yeah, well... I feel dehumanized! overlooked! neglected..." He feigns offense, sighing heavily as he slouches into the passenger seat. He places a bandaged arm over his face, groaning softly but still side eyeing you to check if you're looking at him or not.

"You do that all on your own, silly."

"Excuse me? I'm expressing my grievances and you're calling me silly? Oh, so that's what this is really about. You don't love me anymore! What a cruel beauty you are..."

He gasps, now burying his face into the crook of his elbow, pretending to weep as he mumbles incoherent nonsense about how much you mistreat him. In actuality, he was giddy as hell. You park the car, and turn to face him, a coy smile flashes on your lips.

"Nobody said anything about not loving you. Now, what can I do to fix this, Mm?"

He lifts his head up, suddenly composed and shrugging his shoulders as if nothing ever happened, speaking in a matter of fact voice that somehow deepened.

"Well, definitely don't let me drive. I don't even have a license. I'd kill us in an instant."

"... Then why argue about it?!"

"Because you look so beautiful when you're yelling at me. And you make me feel alive. Anddd, because I'm bored~"

He flashes you a cheeky grin, it's dreamy and sickening. His eyes twinkle with mischief as he leans over the seat and flicks away a stray hair from your face. Dazai then taps the tip of your nose, slowly dragging his finger down to your plush bottom lip, gently flipping it over to expose your teeth. The pad of his finger gently swirls against your canines, and finally, retreats... He knows there's a time and place for his worship prodding. His eyes travel back up to yours, and you can swear they look darker than usual. If only the Port Mafia could see what became of the Demon Prodigy... A new man reborn! A man who loves!

The rest of the day is spent with you indulging Dazai, something along the lines of 'reparations' is what he calls it. Only he knows how much it means to him that you can handle him during his calculated outbursts... or rather harmless tests to prove you won't leave him at the first sign of trouble. He needs you to be in it for the longhaul, just like he is. It's deceptive, but no one has to know! He just loves you and these are simply counter measures. You'd probably call him selfish, but as long as you call him at all, he doesn't give a shit. Because in the grand scheme of things, he really can't drive, and you two are inevitably endgame.

You're the ball, and he's your chain.

#A PROPER DRABBLE LADIES N GENTS #can't stop thinking of dazai secretly putting u through trials throughout your relationship to make sure you're sticking around #his loser ass has severe separation anxiety and abandonment issues #it's a lil toxic......... but if u love him u won't mind #slightly yandere dazai save meeeeeee #i need him arrested!!!!!#anyway dazai can't drive and he's a freak #i love Him like that i love the pathetic microwaveable man #bungou stray dogs #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #dazai x you #osamu dazai #osamu dazai x reader #bsd x reader #dazai imagines #dazai fluff #dazai drabble #yandere dazai

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chainmail-butch · 7 months ago

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i was talking to a friend who's a trans woman about this. she used to be really weird about butch trans women, but ended up being butch herself. she told me she was adverse to it because "it was like watching someone leave their house completely naked. you feel maybe a little embarrassed for them but you're mostly scared for how other people are going to treat them too. [she] thought "well, [she'd] be embarrassed doing the same and maybe they were having a hard time passing. but then finding out they're doing it on purpose, [she] thought that they were making a joke of being trans, like they were enforcing the stereotype of just saying you were a woman despite not making any effort to look like one. [she] was confused as to why anyone would do that, especially when she'd been having a hard time being treated well even though she did everything to make herself like a cis girl." she hated having to put in so much effort into looking feminine but did it because she was sure that's just what you had to do. obviously, probably regardless of how she looked, she was going to be treated like shit on the principal of being trans and after actually talking to butches and thinking about it more, she decided to just dress how she felt comfortable and still be proud of being a woman.

That's very interesting to hear. That is the consistent impression I've gotten from well meaning trans women.

I had to wrestle with the whole, "declaring myself a woman without making the effort," thing. When I first transitioned I put on dresses, tried on makeup, and got cute jackets. None of it felt right. I knew, entirely, that I was a woman. But doing all of the things women were supposed to be doing made me feel even worse than when I had lived as a man, which is saying something.

I eventually figured out that there is plenty of effort to being a butch woman. There are still styles, there are still pieces of gendered clothing, there are still gendered actions, they're just hidden in plain sight. They're all the things I wanted to do and all the ways that I wanted to be perceived that I couldn't understand until someone (Leslie Feinberg) held a mirror to my face (SBB) and said Butch. Then it all clicked.

I've been doing HRT for three full years now. I've been socially transitioned for three full years now. It is work. It is a challenge. It is walking out of the house with nothing but your soul and what you choose to armor it with. For some women the armor is a dress and a full face of makeup. For me its leather and boots.

I love my sisters deeply. I love women deeply. I love womanhood deeply. But my womanhood is also deliberately not womanhood. My selfish desire is a world where I can be exactly who I am without having to justify it to every woman, trans or cis, that crosses my path. But that's not gonna happen any time soon.

As so many butches, cis and trans, have said, It is a difficult road to walk and I have no choice but to walk it.

#asks answered #butch #transgender

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prettyboykatsuki · 6 months ago

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I LIKE IT BETTER WHEN YOU CAN'T KEEP WARM | ODXNY

✮ tags ; heavy themes, gender neutral reader, mentions of past suicidal ideation, getting together, romantic tension, angst to fluff, extremely lovey-dovey ending, some implicit and suggestive content (lit one paragraph n non descript), themes of touch starvation, small height difference (reader is shorter)

✮ wc ; 6.3k (this is so shameful bye forever)

✮ a/n ; every time a semester ends i lose my mind and me writing this in several hours straight is evidence. if i had a nickel for every time i wrote a character study with the central theme of loneliness, i'd have two nickels - which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

i will spare you the insane rambling for the authors note at the bottom of this fic.

✮ synopsis ; he wants something. to live maybe. and if he could be a little selfish, to be with you. he wants that, too.

Bright.

Could just be the dark room he keeps himself in talking. His computer system and encrypted Internet browsers are all in dark mode - and his desktop set-up doesn’t have any L.E.D. strip lights to keep him company. He prefers it that way, the ambiance a better environment to work in when he’s doing his usual rounds. Down to the programs U.I. - Odxny spends most of his time in perpetual darkness. Cozy and familiar - totally safe and secure. Nothing but the low whirrs of a computers fan and the faint blinking of routers to keep him company.

You’re the brightest thing he’s had on his screen in a long time. You’ve got white walls and no precaution, really. You’re sitting at your own desktop - and he can see everything of your life in the background of where you sit. There are photos of you graduating high school, being around unnamed friends, vacations and trips, and head shots like the kind you take for a resume. It’s all so personal. Bookshelves, trinkets, poorly made clay sculptures. Posters of musicians you like and Studio Ghibli movies. Evidence of life surrounds you like a halo.

Awful. Angel comparisons to someone he’s only known for a day make him wonder if he’s more pathetic than he thought. He probably shouldn’t think so hard about a stranger, a real stranger. Thrim generated randomly, though he thinks it sounds like a name. Finds it fun to say, for better or worse.

Natural light pours in from a window nearby, casting shadows in your room. He already knows you, in a way. He did the background search. Where you were born, raised, grew up. The schools you went too, the career you seek. Bits and pieces of you are all scattered in his memory and are not at all thorough. He wasn’t really trying for that at the time, just needed to know if you were dangerous. There’s a cognitive dissonance. To know a life so thoroughly and to witness it is completely, and utterly different.

There’s miles between you. Must be thousands. He can’t remember the last time he’s really met someone, though. It’s hard not to notice that this feels akin to that. Like the embers of a campfire, glowing but not burning. A comfortable warmth.

Bright. His screen is very bright talking to you. Even obscured behind the mask, it’s a little difficult to look at it and leaves him on edge - restless and mildly painful.

When his vision adjusts though, there’s clarity. A person, a stranger - with an exceptionally nice laugh and who is exceptionally trusting. Odxny tries not to think too hard about the feeling of warmth that flutters at your overflowing sincerity.

The conversation is easy.

“Does that mean you trust me now?”

Odxny pretends to think on it. “Enough to keep you around.”

“See you later.”

“See you.”

You accompany your last words with a wave - short and sweet. Darkness pulls him in, back where he started. He has a mild headache from all the light.

You pick up on the language better than he thought you would.

He underestimated you. Can you blame him? Your choice is language is ArnoldC, for fucksake. Sure, he has limited knowledge on esoteric languages but can it really be in-depth enough to show you the basics.

(It can. Or at least, Od presumes this to be the case because you’re rather helpful in Incri’s hacks and Incri is hardly helpful to anyone in the world, no less the server.)

You pick up on things quickly with little guidance - always to the point and not usually making many errors. He has to commend your abilities and give you credit where it’s due. It’s not a hard language to learn, but for anyone with no familiarity with coding at all he’d expect there to be a learning curve. Even if you had coding language, it’s not like you knew SQL coming in.

You fit strangely well into the server somehow. You’re happy to learn and nonplussed about helping with small things, though you don’t know these people at all and have no reason to participate in their nonsense. You talk to Incri fine, and manage to get Pep to accidentally reveal telling information. Odxny finds all of this rather… entertaining maybe. More than impressive, really.

He has a hard time making sense of the feeling. He would hope you don’t think you’re under duress - given the fact your relationship in two days has been pleasant. Then again - maybe he’s missed some social cue and you do think that. It’s possible. After all, he doesn’t actually remember the last time he’s spoken verbally to anyone with very, very few exceptions.

