#leaves the reader with a memorable discomforting taste in the mouth | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peeterparkr · 5 years ago

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limits of desire⤳t.h.||20

chapter 20: the honeymoon.

story summary: you met Tom a night he was trying to sleep with you, it didn’t work and you became best of friends. Wedding bells might be ringing for when you both realize what you really feel.

summary: the one with the silence and the halloween party

pairing: fuckboy!tom holland x best friend!reader

warnings: swearing, alcohol, just a little angsty but not really

word count: 5.7K

song I recommend to listen while reading:

if i could fly-one direction

night changes-one direction

back to you-selena gomez

secrets-one republic

change my mind-one direction

listen to one direction

previous chapter epilogue series masterlist wanna be tagged?

Silence is such a tricky concept when it comes to love. Silence is a tragedy when two lovers can’t say what they truly want. Comfortable silence sounds ideal when you go past the zone of judgement. Y/N and Tom had always loved the silence between them, when they could spend an afternoon doing nothing, each in their thoughts and no feeling of anxiety or discomfort. That’s the ideal.

But they had come to the tragedy silence, once which felt like having their voice cut by their own hands. It would be easier had they left things unclear. It’s easier to know someone doesn’t love you back and go separate ways.

Yet they knew they loved each other. And they knew they were meant to be. So hard to part when you both know you want to be together. But when one’s love is that strong then it won’t matter.

But it did, didn’t it?

They didn’t like each other anymore. But they did. However, they had to pretend like they didn’t. Or pretend they were not aware the other existed.

That was the agreement they had reached, become strangers. But how can one pretend to be a stranger to someone whose lips you can still taste in the corner of your mouth?

To play pretend they didn’t hear each other’s name whenever the other came up in conversation. To ignore the tickle in their tummy if someone dared to mention the other.

Because they had to grow, they had to heal and they had to learn. But their absence was too much sometimes.

Tom and y/n hadn’t talked since. Silence.

However, they had cheated. They had seen each other, incidentally, but avoided their glances even if they both knew they were staring. Going to places where both knew they’d find each other. That wasn’t considered like breaking a rule, was it?

It had not been planned, but it had been wished. Tom had walked in to their favorite cafe with the only desire to be reminded of her, and it seemed she had thought the same thing. They hadn’t initially seen each other, but as Tom was looking around, he saw her. And he was reminded of a simpler time.

Y/N with her notebook, a pencil pressed against her lips, her hair tied up as she hovered through her keyboard, and as she stared at an open old book. A half bitten croissant and a lipstick stained coffee mug. So focused on whatever she was doing, like the good old days where he had met her there and she had a paper, or an exam or whatever that her classes were putting up with her now.

And Tom had felt how his heart had stopped, because it had been a month already. And he had felt like he had just been stabbed right in his chest but healed right away.

Then she looked up and dropped the pencil, as her eyes landed on him. They stared into each other's eyes and it felt eternal. But Tom quickly cleared his throat and looked away.

They weren’t ready, and they both knew it. But Tom had dared to look back up again, and she gave him a heart full of sad smiles, Tom gave her a smile back and then chuckled to himself.

And Tom tried to ignore her but kept glancing at her, and she looked better.

And it became a routine, one that couldn’t be spoken. Sometimes, they’d incidentally be at the same cafe or at the bakery at the same time on Sundays, but never look into each other’s eyes and never even dared to speak a word. But they could steal a glance or two, and dedicate a smile. They’d sit across each other, usually, y/n curled up with a book, or writing on her pad or typing.

Tom would bring in scripts, or just stare at his phone.

It was their secret.

That was at the beginning, at least, but then they got busier, and Tom had to leave to film.

Tom knew she had lost her almost job at the BBC after the events at the press conference, however a magazine had searched for her. Now she was writing for a fashion magazine in their wedding section, the biggest irony one could think of.

Tom had read each and every one of her articles, but the first one she’d written. He’d kept in his heart.

Tom would re-read it again and again, memorizing its words, and he’d read all of them. She’d changed her name on instagram, too. She called herself “The Runaway Bride” that was her section on the magazine. Now her life was ruled completely by the title of it. Tom understood it was better than having the other nicknames they had given her as of when she had rejected him.

But she was different. She had a blog, she was writing, and she would post poems sometimes. At least that’s what he’d gotten from a quick stroll through her instagram. Nothing too big.