He manages to call you again after the fact - opens the call with sincere and heartfelt congrats and feels pleasant seeing you take the compliment in stride.

You land on the subject of programming again, inevitably. He interrogates you a little more over your choice in language - almost like he can’t help himself. It’s basic curiosity. You had said you were the best in ArnoldC. A little research proved that to be true, presence of you in the forums of various esolang pages. He landed on many things. You’re the best at ArnoldC, but you also know Brainfuck for some ridiculous reason.

He thinks you’re a little ridiculous in general.

“It’s really for the love of the game, huh?”

You nod when he asks this. Smiling, bright and unbothered with a soft edge of smug pride that makes the muscles of his face twitch up. “Mhm. I like my little collection.

Odxny doesn’t doubt it for even a minute. He’s seen the proof, but perhaps he doesn’t need to mention that. “Your trophy case of ridiculous language?”

Your eyes come to life all of a sudden. “Wait. A real trophy case would actually be so cool.”

He pauses, blinking as the words sink before a smile breaks onto his face helplessly. “That was not to enable you.”

“Too late. I’m already looking up the ugliest wood trim display cases I can find.”

The laugh comes naturally. “You really are just like this?”

You look proud again. “What? Fun?”

Yes, Odxny thinks but doesn’t say. “Baffling.”

You ask Odxny to elaborate and he does. The conversation flows with frustrating ease. So easily that he mouths off about his plans to you without a second thought. He doesn’t know why he does it. Not really. He’s thought it through over and over - so it’s not like he needs to disclose it. He made his choice.

He thinks about moving it along. About ending the call or simply brushing past without going into any detail.

When he glances at the screen, you’ve got a pillow in your lap and your eyes completely focused on him. There’s that feeling again, alarming clarity in your gaze and brightness that causes him immense unease in the world he’s made of nihilistic, apathetic darkness. There’s a plan, always has been. He’ll do this and disappear and the world will soon forget him. If it happens that way, than at least this loneliness is a choice he’s made for himself and not something the world has cruelly decided for him.

His lips move faster than his head, than even his heart. Compelled by a nameless and brilliant force. “I don’t have any reason to stay. I’m just — tired. Of everything.”

“No reasons? Nothing makes you happy here?”

His response is measured. Quiet. It’s not secret. He finds his voice crumbles around the words anyway as if they’re a confession. “Not for a long time. I don’t feel much of anything, really. It is what it is.”

You frown. He’s seen it all before. Heard it all before. “That’s…”

He cuts you off quickly.

“We just met. And we’ll be strangers again soon enough.” He says with as much conviction and resolve as he can possible manage. Who he’s convincing remains unclear. “So, not to be cold but..you know.”

The disappointment in your face leaves an impression, but you relent. He tries to make amends for the depressing conversation of talking again and you perk up so genuinely it makes want to cry, in a distant and foreign way.

“Catch you later, then.” He says, and closes at out the call. The room falls dark for the second time. He blinks a few times to get rid of the light clouding his vision.

Wnpep is eager to teach you on the third day.

You’re eager in reply - matching energy with sharp wit and enthusiasm. Wnepep is a better teacher than Incri by several miles. Evident in how much faster everything falls into place for you. Not that you really need too much help in the first place. You break down the crumbling walls of an insurance scam with ease and come out of the other side more accomplished.

It’s a noble last hack, Odxny thinks. Not unsurprising from Pep - unofficially the most sane and likeable member. He figured it’d be something like this less than a matter of personal vengeance.

You go back and forth for a bit in admin chat. Od types an apology about winding you up and tries not to read too much into the innuendo of it as you reply back with your own faux offended replies. He insists he’s somewhat sorry, and you’re far from believing him.

He finds himself grinning at his screen while he texts you mid conversation. When the realization hits, he almost curls into himself from embarrassment - a hand covering his mouth like it’ll do away with the grave sin.

The inneundo happens twice in one conversation, before you get to call under the premise of a victory toast.

A brief conversation about the last hacks barely leaves room for much else except Odxny plans of total isolation.

“Mm. I should’ve known it would come back to this. Why do you care what I choose to do with myself?”

That baffles you in a terribly genuine way. “Am I not allowed to care about another person?”

Odxny speaks honestly. “You are but I mean…” He trails off. He knows how he feels. “I’m not really a person anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m no one. I’m going to be no one. You have other things to fill your life with.”

There’s a vulnerable edge to his voice that he winces at when he hears it. It’s true isn’t it? All of it is true to Odxny, but especially where he says you have other things to fill your life with. You might share the same hobbies, but he’s seen it. He’s seen how different you are - your livelihoods, your existence. You’d be missed if you suddenly disappeared. Odxny knows the same isn’t true for himself. It’s been like that for a long while now.

(It’s crushing. That’s what makes your very ephemeral existence feel like a burden. Why it casts the shadows of doubt on choices he made, about how he would live so long ago. You care, don’t you? At least, more than anyone else in his life in the present. You care so undeniably, and so obviously and it is all so simple to you.

He almost envies it. Almost resents it, too. It’s such a small shred of humanity, the barest forms of sincerity but it is painfully raw. A split nerve. An open wound It’s not like the server, all of whom have accepted this distant fondness. It’s a delicate thread - spider silk accuracy and just as much strength. There’s conviction in your missing him and it haunts him.)

You think of what to say for a long time before landing on it. “I do. But I can care about multiple things at once,”

It sounds like I care about you too closely. He finds himself shivering. He’s truthful with you, unsure of how else to be when it comes to these conversations.

“That sounds burdensome.” He says. “Isn’t that exhausting?”

You don’t lie to him either. “Sometimes. But it’s worth the trouble.”

“Why?”

“Because I like your company,” You reply. Soft sincerity in your words. More clarity. More painstaking light.

“It can’t be that simple.”

“Why not?”

“If it was that simple then -“ Then it makes it seem like things could be different. He doesn’t say that. Stops himself before it can happen. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to argue. Why do I feel like I need to prove this to you?”

He’s almost afraid to look at your face, wincing when he sees how knowing you look. Not in a condescending way - but genuine, full blown understanding. Like you see through him.

He wonders if he knows you as well as he thought he did.

Your face is so sympathetic. “Are you sure it’s me?”

He cuts the conversation short on his own - making an awkward transition from the topic at hand into whatever he can manage. It’s an awkward fumble - a poor attempt at distracting both of you from this line of thinking. You’re kind enough to let him have it. He asks about your hobbies. You tell him about how you like to try the weirdest things and combinations you can find in a restaurant.

He finds it suits you.

A lot of things suit you. Even your piss poor attempt at the Terminator that he quickly mimics - possessed by god knows what.

You laugh when he does. Brilliant and bubbly and characteristically warm. You say the words through giggles.

“That was so bad!”

“It was a lapse in judgment,” He replies back defensively, smiling against his will. He finds himself laughing too.

“I like your laugh, by the way.”

He pauses caught off-guard. “Oh? My laugh. Oh, uhm. Thank you.”

You make a face that he can’t read. Knowing. In a different way than the last. He feels nervous.

“I have been laughing quite a bit, haven’t I?”

You grin. Smug and deliriously happy. “Sure have.”

He looks away from you. “Ha...Odd.”

You giggle again. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, nose scrunched in genuine delight. It’s a pleasant sound but not because it’s particularly wispy or floaty or delicate. But it’s real. Pleasant in the way the white noise of park during summer. Pleasant like the varied playlist overhead in a record shop. Pleasant like a moment of humanity tucked between everyday. He clears his throat.

“I like your laugh, I think.”

You laugh again, gasping with faux offense. “You think???”

He tries not to feel so grounded by that sound and fails. “Yeah. I think. Laugh again.”

He tries not to add please. You shake your head like you’re reprimanding him.

“No, no, you have to earn that. Make me laugh.”

“Nevermind. Shut up.”

You do laugh again that time. He joins you soon after. “And now you laugh? At me?”

The conversation moves again, comfortable like a tide. You ask about his favorite language and he tells you as much. You’re quiet and growing cheeky, listening to him talk.

“So you do like coding.”

“Maybe a little.” He replies, not giving in. “You remember far too much of what I say.”

The conversation comes to a close again. He thanks you for how nice its been and you make an off-handed attempt to get him to change his mind. You could always talk more. The implication delicate beneath it.

We don’t have to forget each other. Odxny brushes past it - but says he’ll see you tomorrow anyway.

Extorting Elimfs childhood friend (?) is an easy enough endeavor. Odxny texts you through out - to ask advice on what things to take when he leaves.

He calls you again when its over too. He can’t find a reason for it - nothing that makes sense. He just wanted to call you. He hasn’t wanted something like that in a while, but he tells himself its fine. This is the last time you’ll ever know each other.

So its fine. He won’t waver.

He’ll just.. call you.

He asks you on your weed habits, mildly surprised when you tell him you smoke and take edibles sometimes too. The conversation loops back to the fund at one point. You don’t hide your displeasure about the whole thing today.

You’ve talked about it already. No need to keep bringing up. But you seem to feel so strongly and Odxny can’t figure out why. Can’t shake the feeling of wanting to know why every single time.

“Is it really so hard to believe I’ve come to like you in a few days?” You ask, after probing.

“In a way that matters, yes.”

You frown at him when he says that. It’s the most upset he’s seen you look, if he can call it that. You’ve never been upset when he’s been rude or insulting - but this is bothering you. It doesn’t help him pull away from you.

He says it again. Reinforces how temporary this all is. He’s trying to convince one of you. Both of you, maybe, of his unimportance.

“I don’t think that little of you.”

He finds it hard to reply to that. It’s that feeling against. It makes him uncomfortable. It’s not empty platitudes or some vague sense of responsibility for his life. All of it is real, and all of it is meaningful in how plain it is. You make it seem easy.

“It’s life. It’s normal. People come, people go.”

You shake your head. “Not for me. I can’t forget you that easily.”

He wishes you would. He’s painfully, painfully relieved that you wouldn’t it. He voices neither thought.

“Then- try! You’re putting so much on yourself, and for what? You don’t stand to gain anything.”

You shrug. “Peace of mind. Knowing you’re still out there.”

It’s heavy. The implication is heavy. He’s not going to kill himself. He doesn’t want that anymore, though he thought about it. At the beginning. Loneliness is more painful when you have memories of what not being that way was like - he thinks. At the start of all that loss, the hollowness bared an almost painful gravity inside of him.

It’s like being told to breathe or blink - becoming conscious of what was once a natural function, how full life was once when it’s escaped. He doesn’t want to kill himself, but living is meaningless.

These things aren’t paradoxical to him. They haven’t been for all this time.

(They weren’t until he met you at least. A mirror of wanting. Odxny looks at you and sees life reflected back. Despite it not being his, its moving. It’s beautiful in a human way, reachable. Tangible. Earned.

Wherever you are. Whenever you’re together, the black hole inside of himself seems to fade back into average planetary darkness. He becomes cruelly human again, feeling warmth and laughter.

He’s tells himself he’s not afraid of dying and that’s mostly true. He’s most afraid of living. Afraid he won’t be able to learn it again.)

He manages to tell you some of what he’s thinking. He has no clue how to start over. He doesn’t know if it’s possible. You don’t feed him any false hope, but he tells you how he sees it. You’re feeling pity for him right? And you should figure that out sooner rather than later.

“Is it really that easy for you?”

You shake your head. You’re smiling but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “It isn’t. But I have to try.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me?”

“What?”

“Is this…?”

He cuts the call off when he hears himself, unsure of what answer he’s hoping for. The realization dawns on him too much, too quickly. The feeling of hope is loud in his chest but there is another feeling, embarrassing in it’s swiftness that follows shortly after.

Oh.

The servers shuts down after a mildly sappy adventure to close up shop. The closest Odxny has gotten to flirting with you in his own way. He’s sad to see everyone go, despite there being no other choice.

It’s easier than he thought it’d be. To give you his number he means, even after shutting the entire server down. After leaving everything behind. He gives you the choice to make. Call me if you still want it - a silent promise.

Maybe because deep down - some part of him always wanted to make this choice. Just maybe.

Your voice is different over the phone line. A little clearer, spoken softer. Just as lovely as it was the first time he heard it. Maybe more. Maybe.

The city beneath him is bright. So bright. It doesn’t hurt to look at, he thinks.

You call him every day.

You’ve been doing it for months.

He thought, at some point, you’d let up or start to forget. He’s been waiting on it to happen as horrible as it sounds. Like some self-fulfilling prophecy, he’d slip back into the background as is natural. A proof of his nonexistence, if you will.

You don’t forget though. He almost wonders if he’s dreaming when it happens. There’s a routine between you two, these days. You have your own life that you’ve been living the same as normal. When it’s night time for you, though - you hop onto your desktop and call Od like you’re two very average people.

There’s nothing solid to define your relationship aside from friendship as is. This is less frustrating than he expected it to be. Getting to know you better has only made him like you more. Your relationship is solid in a strange way. It’s been about six months total, and as corny as it sounds - Odxny feels like he’s known you for his entire life. You understand him in an intimate way, with vulnerable tenderness and radical acceptance.

He kind of misses the privacy of his old stomping grounds, but he doesn’t mind speaking though discord. It feels… normal. In a not displeasing way. You mostly talk to talk about whatever comes to mind. Sometimes it’s your job search, other times it’s your part-time or friend drama. You’re vibrant as always. Without the wall of anonymity, Odxny gets to know of you like he’s just your average person. He finds he really, really likes that.

You play games together frequently. He’s never been interested in cozy gaming, but you play Minecraft and Stardew Valley together per your request. Odxny streams himself playing Ocarina of Time for you on Discord in the background sometimes too, and you keep it on when you’ve got work to do or you’re cooking or something else. There’s something very mundane to it.

You’re not doing anything with him today though. You’re calling him on facetime, rather than at your desktop. You’ve made the executive decision to laze around and Odxny has no problem joining you though you speak less than usual as a result of being sleepy. You had a long shift yesterday so perhaps Odxny can’t blame you.

“Need to get better shoes. For walking and stuff.” You say thoughtlessly. The corners of his lips twitch up.

“Yeah?”

You nod. Your face is smushed against your pillow at an unflattering angle. He smiles a little.

“Yeah. I’m on my feet for like nine hours when I serve and it hurts wearing flats. Need something sturdier even it diminishes my drip.”

He laughs at that. “Please never say that again.”

You continue onwards. “Decreases my aura, even. But alas, utility comes first.”

He snickers as he glances at you through the phone. You’re propped against one of his monitors as he does work on his computer. He’s getting back into programming for the love of the game, just seeing what he can do.

“Want help looking?”

“Feels a little ridiculous asking a super pro-hacker to shop Sketchers with me.”

“You seriously thinking of buying Sketchers?”

You laugh lightly. “Maybe I’ll get tipped more if I get the light-up ones.”

“Please don’t.”

“Hater.”

You break out into genuine laughter as Odxny shakes his head in despair. It’s something you’d do, no doubt. You sigh.

“I really do want a break from work.” You roll around on your mattress. Odxny can hear your rustling but can’t see you much. “The chains of capitalism shackle me in place. Woe is me.”

Odxny thinks on what you’ve said for a long while in silence. The question comes up every now and again though he’s never brave enough to ask it. His ludicrous amount of disposable income however is still sitting in his bank, collecting dust. It’s been six months and he’s hardly made a dent in it.

“Do you want to come visit?” He asks, cringing at the sound of his own voice. The words are strained and a little too eager. “I can pay the difference for expenses for wages and stuff. And, uh. Uhm,”

He loses his train of thought trying to speak, worsened by the way you pop onto his screen when he says that. Your expression is unreadable to him, comfortable and even. You smile a little as you lift the phone so he can see what you look like laying in your bed. Your face is in full view.

“It’d be a little weird to visit you before we start dating officially, no?”

His eyes go wide at the implication. You grin, mischief and mirth making your eyes practically beam. He can feel a blush crawl up his neck as soon as he registers it.

“Excuse me? Why are you saying that like it’s already been decided?” He bites back, not sure what else he could say.

“So you don’t want to date me?”

“I didn’t- you - damn it,” He groans at his own bluster as he giggles on the other side of the line. So cheeky. Damn him for liking it and damn you for being cute. “…You are saying you like me right?”

Your face softens. He can feel his heartbeat quicken. “Uh-huh. Just wanted to take it slow. But I’ve liked you for a long time.”

“How long is that, exactly?”

You shrug playfully and the fact he can’t be within reach to kiss you feels especially harrowing. “A secret.” You smile again, all trouble. “So. Wanna date?”

“Terrible confession. Zero stars,” He says petulantly. He leans back in his chair and finds himself smiling uncontrollably. “Fine. I guess.”

Your laugh fills his room. He doesn’t get tired of hearing it. His face hurts from smiling.

He manages to stave off on the anxiety of you coming to see him for a lot longer than he thought possible.

Making arrangements proves to be a little difficult. You have to tell your roommates that you’ll be gone for a while but promise to still pay rent and explain to your boss where you’re going. You have a good enough relationship and have been working long enough for them to agree to keep a spot open so you can start working when you come back.

After that, there’s the matter of Visas. Odxny goes out of his way to make that process go much faster than normal, though he doesn’t actually tell you. Once all of that’s sorted, there’s living arrangements. Try as you might to insist to live somewhere else, his place is too spacious for him to let you stay anywhere else. You can take the guest room.

He pretends that all of this is just happening in his imagination. He doesn’t even know the last time anyone came over, let alone lived with him. He does his best to make things presentable, and makes a guest room for you to live in should you desire. He even buys more decor (plants and things) to make it look… less like a cave and more like a home.

Nothing really feels real until the day arrives though. It’s a long flight and difficult trip. You refused to let him pay for the tickets so he moved it around to get you into first class both ways through other methods.

You text him the terminal, the arrival time, any and all delays. Still. None of it feels real until he’s already waiting for you near the bags. He can feel his heart race, his lungs short of air. He’s never experienced something so ridiculously contradictory in his entire life. He wants to run away while feeling stuck in place.

The anticipation nearly kills him.

He would recognize your voice anywhere though. Like he did for so many days alone in the dark. A hand waves high, shouting as loud as it can.

“It’s you!”

The sound of sneakers skidding across tile floors make his breath hitch. His eyes go wide as you stand still in front of him, luggage in hand and a million-watt smile on your face. He feels his heart beat so loud, he wonders if he’s going to throw up.

“Hey.” He says, dumbly.

“Hi!”

The adjustment period to living together isn’t what he expects.

It’s been a long time since he’s been so close to another human being. It becomes clear that you’re really living together though when your things end up in the bathroom completely incidentally. There’s something about finding your sleep shirt on a towel rack that makes reality settle in. You’re living together.