But Tom eventually stopped looking at it, because they had agreed on that. They were supposed to become strangers. And this wasn't doing this.

Award season had begun and every time a reporter would stop him, he’d try to imagine that y/n could be there, interviewing him for real, instead of the crazy and silly imaginings they would come up with. He missed her.

.He wondered if y/n was ready. He probably wasn’.t. Because they had agreed on it, we’ll search for each other when we no longer need each other. And the fact that he still had to search for her meant he needed her.

And their visits faded away, and that’s when it all started to turn on the lights. He remembered her, for sure, in the details. Like in the mornings when he was drinking his tea and asked himself if he wanted lemon and honey or cream and sugar. Or whenever he was watching Friends, and he’d turn around to quote it with her, and he’d realize that she wasn’t there. Sundays felt different.

He wondered if it was bad to think about her from time to time, wondering if she was alright. He didn’t understand his heart anymore. But Tom knew, this time was for her the same as when she had left. This was the reflection she needed.

And she had traveled to Paris, to Milan, and to Prague. Her job, Tom knew. And he had traveled to, press tour, filming.

And Tom dated. Once, or twice. Actual dates, not one night stands. He had gone out, and played it all. But it was just a way to confirm it more. He loved y/n and there was no one else he wanted to be around.

And Tom would sometimes sit down and dress up and he’d have nowhere to go, but he knew it was good to wait, because the moment she came back, he’d give her all his love. But he couldn’t help but stare at the clock.

The months went by and by. And he had hovered over her instagram page and realized it, they’d become strangers. They knew nothing about each other anymore. She had texted him on his birthday, he had texted her on hers.

Something weird had happened, something nobody had seen coming. Not Y/N and Tom at least. Harrison and Lizzie had started dating.

But Tom guessed that he had been so selfish and so focused on y/n that he hadn’t seen that Haz and Lizzie had grown closer since Tom and Y/N’s first kiss. They had started texting each other, and seeing each other, trying to solve their friends’ stupid decision. And eventually, they’d hang out with each other with the simple excuse they wanted to see each other.

Tom would try to ask about y/n but Haz wouldn’t let him. And Lizzie would be hanging out at their place and Tom would try to sneak a question or too, and Lizzie would answer:

“She’s not ready yet, Tom. Neither are you. But she’s alright.”

Haz had told him that y/n had gone out in a few dates, too.

“Haz told you?” Liz asked. “Huh, he shouldn’t have but yes, but… Look, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but they weren’t… Great, she had a good time but there were no second dates if that’s what you’re asking.”

And sooner or later, it was around Halloween. 10 months without her. But he hadn’t been thinking about that, not for the last few months at least. She did cross his mind every now and then.

But he didn’t mind it, he was getting ready for a Halloween party that Harrison was throwing. Haz and Liz were going to go as Bonnie and Clyde.

Tom had decided to go as Hercules, Haz had given him the idea, it could hurt no one, right?

And he was getting ready, everything was fine.

But Tom was having a good time, the music was great, his friends were there and the games were fun. He was fine. He had had a couple beers. But he was okay, some friends of his were there. And some friends of Liz’ too. He recognized Hannah and Jess whom he hadn’t seen since… the wedding. He felt weird, seeing them.

But he continued to ignore it, he was okay. And then it happened. Just like every other single time, he felt like the music had suddenly stopped.

The door had opened and he swore he could listen to the air outside just as the light hit her just in her smile. Her hair seemed shorter, and her cheeks and lips were pink. She was followed by no other than a guy, he looked handsome enough. And Tom shattered right there. He imagined all the scenarios, maybe she had met him at her job, or maybe at the coffee house that one time Tom had not gone to, or maybe in Paris, or Milan or Prague. Was this the second time? Had y/n realized she truly didn’t want to be with him? Had she come to ask him again to be her maid of honour? Had she already married?

But then as he saw their interaction it seemed to be a mere coincidence, two strangers who had walked in at the same time. Y/N ignored the guy as he walked in saying hello to some of the people already having fun. She stayed there taking off her coat revealing a pink dress, Megara, Tom acknowledged. Tom understood then, why Haz had been so insistent on the Hercules costume. And Tom realized it then that the guy who had walked in was in no way dating y/n. She lifted up her bags and walked over to the table where the drinks were, she took out some bottles and a bag of crisps.