He’d be stupid not to notice the purposeful distance between you. An attempt to be thoughtful and not overwhelm him. It’s never awkward when you’re together. You eat together, watch movies and play games while sitting too close on the couch. You’ve been on a date in the two weeks you’ve spent, and it barely took any convincing on your end to make him go along with you.

Isolation aside though, Odxny is not clueless to the conventions of modern dating. You avoid touching him too casually. He doesn’t blame you, but he can’t help but crave your presence with a little more bittersweet longing as the days pass. He has to get past it or bring it up eventually, but it feels like something he’s never going to get over somehow.

The opportunity to do so gets thrown at him all at once. You’ve been living together for sixteen days. A conversation about love languages is what undoes it.

“Whats your love language, Od?”

He gives you a quizzical look. “Dunno actually. Never bothered to look.”

“I’d guess… hm. Quality time maybe? Or words of affirmation.”

He shrugs as he sits next to you on the couch, glancing at your phone as you read through the different ones. “What’s yours?”

“Physical touch. I’m super touchy. With anyone who will let me, honestly. Bad habits.”

Odxny gives you a long look as you say it. He debates if he should bring it up.

“You don’t have to be so careful around me, you know?”

You look up at him, startled by the comment. Several things pass over your face before you settle on an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s not like I don’t want to. I just don’t want to be too much for you.”

“That wouldn’t happen.” He says automatically. You laugh good-naturedly.

“Your confidence is assuring, but you underestimate how touchy I am. I’m afraid of I get my hands on you, I’ll never let go again,”

He thinks he wants that more than is normal. He shakes his head. “I don’t mind.”

You give him a long look, seeming struck by an idea, before humming and standing up. You turn around with your hand out towards him. His brows furrow in bewilderment.

“Have some faith.”

He takes your hand and stands up with you. He likes that he’s taller than you. Staring at you, he feels your fingers clasp around his hand and his heart thuds - loud and messy.

“Your room or mine?”

“What?”

You laugh. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Or don’t actually, but I don’t bear lewd intentions.”

He crinkles his nose at the word usage and laughs. “Shut up.”

“Just trust me, okay?”

He concedes with embarassing swiftness.

“Okay.”

You lead Odxny to the guest room you’ve been living in for the last two weeks. The bed is well-made and all the new furniture he bought is occupying so many of your belongings. It makes him dizzy. You shut the door behind him as you lead him in. It just feels especially surreal.

Wordless, you let go of his hand and hop up onto your bed. Once you’re laying down, you prop up on your side with your elbow and pat the empty space next to you, smiling at him as you do. Once it clicks what your asking, he can feel his face grow hot. He can’t refuse it though, and he doesn’t want too.

The sheets you bought together smell like you. Between there’s practically no distance between you at this angle. He’s gotten to look at you plenty through these few days but it’s different. You scoot impossibly close to him until there’s nothing separating you.

Your breath is warm - a soft exhale leaving your lips as you inch closer.

“What’re we doing?” He asks in a murmur, stone stiff. You smile, coyly.

“Touching each other.”

He frowns at the joke. Your expression goes a touch serious right after. The sincerity is debilitating. “Can I touch you?”

He nods. Can’t do much more than that.

He stares at you with impending, long-suffering longing as you bring a single hand to his face and cradle his neck. He flinches unintentionally, but pulls your hand back when you try to move it. He wants this. You relax a little when he does that.

Your hands are softer. Softer than a heartbeat. He can feel the various cuts and scars from years of working against his skin but they’re still so soft. He can feel how warm you in such a brief touch his chest aches. Your hands cradle his face tenderly, thumb brushing across his lip with a smile brighter than thousands of lights. Something in your expression wreaks havoc on his heart. Something so raw and so gentle and so full within it - all directed towards him.

It’s been so long. So long. He’s never wanted something so bad he couldn’t remember needing. He’s never wanted to be closer to someone than he does to you in the moment.

“You’re handsome,” You say, so sweetly. Not a confession, but gentle appraisal. It’s rare he cries but he wants too. “I like looking at you. Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” He rasps, gravel in his voice unfamiliar.

You hum a little. Closing the space between you with a press of lips. It’s not chaste. Odxny is grateful for how long and how deep you linger. He wants it so badly. He wants you in some damning and unforgiving way. How could a human being feel so warm? Feel so pleasant with so little?

You press your foreheads together. His hand trembles when they grip onto your waist but you encourage him just a little. It’s just a kiss. His heart might beat out of him. It’s just a kiss. He thinks he loves you.

Your hand moves away from his face. You let it go underneath his loose shirt to touch his shoulder, running your palm down the plane of his chest. You squeeze his waist, and wrap your arms around his back and pull him to you until your bodies touch somewhere in the middle.

You guide his face to your neck and chest as you hold him. He grips onto you tight in response, a gasp in the back of his lungs at the sudden sensation. You coo above him, soft and light - your fingers threading through his hair and nails massaging his scalp.

Your voice sounds above him, despite how deep in a haze he is. He can’t do anything but cling to you with impossible longing. You speak softly as you pet him. Your heartbeat soothes his.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You tell him. There’s that familiar clarity that makes him want to cry. “I’m glad you let me come with you.”

He can’t think of anything to say back. It’s a soul-shattering emotion. “I love you.”

You laugh wetly above him. “I love you, too. So much.” And then much softer. “Let’s be together for a long time.”

You lay in each others arms until sunset. In small talk and silent murmurs. It takes him hours to work up the courage to kiss you again - but only minutes to take it further.

It’s desperate. Terribly. Inevitable. You’re beautiful in a way that is undescribable, best expressed through his teeth on your neck and his hands all over where he can reach - each grip and thrust and bite a reminder. You’re pretty when you’re pleased, warmth reaching up inside of him whenever you make the right face.

He buries himself in you. You’re soft and warm and beautiful and he wants to stay with you. Time is a thief. He damns the sun when it tears you from him come morning.

He decides to make breakfast when you wake up. Nothing complicated. You go to shower after him and he plates up toast and eggs and other various things. It’s half done when you come downstairs.

Your skin is still damp, and you smell of vanilla and soap. Your coffee sits in a cup on the table as you pad over to him. He turns to look at you as you reach your hand up and cup his face. You pepper a kisses along his cheeks stopping at his lips for the last one before you’re satisfied.

He fails in his attempt not to blush.

“Morning.” You grin. He tries not to be sick at the domesticity of it all and fails.

“Yeah. Morning.”

You sit at the counter and drink your coffee, glancing outside the window. “It’s bright outside.”

Odxny can’t tear his eyes off of you. “Yeah...” He agrees. He’s not torn his gaze away. “Very bright.”

✮ a/n ; i want all real life compsci men to kick rocks but odxny sweeped me off my feet in a way i can only describe as humiliating. he is a bit like astarion for me in that i see a lot of myself in him at least in the past. he is also incredibly babygirl and uhm . other things (fine. he's very gorjus.) but i truthfully was most compelled by his idealized idea of isolation. as the fic will show it resonated with me as a fellow compsci dork who also tends to isolate like crazy LOL

this fic was like a demon that possessed me. literally no meds, no caffiene - just balls to the wall demonic possesion of needing something out of my system LMAOO. and adhd of course. im working on all the other stuff too i promise. consider this a short interlude 👍🏾

#seekL x reader #odxny x reader #seekL #odxny #girl how the hell am i meant to tag this #normal fandoms tagging ettiquette means no fic but i dont think it applies here #what is my problem so genuinely

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fallstaticexit · 21 days ago

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Ahhh it's been 65 years, and I feel kinda crazy that I've had this sitting in my drafts for like 2 months. Assuming most readers of Missing Moments are also The Art of Being Seen readers- there's some hefty lore here that will come into play later.

prev/ next

Olive: Time to move on, right Kia?

[phone pings]

Nancy: Hello darling. Do you have a moment to talk?

Olive: Who’s this?

Olive: I don’t recall saying yes.

Nancy: [sighs] It feels so good to hear your voice again.

Olive: I only answered to tell you to block me.

Nancy: I would never.

Olive: Even though I asked?

Nancy: Well. I am incredibly selfish.

Olive: Why did you call me?

Nancy: I would like to see you, Olivia. Please.

Olive: I’m not for sale, sorry.

Nancy: I know. I wouldn’t want to meet on those terms again. If I could do it all over, I would have asked you to have dinner with me when I met you. I would have courted you properly, Olivia.

Olive: [scoffs] You would have gone to a strip club and asked a stripper to have dinner with you? Seriously? When would we have ever met under any other circumstance? It’s been made very clear to me how different we are. The only way this would have happened was if it were a fairy tale.

Nancy: What matters is, I have met you. I’ve experienced you and I can’t go back. My husband- my ex husband- he signed the petition for our divorce. I came out to him- officially. It’s over.

Olive: [stunned] That’s- that’s great. I am so happy for you-

Nancy: I’m leaving all of it. I’m starting over. All I want is you, if you’ll have me.

Olive: [sighs]

Nancy: Let’s just have one dinner and after we’ve talk, then you can decide. There’s so much I want to say, but I want to look you in the eyes as I say it.

Olive: One dinner?

Nancy: One dinner.

Nancy: May I see you tonight? I’ll send my driver and I’ll cook for you at my place. Anything you like.

Olive: Tonight is fine.. sure.