Tom had zoned out, and his eyes were directed at her and only her. Harry had replaced the empty beer on Tom’s hand with another beer.

Tom’s eyes widened.

“Bottoms up, or… offer one to her, maybe?”

But Tom couldn’t even move. He watched as a tipsy Lizzie had approached y/n and hugged her.

She seemed nervous. He watched her shake her head and look around the room, playing with her hair.

“Did… did you know?” Asked Tom.

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, but they forbid me to give you a heads up,” Harry admitted. “Was it… Are you alright?”

Tom sipped his beer. “I… I dunno.”

“That’s why you’ve had a beer in your hand all night, ‘right?” Harry explained.

“Why…?”

“I think you’re ready, ain’t you?” Harry asked. “‘Cause she is, at least, Haz told me that she asked if she could come.”

“She’s ready?” Tom watched her as he saw Lizzie trying to calm her down, too. She hadn’t seen him.

“Oi, to be in the same room as you, at least,” Harry told him.

Tom nodded. “Right, but I feel like I shouldn’t… Walk up to her, right? It’s...it’s been a while, what would I even say?”

“A hello wouldn’t hurt.”

Tom shook his head. “Not, not...yet.”

Harry didn’t push it. But Tom avoided y/n, but he saw Haz and Tuwaine talking to her. Even the twins, he guessed they had missed her. And a shy smile was on her. But he noticed something, people weren’t leaning in. She wasn’t whispering. Tom thought about how different things would have been had this party been two years ago, Tom would have made sure to have something to make pink mimosas, and he would be flirting with her, on the couch probably, hugging her as they played something, but he’d end up with someone else.

But they weren’t talking, they hadn’t even seen each other in the eyes. Probably, Tom guessed, she had seen him and tried to steal a glance.

Eventually Tom walked to the table where the drinks were. He was pouring some water when he felt someone approach him.

“What’s someone like you doing in a place like this?” The voice asked.

Tom went stiff as he turned around.

She was there, with that smile she had, one he remembered, the sad apologetic one. Tom had to lick his lips as he stared at her.

“Hi,” Tom finally breathed in.

“Hi,” she bit her lip.

He didn’t say anything, instead, he just tried to adjust his grip on his red cup of water.

“I… I know it was a risky move,” Y/N started. “But I…”

Tom smiled. “No, no… it’s… it’s perfect,” he grinned. “Uh… how, how…”

“I’m good,” y/n admitted. “What about you? I saw you just came back from filming…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tom ran a hand through his hair.

Y/N looked up and down. “Hercules, huh?”

“Yeah, Haz insisted,” Tom chuckled. “Now I...kind of see why, Megara,” he grinned as he saw her costume.

“Nice knees,” she giggled.

Tom blushed, rolling his eyes. “I’m kind of pulling it off, ain’t I?” Tom grinned.

“You… actually are,” y/n laughed. “Wonderboy. The hair looks good,” she said, ruffling it a little. “Okay, turn around,” she chuckled as he did, trying to show off. “Yeah, yeah, looks good.”

“You… you look very beautiful, too,” Tom admitted making her blush. “Can’t believe they set us up, though.”

Y/N laughed. “Liz asked me about a month ago whom I was dressing up as for Halloween, I told her Meg to shut her up and then she actually bought this.”

“She did?” Tom chuckled.

“Yeah, at the end I was going to do a last-minute costume, but she had it,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

Tom gulped. “Oh, so you’ve known about this for a month?”

“Didn’t know it would be…” Y/N trailed off. “I mean I knew I’d go to a party, but I well—“

Tom wished he had pockets to dig his hands in. “Right,” Tom laughed.

“I’ve missed you,” she admitted.

He smiled. “I’ve missed you, too.” And they looked into each other. “Uh… Can I offer you a drink?” Tom asked.

She grinned.

“Sure, a beer would be good.”

Tom looked up for it and then stared at her. “This is weird isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t—Kinda, yeah, kinda weird.”

Tom looked around. “Let’s go outside,” Tom suggested and y/n followed him,

“We agreed on being strangers,” Tom said as they walked outside, a few other people were there, but they found a spot where they could sit.

Y/N looked at him. “After all we’ve been through, I can’t pretend I don’t know you, Thomas.”

Tom nodded, they clicked their beer together and then proceeded to take a sip.

“I mean we could pretend,” Tom suggested. “Maybe we could go back in time, Halloween 6 years ago.”