Nancy: [sighs happily] It’ll be hard not to kiss you the moment I see you-

Olive: Not too much, lover girl. It’s one dinner and I’m still very annoyed with you about all this, ok?

Nancy: Yes, my love. I’ll see you tonight.

Olive: And don’t look at me like that. It’s just dinner and a conversation, ok? I am not going to sleep with her ok?

Malcolm: Well. Now I see why my mother was so willing to ruin an entire empire over you. Those mugshots did you no justice.

Olive: What is this? Where’s Nancy?

Malcolm: I noticed our driver was heading this way, I figured I’d tag along. Sight see. Get in. Let’s chat.

Malcolm: I wonder if this feels like dejavu to my mother. She makes yet another thoughtless mistake and someone comes along to make it all go away. She has a nasty habit of that, you know.

Olive: Listen. I’m not feeling whatever family drama you all have going on. I don’t want to talk to you. I want to talk to Nancy.

Malcolm: I was raised by a narcissistic liar and a spineless coward. If I let this company fall apart, then wouldn’t it all had been for nothing?

Olive: [scoffs] So you want pity? I’m suppose to pity you? Give me a break.

Malcolm: Not pity, no. If anything, I pity you.

Olive: Is that right?

Malcolm: When it comes to success, you pale in comparison to your half siblings. You’ve financially crippled your parents in legal fees since your arrest and all you have to show for it is by shaking ass in a low end strip club in the Spice District. That’s right, I know alot about you Olivia Briar.

Malcolm: I know about that quaint little family of yours down in the country. I know about your niece’s struggling restaurant and her undocumented partner. Funny, he’s able to acquire loans under a fake name but there’s no records of a Noa Briar anywhere. I wonder what else your family is hiding.

Olive: [shaken] What is this about? Are you threatening me? What the fuck do you want?

Malcolm: I’m here to help you, not hurt you. One of the greatest lessons I’ve ever learned was the power of the dollar. I can make a lot of your problems go away with one deposit if you do just one thing.

Olive: [softly] ....What?

Malcolm: We’re going to turn around and park in front of your building. You’re going to go upstairs, pack up your things and then, you’re going to go back home to sweet old Henford. You’ll pay your parents back with the money you’ll receive from this arrangement and you’ll help your niece and nephew. All your problems - poof- gone.

Malcolm: All you have to do is walk away, and stay away. You see, my mother has a nasty debt to this family she still needs to pay. Don’t make it your burden.

#missing moments #the briar legacy #sims 4 simblr #ts4 simblr #sims 4 stories #sims 4 #sims 4 legacy #it's the evil villain monologue for me

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eelclaw · 5 days ago

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the protagonists of the broken code. who's rootspring

i am tbc's number 1 hater! negative thoughts below

shadowsight: other characters sometimes acknowledge that he was manipulated by ashfur, but the narrative puts all of the blame for the ashfur situation on him, neglecting that (a) he did exactly what he was supposed to do as a healer (obey and take messages from a starclan cat), and (b) the codebreaker hysteria was far more a product of clan culture than the actions of a single apprentice. he isn't treated like the victim that he is, and it is frustrating and not cathartic.

bristlefrost: what the hell does she even do. what does her spy arc accomplish or contribute (like mother, like daughter). she finds out that bramblestar isn't bramblestar far too early. she's so perfect and she has no flaws and she's so empty. i want her to be worse. how much more interesting would she be if she was sneaky and selfish? if she was loyal to the imposter because she truly believed in what he was saying? not to mention how she reciprocates rootspring's feelings with literally zero warning, and ceases to have what little character she'd had to begin with. i genuinely don't care that she dies, they did nothing to make her an engaging character. miss bristlefrost, i'm sorry they did you so bad.

rootspring: first rootpaw thinks he's weird because of his father. i hate this because i hate tree. later, rootpaw thinks he's weird because he can see ghosts. so they give him this "i just want to be normal" deal, and the clans suddenly pretend that ghosts are silly and not real. sure, rootspring and tree are the first clan cats with this specific power. and i get that the clans have very rigid beliefs, and they are afraid of anything that contradicts those beliefs, and that's interesting! but ghosts have been appearing to clan cats all the way back to tpb. fireheart tries to kill clawface at one point and he senses spottedleaf's spirit beside him, there to avenge her death. so rootspring's issue is stupid and he's nothingburger to me.

bramblestar: the arc really depends on me giving a shit about what happens to him. which i don't.

i think bramblestar is unintentionally a bad person and a great character. he proves himself by rejecting tigerstar, but he's still deeply insecure. he makes mistake after mistake (conspiring with tigerstar; hesitating to save firestar from the fox trap; forsaking his children after finding out they're not biologically his; using his power over squirrelflight as a warrior, deputy, and leader to control her), and for none of these mistakes is he held accountable (no thunderclan cat except leafpool learns that he plotted with tigerstar; he is allowed to remain deputy; his children think he was the best father ever; in every situation, squirrelflight seems to bear the consequences of his actions).

in other words, bramblestar gets chance after chance to redeem himself, and he keeps fucking it up. again, that's interesting! there is a story here about how difficult childhoods affect adults, and how powerful men are not held responsible for hurting people. except that's not how he's written. he's written as a completely good person, a brave and noble leader, and all of the clans respect him and they need to get him back.

there's a crazy amount of bramblestar worship in this arc. even rootspring, a brand new skyclan apprentice, thinks about how important bramblestar, the thunderclan leader, is, and how all the clans wouldn't be the same without him. i can't take it seriously.

graystripe: graystripe also got a crazy amount of worship. i couldn't stand reading every few paragraphs about how great he is.

side note: shadowsight, bristlefrost, and rootspring all want the same thing. they advocate against killing bramblestar's body. wouldn't it be more interesting if the protagonists had different perspectives and opinions? if they wanted different things? for example, it makes sense that shadowsight wouldn't want bramblestar dead. he feels like the only way to make up for his mistake is to recover bramblestar alive. but bristlefrost could be in favor of killing bramblestar, because the only way to make up for her mistake (supporting the imposter) is to get rid of him. putting our protagonists at odds would generate some interesting conflict.

conclusion: i also have problems with ashfur (why does ashfur try to stir up trouble with codebreaking which will certainly get him caught when he could just take over bramblestar's body and live quietly with squirrelflight), tigerheartstar, mothwing, starclan, the dark forest insta-death water, firestar possessing rootspring, the pacing (oh my god! they were debating whether to kill bramblestar for like three books! and for three more books they were running in circles in the dark forest!), etc. but i've already written a lot and i'm out of steam lol.

let me finish by saying these are kids books, and i'm not expecting them to be the cream of the crop, but there are a lot of writing choices which are incredibly misogynistic and/or completely baffling from a narrative standpoint. i still have a soft spot for this series though. dammit. okay bye

#shadowsight #bristlefrost #warrior cats #my art

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whateveriwant · 8 months ago

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Choice

Summary: Simon forces you to choose. Him, your husband… or the other man he found in your bed.

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: ANGST

A/N: Forgive me.

“Simon!” you gasp, bolting upright in bed.

There, darkening the doorway to your bedroom, stands your beloved husband. You thought you'd spotted something lurking in the shadows of your periphery, but rather than it being a mere figment of your imagination like you'd hoped, you've come to find out that's not at all the case.

Simon’s brows are knitted tightly together, the lines framing the sides of mouth deepening as he begins to scowl. “Fuckin’ knew it,” he grits out. “Knew you were a fuckin’ liar.” His eyes flit back and forth between you and the figure lying beside you in bed, and if looks could kill, you'd both be six feet under.

“Simon, no, wait–!” You're quick to shoo the other male from your bed even as your husband storms away. Jumping to your feet, you chase after him, tugging your shirt into place from where it had ridden up. Simon’s just reached the living room when you manage to catch up with him. “Simon, please just–”

“When will enough be enough?” he cuts you short as he whirls around to confront you. You've never seen such anger rippling from him before, and it makes you recoil, stopping dead in your tracks. “When's it gonna end, huh? You promised me you were gonna fuckin’ stop this.”

“I-I-I know I did, Simon,” your voice trembles under the weight of your shame.

He's right. After the last time, you’d told him that was it, that it would never happen again.

So much for keeping your promise.

“I'm– I'm so sorry,” you try to offer him, for whatever it may be worth.

Apparently, it's worth very little as he proceeds to scoff right in your face.

“You’re ‘sorry’?” His expression pinches to show how he takes offense to that apology. “That’s three times this month I've caught you. Three. Let alone how many other times I'm sure have been behind my back.”

Again, he’s right on the target. You’ve been dishonest with your husband, been deceiving him more times than you can even remember at this point. Though you're in no place to feel as if you're the one that's been hurt in this situation, you can't help how his biting words feel like daggers plunging right into your stomach.

Simon sighs and brings a hand up to rub his forehead, the self-soothing gesture doing nothing to soften the lines creasing his skin. After a while, he asks, “Why?” his voice much calmer than it was a moment ago. “Why d’you keep doin’ this? Lyin’? Sneakin’ around?”

When he drops his hand to look at you again, you can see how quickly his emotions have shifted from fury to sorrow. The sight of his grief almost wrenches your heart in two, and you swallow the lump in your throat, your own emotions threatening to spill forth and choke you.

“I… I don't know,” you tell him, yet another lie.

You know the truth behind your actions, the real reason you can't break this bad habit. It's because you're selfish; because you're spineless; because you're fucking weak.