Y/N chuckled. “Oh, right. Have you any perfume hanging around so I can spray it on you?”

Tom chuckled. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“No, but—“

“You don’t feel like a stranger,” she nudged him.

“But I could be, you know?” Tom grinned.

“And what would you do if you were a stranger?” Y/N asked. “You wouldn’t even look at me if it weren’t for our history.”

Tom looked at her. “What?”

Y/n chuckled. “Please there are lots of prettier girls out there.”

And it felt like an old conversation, one they would’ve had before. Like they used to because, in a way, it didn’t feel weird, it felt like the conversation they could’ve had had she not returned last year engaged.

“Yet I’m here with you,” Tom pointed out.

Y/N grinned. “Hmm lucky me.”

“I would be here anyway,” Tom chuckled. “I mean you’re dressed up as Megara, it’s kind of meant to be, isn’t it?”

“Meant to be?” Y/N chuckled. “Or more like those two dickheads over there are onto something,” y/n pointed out as she signalled Haz and Liz who had their eyes glued on them. Tom and y/n flipped them off at the same time and then proceeded to laugh together. But then the laugh quickly faded out.

“But if I were a stranger…”He cleared his throat and walked away then back to her, as y/n watched him with curiosity. “Hey.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Hi?”

“I’m Tom,” he grinned. “Can I sit here?”

“Sure, a friend just left,” she chuckled.

“Hm, a friend,” Tom smiled sitting down beside her. “So what’s your name?”

“Tom—“She chuckled. “We don’t have to do—“

“No, no, hey, we are strangers, I wanna get to know you.”

She glared at him but he winked at her, making her blush.

“My name is y/n,” she grinned.

“Hmm… funny name,” Tom pointed out.

“Hey!” She nudged him.

“Sorry, I’m honest, you should know that about me,” Tom shrugged. “Which is basically a way to shield me on being a jerk.”

“You don’t seem like a jerk,” she smiled.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

She giggled. “I’m… a reporter and a writer, I work at the BBC and I occasionally write for a magazine.”

Tom bit his lip. “That’s great.”

“What about you?”

“I’m an actor,” Tom said.

“Ah cool, have I seen you in anything?” She teased.

“Mm,” Tom scrunched his nose. “Probably not, maybe this project, you may have heard of it… The avengers? I play this guy Spiderman.”

Y/N shook her head. “Never heard of it,” she lied and let out a laugh.

“Yeah, no, it’s pretty small,” he smirked.

“Someday you’ll have your big breakout don’t worry,” y/n grinned.

“So you’re a reporter that must… mean you travel a lot!” Tom asked.

She frowned.

“You seem like someone who’s travelled lately,” Tom said condescendingly.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “So someone’s been looking at my Instagram.”

“How could I? We just met,” Tom smirked, sipping his beer. “But is that a way of giving me your Instagram? Are you flirting with me?”

“Tommy,” She rolled her eyes.

“Already starting with nicknames, sweetheart?” Tom teased.

Y/N glared at him jokingly.

“Well, have you travelled?”

“Reporters usually—“Y/N cleared her throat. “Well they usually don’t do it that much, but yeah, I have travelled.”

Tom bit his lip. “Where to, lately?”

“Recently went to Italy.”

“What did you do there?”

y/n sighed and looked away.

“Hm?” Tom pushed.

“I… Tom, I should’ve...Told you before,” y/n bit her lip.

“What?”

“I got engaged.”

Tom stopped. He felt cold. He felt sick. He wanted to get sucked into the earth. This was the same shit all over again. He went pale. He was sweating cold.

But he was mature enough, and though it hurt, he knew that this had been a consequence of the silence and he should've stopped her when he could’ve. But if she had taken this decision, it meant that they never should have been in the first place, if finding herself meant she was in love with someone else, then he had to agree with it.

“I...well, I’m happy for you.” And he meant it, in a way he was happy for her.

Y/N then burst into laughter, as she threw her head back.

Tom frowned. “What?”

“Oh my god, I’m joking!” She explained in between laughs.

“What?”

“I’m not engaged, oh my god,” she said.

Tom felt the warmth coming back to his body. He had to stand up to laugh nervously to himself.

“Oh my god,” y/n laughed. “You actually believed it?”

Tom rubbed his hair and his face, nervously. Now chuckling embarrassed. “How could I not? God,” Tom chuckled, placing a hand on his chest. “I almost had a heart attack.”