Your answer, the unconvincing slop that is, isn't good enough for Simon, and his shoulders rise in a show of perplexity. “Am I not treatin’ you right? I've been withholdin’ from you? Is that it?”

You're shaking your head before he even finishes the inquiry. “No, Simon. It's nothing like that,” you say.

“Well then, explain it to me.” He tosses a hand into the air, the frustration in his tone palpable. “Because I'm tryin’ to understand what makes him so bloody special. What is it about him that makes you treat me like a fuckin’ afterthought?”

“I don't–!” you begin, the accusation immediately putting you on the defense. But then you pause and intake a deep breath, trying to rein yourself back in. The last thing you want is to strike a match against this highly combustible conversation. If ignited, this powder keg runs the risk of taking you both out with it.

You take another moment to collect yourself before releasing an audible exhale. “Yes, he means a lot to me–”

“Oh, well, I'm bloody well aware of that, thank you.”

You ignore the derisive comment as you continue, “–but you're my husband, Simon. At the end of the day, I always want you,” you emphasize. You can feel a stitch forming between your brows as they slowly pull together. “I know you're upset with me – and I understand, truly – but I… I-I just…” your voice trails off as you consider your next words.

You know what you want to say, what niggling thought you want to express. But you're not sure if voicing it aloud is the right move to take. You're trying to cool down the tension here, not potentially add fuel to the fire.

But as Simon prompts, “What?” you realize there's no backing out of it now.

You sigh. “I just think you're blowing this whole thing out of proportion.”

The way your husband's eyes immediately widen tell you it was probably better to have kept your mouth shut.

“Blowin’ thi–?!” Simon blinks wildly in disbelief, his anger from earlier surging back tenfold. His voice is venomous as he spits, “I catch you lyin’ to me, catch you continuously goin’ behind my back.” He points an accusatory finger in the direction of your bedroom. “I catch you with that filthy shite in our bed–”

“Hey, don't call–”

“–see him lyin’ there, sleepin’ on my fuckin’ pillow, and you think I'm ‘blowin’ this out of proportion’?!” he's fully shouting now, his volume having risen alongside his fury. Simon lets out a dry chuckle that's entirely devoid of humor. “Do you even hear yourself? Do my feelings mean nothin’ to you anymore? Do you– Do you even really love me?” his voice peaks as a wave of despair washes over him.

“Wha–?” Now it's your turn to blink wildly as you're caught off guard by that last sentence. “Of– Of course I do, Simon! Of course.” How can he even ask you such a thing?

“You just love him more, then, right?” The question stings like a punch to the gut.

You shake your head vehemently, asserting, “No. No, of course not!” even as you feel a twinge of guilt pricking the base of your skull.

Just as you're slightly skeptical of your own words, so too is Simon, and he brushes you off with a, “Pssh, right.”

The heightened emotions of the last several minutes persist even as you and your husband lapse into a tense silence.

As you stand there, you watch as Simon begins to harshly run both hands through his hair, not sure what you should say – if there's anything to say in this moment. Though you and he have had this same argument more times than you'd like to admit, something about this time felt different to you, felt like there were higher stakes in the mix. And as you reflect on the quarrel, you can't help how one line in particular sticks out in your mind. ‘You just love him more, then, right?’ he'd accused, bluntly, bitterly.

The idea is ridiculous to you, loving someone else more than your own husband. It sounds like something only a fool could believe.

But if that's the case, why did Simon say it so assuredly?

And why does the thought of it make your stomach clench like there could be some truth behind the claim?

After another few moments of him tugging at his roots, Simon releases a billowy breath. He briefly closes his eyes and shakes his head to himself, before dropping his hands back down by his sides.

“I don't know how much longer I can keep this up,” his voice sounds as exhausted as his body looks. As he peels his lids open to once more lock with your gaze, you feel your own eyes narrowing in your confusion.

“What do you mean?” you ask, voice quiet, timid.

“I mean you need to choose,” he tells you. “Me or him.”

That statement has you balking, the cords that hinge your jaw shut practically snapping. “Si, you– you're not serious.” This has to be some kind of sick joke, right?

“I am.” He nods resolutely. “I can't keep doin’ this – goin’ back and forth with you, wonderin’ if you're really all here with me or not,” he says, frowning. “So you need to choose. Right now. Me… or him.”

It's like you've just witnessed your worst fears materialize before you. Simon, your loving husband, has just asked you to do something that was once completely inconceivable to you. He's asked you to make a world-altering choice: pick between him and someone else.

The decision should be easy – should be obvious – and yet, you find yourself frozen, unable to speak the words you know you should say.

Simon is your husband, the first and greatest love of your life. But this other man he's making you choose between is… well, he's something else to you entirely.

When you're having a rough day and feel like the world is collapsing in around you, he's the first one you want to run to when you need a shoulder to cry on. And conversely, when you're feeling on top of the world, feeling so high up you could reach out and touch the clouds, he's the one you want to call so you can share your joy.

From the moment you met him, you knew he was one of a kind. He's got a smile that could rival a thousand suns, a kiss that could warm the coldest of nights, and the way he looks at you – like you hold the entirety of his universe in the palm of your hand – you think it could keep your heart beating long after it's chosen to stop.

He's your best friend, your other half of a whole, your personal ray of sunshine that cuts through all the gloomy rain. Simon is your husband, yes, that’s true. But this other man is your soulmate, and you know that however long you both shall live, you will love each other until you take your final breaths.

Tears start to bead in your eyes as the answer to your predicament reveals itself to you. And as Simon eventually pushes, “Well? Who's it gonna be?” you know there's only one thing you can tell him.

“Him,” you mutter, feeling the first tear spill over. “H-Him, Simon. Him. I choose… him.”

It's like the planet ceases to spin for a moment as your choice floats in the air like a ghost. At first, you think Simon must assume you're bluffing, what with the way he has no immediate reaction to your response. But as the silence stretches between you and you've yet to renounce your decision, you watch as the realization hits him like a slug to the chest.

Simon's face falls, the color zapping from his skin, and as his eyes start to shine with tears, you find your cheeks flooding with your own.

Simon blinks rapidly, his nostrils flaring as he tries to keep his emotions at bay. His brow furrows like he wants to say something – to argue something – but when he opens his mouth to speak, no words escape. He closes his mouth for a second but then opens it again soon after, once more nothing leaving him but the sound of his breath.

Open then shut, open then shut, he repeats the cycle over and over again, never once managing to get a word out. Finally, after several minutes of waging an internal battle with himself, Simon eventually lets out a low sigh of defeat.

“Then go,” he mutters, gaze falling to the floor. “Just… Just go.”

Your own heart shatters at seeing the pain you've caused your husband. But you can't take back what you've said now, and even if you could, you both know it'd be a lie.

Thus, all you can offer him is a whispered, “I'm sorry.” Any louder and your voice would break from the strain of your cries.

The room falls quiet again as you both let everything sink in. Simon, your husband, the man you'd promised forever to, just put his heart on the line, practically flayed himself open for you… and you didn't choose him.

“I'm sorry,” you say again because you don't know what else there is to do.

Simon waves your apology off with a dismissive hand, still refusing to meet your eye.

Over the next few moments, you continue to sob softly, the sounds of your sniffles puncturing the otherwise quiet house. After a while, you feel the faucet behind your eyes gradually slow to a trickle, and you wipe your face with the back of your shaky hands, swallowing down the last of your tears.

You take another minute or so to compose yourself, still standing before your forlorn husband. Once you feel somewhat well again, you clear your throat, then tip your head back to let out a short, high whistle.

Almost immediately, you hear the telltale noise of feet moving against the hardwood floor. Then, not a beat later, you see the man you'd just chosen rounding the corner to the living room.

“Come here, pup-pup. Come here,” you encourage Riley, your fourteen month old shepherd-mix, forward.

Like the good boy he is, Riley trots closer at your beckoning. But before he reaches you, he makes a pitstop by Simon, shoving his cold, wet nose into the man's empty palm.

Riley gives him a couple boops to the hand, politely asking him for pets. And Simon, for his part, despite still being obviously disgruntled, obliges and gives him a brief, dispassionate rub to the snout.

Having received his desired scritches, Riley then continues over to you, and you crouch down so you can meet him at his level.

“You wanna go cuddle with me some more? Yeah? Do you?” you pitch your voice up in that babyish way Simon pretends to hate.

Riley, however, absolutely loves it, and his tail wags back and forth in a way that says he's all too eager to agree.

“Okay, let's go!” You wave him after you as you take off down the hall.

As you both walk back to the bedroom you'd been occupying earlier, you hear Simon speaking behind you, muttering angrily to himself.

“Mangy fuckin’ mutt. Knew he was gonna be trouble,” he murmurs as he makes up a spot for himself on the couch. “First he steals my bed, then he steals my cuddles, next he'll be stealin’ my fuckin’ car…” his voice peters out the further away you walk.

“Don't mind your daddy. He's just being grumpy as usual,” you stage whisper to Riley as you approach the door to your bedroom.

Letting yourself inside, Riley quickly follows after. You shut the door and then waltz over to the bed, patting the empty space beside you as you settle in.

Swiftly, Riley jumps up to join you, taking the side normally reserved for your husband. He moseys all the way up the mattress until he reaches Simon's pillow, where he proceeds to lay down.

You roll onto your side and start to pet him, scratching that spot behind his ears you know he loves. As you do, you see that infectious smile of his slowly take shape, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as his eyes drift closed.

The sight of him so content makes your own lips upturn into a smile. He is so sweet, so perfectly innocent, that it makes your heart want to burst inside your chest.

And as you continue to cuddle Riley, making little kissy noises in his ear, you know you made the right choice as you grin and ask him, “Who's my favorite boy?”

__________

A/N: April Fools! Hope I didn't break your heart too much lmao!

As always, I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley angst #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare 2

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teencopandthesourwolf · 1 year ago

Text

He freezes. Doesn't know what the hell else to do.

He can't picture it: Derek can't remember the last time somebody put their arms around him.

Was it Laura?

Of course it was Laura. How could he forget that? Derek has gotten pretty good at blocking things out—a little too good, it seems.

She didn't tell him anything before leaving New York. Didn't say a fucking word, just up and vanished. Derek had woken up one morning and she was gone, because she'd known without a shadow of a doubt that Derek would've only followed her if she'd have said a single word to him.

Nobody ever granted Derek’s wishes, no matter who he prayed to. Those desperate pleas where he asked to go back and get a chance to fix things, they all went unheard.

Laura left to go back to the place they both wished still existed just as it had; a place they were wanted alive, not dead. It wasn't fair that it was the very same place they would be hunted down if they did return, like the rabid animals the Argent's presumed they were.

Leaving the way they did meant they hadn't gotten the chance to see if anything was left at the house. They couldn't even mark graves, and grieve properly.

That same place also happened to be the place they'd been born, the place they'd grown up and called home.

Derek had never wanted Laura to face all of that alone.

The burnt down house. The nothing where there was once everything.

The thought still haunts him. One of so many.

Beacon Hills is home—but it's the home Derek had helped raze to the ground with his selfishness and stupidity. Everything he and Laura had ever known, everyone they'd ever loved, it was all gone, now. Derek had taken those things away from his sister and hadn't even had the guts to tell her. Tell Laura they were all gone because of him, tell her that everything that had happened to their family, to them, was all his fault.

In the aftermath of the fire Laura hugged Derek, and had kept hugging him, over and over in those weeks and months and years that followed. She would pull him into her arms hold him tight, whenever she could sense it was all getting to be too much for him again.

Alpha.

Big sister.

But Laura only knew about some of the reasons why it sometimes felt like too much effort for Derek to keep on breathing.

He never told her about Kate.

And Derek, the fucking coward, he'd allowed Laura to hold him, feeling the flames of shame on his cheeks every time, hot as those that took the lives of his parents. His family. His pack.

Now, he remembers that last time.

“I'm going out.”

Laura stood up, walked around the two mismatched armchairs and stopped him by throwing both her arms around his neck, pulling him into her and hugging him, scenting him.

It always took him a moment to respond these days, but Derek hugged her back.

“What's this for?”

“You. Because I know whomever's bed you end up in tonight, you won't be asking for one of these.”

Oh, fuck no. Derek couldn't handle that. Did she think he was out sleeping with people? Never again, not after…

He pushed his sister off him, gently; a stark contrast to the harsh words that followed.

“Don't fucking coddle me. And fuck you, Laura—I don't sleep in anybody's bed but my own.” A single mattress on the floor of the lounge of their shitty one bedroom apartment. Derek had so many shameful memories, and crawling into his sister's bed every night for the first year after the fire was one of them. “Just—leave me alone.”

Laura was the one—the only—person Derek had left in the entire world, yet his guilt was constantly pushing her away.

“Where do you go to, little brother? You might not be clinging to me anymore, night after night, nightmare after nightmare, but you're rarely in your own bed most mornings.”

She hadn't meant it as a dig. Derek knew that. She was his sister, and she loved him.

Maybe she thought he was making progress? Seeing people. Moving on.

Derek spent his nights waiting outside of dive bars, and hanging around in back alleys and dark places, desperate to find scumbags to taunt who were big enough and hard enough to at least attempt to kick the living shit out of him.

Derek hated being a werewolf, now. He wanted to get hurt and stay hurt.

“Just—out.”

Then Derek turned his back on Laura, leaving her to stand there and watch him walk away as he left her to go out looking for a fight, without looking back.

That was the last time somebody put their arms around Derek—and the last time he saw his sister alive.

It was two years ago. Derek doesn’t think he has taken a full breath, since.

Now here he is—standing in his stupid big loft that he bought for his betas, yet another pack he managed to destroy—having given away more than he should, with skinny yet strong arms wrapping as far around his shoulders as they'll reach.

Stiles.

“You don't have to hug back. But you can, if you want to. I won't tell,” the kid jokes. It's his way to connect, his connection to the world. A coping mechanism, Derek thinks.

He knows all about those.

“I…” he doesn't have the first fucking clue of how to handle this. Or how to admit he needs it—to himself, let alone somebody else. He doesn't know how to admit that he wants it.

But this is Stiles. The one person in Derek's life who seems, for some unfathomable reason, to give a fuck about Derek. To care about him.

Slowly, very slowly, Derek lifts an arm and awkwardly rests a hand on Stiles's upper back, feels the muscles jump slightly under the kid's baggy clothes as he tentatively spreads his fingers and finds the back of Stiles's neck.

Stiles's voice hitches just a touch as he says, “These can be on tap, you know. If you want them. Stilinski hugs are the best hugs, dude. Believe.”

And Derek finds he does believe. For the first time in forever, Derek believes there could be something good in his life again.

More confidently, now, he brings his other arm up to wrap around Stiles's waist and hugs Stiles tighter, properly, and allows himself to be hugged back.

Derek wonders how he has gone so long without this kind of closeness. Lived without this kindness.

He decides to let the 'dude' pass. Because maybe—maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, to be somebody's dude?

Stiles's dude.

It's a fucking ridiculous moniker and yet Derek suddenly couldn't care less.

“I think I'd like that,” he whispers into the forbidden place where Stiles's jaw meets long, pale neck. "Dude."

Derek can feel Stiles's smile as the kid squeezes him harder. And, ironically, Derek feels as if he can breathe again.

for @greyhavenisback bc i want to hug you in person and can't <3 (unedited, forgive me!)

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 7 months ago

Text

10: REVELATIONS

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Sharon Carter, of all people, manages to knock some sense into your favorite super soldier.

Word count 2.8k

Warnings: Sharon Carter and her brutal honesty, Bucky Barnes and his ignorance

Bucky returned from his mission physically unharmed, but his conscience didn’t let him off so easily. Sharon was a great partner, but she wasn’t you. She was very business-like but cold. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but he couldn’t quite open up to her the way he had with you. Bucky wondered if he would ever be able to bare his soul to another human being again. He had given so much of himself to you, was it too much to ask for just a little in return?

Why had you forced him to take just drastic measures? Why did you force him to choose? Why didn’t you love him back? There were days when he could see love in your eyes when you looked at him, but the voice deep inside Bucky that always told him he was undeserving, had him believing that all he saw were his own feelings reflected back at him. He would never have dared to think that you would have been so selfish as to deny him of someone who would love him in return. His thoughts constantly revolved around you, plaguing him long into the night and affecting his sleep.

He couldn’t deny it, he missed you. He felt like a part of himself was missing. Without you by his side, life seemed empty. He reflected on how he didn’t feel that way when he was away from Priya. Perhaps he should, especially after he had confessed his love so publicly to her. Bucky sighed heavily. Had he been too rash? You were always so kind, so selfless, so giving. He would never have entertained the notion that you had nothing to give him for his birthday. Even if he didn’t have your love, he knew he had your friendship. What had gone wrong? You had once told him that all you wanted for him was peace and happiness. Right now he felt neither.

He craved your company, he longed to hear your voice, coveted the warmth of your embrace. But his anger and sense of betrayal had been overwhelming. Why wouldn’t you let him be happy? He couldn’t have you and you wouldn’t let him be happy with someone else. Bucky tightened his grip on the controls of the quinjet.

"Barnes, I got to say, I knew you had a reputation for staring, but I think you’re taking this to a whole new level." Sharon interrupted his thoughts.

"Sorry?" Bucky looked at her with surprise. He had all but forgotten that Sharon was sitting next to him.

"If you grip those controls any tighter, we're going to plummet to our deaths."

"Oh," Bucky released his grip on the handles.

"What's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You look like you haven't slept in a week."

Bucky shrugged.

"So why isn't Cricket here with you?" Sharon probed, continuing despite Bucky's sullen silence. "I mean she clearly wasn't busy with other things."

"Stark calls the shots, I don't know what he’s thinking." Bucky lied through his teeth, knowing full well that he had requested Steve to assign him a different partner.

"So nothing going on between you two?"

"Nothing going on? What does that mean?"

"Oh come on Barnes, I know you’re ancient, but you can’t be that clueless. Everyone thinks you were sleeping together!"

Bucky’s eyes were practically popping, he was utterly speechless.

"They what?"

"But you have a girlfriend now. Is that why Cricket resigned?"

"SHE WHAT?" The plane jolted slightly

"Watch it, Barnes!" Sharon shrieked.

Bucky straightened up the quinjet before speaking. "Cricket resigned?" he asked, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he had heard.

"You don’t know? Wow, how badly did you fuck her?"

"We didn’t…"

"Oh, so she’s leaving because you wouldn’t fuck her, is that it?"

"Sharon, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"I’m just curious!" she shrugged before prattling on. "I can’t see why else she would be leaving such a great position… unless, did you knock her up?"

"For fuck sake Sharon, nothing happened with me and Cricket. We’re just friends."

"Well maybe it should happen then. The way you two look at each other is sickening."

"You know what, this is the reason no one wants to work with you." Bucky grumbled.

"Because you’re too afraid to hear the truth. I’m just telling it like it is. She looks at you like she wants you to fuck her."

"Sharon, I’m warning you."

"Ooooh, Mr America, Cap’s best friend is warning me! What’re you going to do, spank me?" Sharon replied in a mock sultry tone.

"Shut up, Sharon."

Sharon let out a barking laugh, but said nothing more, leaving Bucky more to think about than before. How dare you resign without telling him? Surely it was something someone discussed with their partner. How does someone dump their partner without so much of a word? The small voice of conscience in his brain, your voice, screamed, ‘didn't you do the same?’ He had requested a new partner on this mission because he was angry. He remembered the look on your face when he had left for this mission. Bucky could tell you had wanted to speak to him, but he hadn’t given you the opportunity. The rational part of his brain told him that you had made many attempts to speak to him.

Bucky's mind was a whirlwind of emotions as he tried to process everything that had just been thrown at him. Sharon's words echoed in his head, taunting him with the possibility that maybe he had missed something between him and you. Had he been blind to your feelings all this time? Had he been so consumed by his own insecurities and doubts that he had failed to see what was right in front of him?

He couldn't shake the feeling of regret that washed over him. Regret for not being more attentive to you, regret for not being more open with you, regret for not realizing sooner that maybe, just maybe, you had feelings for him too. The thought of you resigning because of him made his heart ache with guilt. How could he have been so blind?

Bucky's thoughts raced as he tried to make sense of everything. He couldn't deny the fact that he missed you, that he longed for your presence, that he yearned for the connection he had with you. Sharon's words had struck a nerve, awakening a realization within him that maybe, just maybe, he had let something special slip through his fingers.

As the quinjet continued on its course, Bucky's mind was consumed with thoughts of you. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had made a mistake, that he had let his own fears and insecurities cloud his judgment. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, of losing the one person who had always been there for him, who had always believed in him, who had always seen the good in him.

Bucky knew he had to make things right, that he had to find a way to reach out to you, to apologize for his blindness, to make amends for his mistakes. He couldn't let you slip away without a fight, without at least trying to salvage what was left of the bond between you.

As the quinjet landed, Bucky's resolve hardened. He knew what he had to do. He had to find you, he had to talk to you! With a determined look in his eyes, Bucky stepped out of the quinjet, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead in his quest to win back the one person who had always held his heart.

"Buck," Steve put his hand out to stop Bucky marching off as soon as they disembarked from the plane. "Where're you going? We need to debrief."

"It can wait." Bucky shook off Steve's arm.

"Bucky, this is important."

"I don't care, Steve." He shouted over his shoulder as he made his way towards the compound's living quarters.

Sharon stopped beside Steve. "He's got it bad."

"What happened, Sharon?"

"He realized he's an idiot."

Steve frowned at her.

"Cricket." Sharon rolled her eyes. "Are all of you clueless?"

"Sharon, Cricket isn't here."

"Well, someone's going to have to tell him that."

Steve sighed. "I guess we could reconvene in an hour or two."

"Great, I’m off to take a shower!" Sharon waved at Steve and wandered off.

Meanwhile, Bucky had started sprinting towards your rooms, practically knocking over a couple of new agents who had been getting a tour around the compound. He arrived on the floor where your rooms were situated feeling out of breath and extremely nervous. He had no idea what he was going to say, having not quite thought things through. Frowning slightly when he noticed that your door was slightly ajar, he skidded to a halt. You had to be inside, you often left your door open. You always said ‘everyone was welcome’. Your warmth extended to everyone you met, every single member of the team opened up to you, confiding their secrets. You had such a beautiful openness about you, it was so easy for anyone to fall in love with you, even a broken centenarian with a cantankerous demeanor and suffered from post traumatic stress.

Bucky took a deep breath, he still didn’t have the right words in mind, but he knew he wanted to see you, just a glimpse of your smiling face. He hadn’t seen it in a while, and he knew he was the cause. He had been so angry about his own choices, blaming you for having to make them, that he hadn’t stopped to think about how they affected you. For someone who claimed to love you, he had been incredibly selfish. It was almost an epiphany to Bucky, finally dawning on him that he had forced you to adapt to his choices rather than discussing them with you. He was the one who was too cowardly to share his true feelings for fear of losing you, and his behavior had led to him losing you anyway.

Softly, he knocked on your door, which swung open slowly. The sight before Bucky almost broke his heart. Your room was empty, all the things that bore your unique signature were stripped away. He stumbled inside still breathing heavily. What had he done?

"Cricket!" he called out loudly at first, as though you were hiding behind the remaining furniture, before whispering desperately. "Cricket."

Bucky collapsed on your bed, turning to the toy white wolf you’d left on your pillow. A white wolf, that was his moniker. He remembered seeing you choosing it at Coney Island and had been so blinded by jealousy that he hadn’t noticed your choice. You had always chosen him, systematically and consistently put your faith in him, given him your unwavering trust. Why had he been so quick to dismiss you on his birthday? Why hadn’t he returned your trust? He clutched the plush toy against his chest, burying his face in the fur and breathing in deeply, it smelled of you. He knew you had held it just as he was doing now. He wished it was you that he was holding, oh to be able to bury his face in your hair. He missed how you stroked the back of his neck when you comforted him.

Finally Bucky took his nose out of the small wolf and looked around with tear stained eyes. They landed on the thin, still wrapped vinyl record on your bedside table. The beautifully printed card was carefully taped to the edge. He ran his fingers over the flowery card with his name stenciled across the front, he could tell you'd made it yourself. He slipped his finger in the gap where the wrapping paper met and opened it with ease, unveiling the first edition Glenn Miller album which had been produced back in the 40’s. Bucky sniffed as he ran his fingers over the record before picking up the card to read your message.

"Dear Bucky." He could hear your voice in his head as he read your words.

"Happy birthday to my best friend! I hope this day brings you all the joy and happiness that you deserve. I wanted to take this opportunity to remind you of the love that surrounds you, both from your past and present.

"I know how much your family meant to you and how much you miss them every day. That's why I got you this Glenn Miller vinyl, the last song you danced to with them. I hope that when you listen to it, it reminds you of the love that they gave you and the memories you shared together.

"But I also want you to remember that you are not alone. You have friends who care about you deeply, who are here for you no matter what. We may not be your blood family, but we are your chosen family, and we love you just as much.

"So on this special day, I want you to know that you are loved, Bucky. You are cherished, you are valued, and you are important. And I hope that as you listen to that vinyl, you feel the warmth of the love that surrounds you, both from your past and present.

"And may you always remember that you are not alone, that there is someone out there who cares for you more than you could ever know.

"With all my love, Cricket."

He couldn’t believe the depth of your love and care for him. How could he have been so blind to it all this time? How could he have pushed you away when all you wanted to do was show him love and support? Bucky felt a wave of regret wash over him, realizing the mistake he had made in letting you go.

He sat there on your bed, clutching the record and card to his chest, tears streaming down his face. He had never felt so lost and alone, knowing that he had driven away the one person who had always been there for him. The weight of his actions weighed heavily on his heart, and he knew he had to make things right.

"Buck?" Steve’s voice broke through Bucky’s maelstrom of guilt and self flagellation, making him look up at his oldest friend. Steve sat down beside him, putting a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder. "Look, you have time to fix this. Do you have any idea how much Cricket loves you? She's always been there for you, and you just pushed her away without even giving her a chance to explain," Steve said sternly.

Bucky nodded, wiping away his tears. "I know, Steve. I messed up big time. I was just so scared of ruining our friendship if I told her how I really felt."

"Well, now’s your chance to make things right. Apologize to Cricket and tell her the truth. She deserves to know how you feel," Steve urged.

"What… what am I going to do about Priya?"

"Tell her the truth."

"I don't want to hurt her."

"Bucky, you can't keep living a lie just to spare someone's feelings. It's not fair to either of them. You need to be honest with yourself and with them. It may be difficult, but it's the right thing to do."

Bucky took a deep breath, nodding in agreement. He knew what he had to do. He had to apologize to you and tell you how he truly felt. He couldn't let fear hold him back any longer.

He stood up, determination in his eyes. "Thanks, Steve."

Steve gave him a reassuring smile. "I believe in you, Bucky. You can do this."

There was something about the way Steve spoke, he had a way of inspiring people. Bucky had seen that since they were kids. He couldn’t think of any other reason as to why he would have followed the scrawny kid from Brooklyn down every dark alley. He was grateful for Steve’s unwavering friendship and the honesty in his opinions. "Did she tell you how she felt?" Bucky asked. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

"Buck, it’s not my place to talk to someone else about their feelings."

"You don’t think it’s too late, is it?"

"You won't know until you try."

Steve's words didn't instill hope, but he was right, all Bucky could do now was try his best.

"Do you-" Steve stopped as his phone vibrated. He pulled it out to see a message from you flashing up. "Hang on, it's Cricket."

"What did she say?"

Steve frowned, you never sent voice messages. You always said you hated the sound of your voice. He pressed play apprehensively.

"STEVE!" Your voice was loud and urgent over the speaker. "Alien attack! Vrellnexian! Need back up! Red Oaks Mill. Back up would be- shit" They caught your muffled curse before the message stopped.

Steve and Bucky took one look at each other and leapt up off your bed, running towards the door.

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