“I...oh my god, no I’m sorry,” she giggled, standing up, placing only one hand over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry it was too soon.”

Tom pulled her into a hug, because he felt like he had wanted to wrap himself around her since he had first seen her walk in. She gave in to the hug, and nuzzled into him, she’d missed him too, Tom guessed.

“I hate you,” he stated.

She grinned. “You should’ve seen your face.”

He let her go and sat back again. “You suck.”

“I know,” she grinned, sitting back down. “But see? We can’t act like strangers.”

“You dropped that bomb only to prove that?”

“A stranger wouldn’t have reacted that way,” she winked at him.

Tom laughed. “Well, I’m sorry?” Tom was dignified.

“We’re not strangers, Tommy, even if sometimes I wish we were.”

“Yeah, after that I wish I didn’t know you either,” he joked, nudging her. “

She smiled, slightly.

“It would be too ironic, wouldn’t it? Had I really been engaged, but I—It would be impossible,” she confessed. “Maybe it sounds conceited , but… It would be pretty stupid even if I was dating someone.”

Tom watched her.

“Dating is underrated,” Tom agreed.

“Have you dated?” Y/N asked.

“I—Well, I have,” he admitted.

“Yeah, me too, they set me up a few times,” y/n accepted. “How did they go? Are you seeing anyone? Met anybody?”

“I have,” Tom admitted.

It was y/n’s turn to become stiff. He saw how the light in her eyes faded away and the smile she was wearing disappeared. She had to shift in her place but nodded.

“Oh,” she licked her lips. “Cool, what’s her name?”

“I’m not sure if I should tell you,” Tom sighed. “It’s…”

“Is it serious?” Y/N asked, and Tom could tell she was trying to speak with the least poison she could.

Tom shrugged. “I mean, well. Kind of.”

Y/N played with her fingers. “Well, I’m…” Y/N looked around. “Maybe you can give her someday that ring you bought, the Tiffany’s one.”

Tom’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You know, the one that was in your nightstand a few months ago,” y/n snaked.

“I wouldn’t give her that ring,” Tom chuckled, nervously. “How did you know?”

“Why not?” Y/N smiled.

“Y/N.”

She smiled sadly. “If you love her, don’t let her go.”

Tom felt a stab on his heart and then rubbed his face. “Oh god, how do you do it?”

“What?” Y/N frowned.

“I was trying to pull off the same stupid joke you made yet I’m here feeling guilty for even coming up with it,” Tom scoffed, letting out a gentle and embarrassed chuckle.

“So you’re…?” Y/N frowned.

“No, I’m not seeing anybody,” Tom laughed. “How could I?”

And she finally breathed out, nervously as she loosened up herself. “Oh, you looked so serious,” she giggled. “Dumbass! I really believed it.”

“You don’t give much credit to yourself, y/n,” Tom pushed back a loose strand of hair. “You sometimes forget I’ve been in love with you since we first met, and I haven’t stopped loving you since.”

She blushed and stared into his eyes, and he felt it again, he felt his soul naked with her, as if she knew all his secrets. But he didn’t have to have any secrets with her.

“That’s good to know,” she smiled as her fingers finally searched for his hand.

“I do want to know, y/n,” he cleared his throat. “What ring are you talking about?”

She shrugged. “I...remember that day before the dancing lessons?” y/n asked him.

“I...yeah?”

“Well, I went to your room to search for a charger and I… opened it and I found it,” she admitted.

Tom felt his heart break. “Oh, yeah.”

She stayed quiet.

“Well, before I knew you were…. Engaged, I well, I may have thought about going down on one knee,” he admitted truthfully. “But I… well, I don’t have it anymore.”

She nodded.

And they stayed quiet, for a bit. Drinking their beers. And the party was continuing around them. And Tom was sure that he should kiss her, but it wasn’t the time. Right now, it really wasn’t the time. Even if he was almost certain she loved him still. But maybe they truly were strangers now, maybe they had always been strangers. Because they had kept secrets, secrets that shouldn’t have been kept. But she felt like home, like listening to an old song, or like tasting an ice cream that you used to love in your childhood.

And even if everyone else was drunk enough and loud enough, he knew that they were quiet. The moon was hitting her on her nose, and she was taking his breath away. Tom felt defenceless.

“I had to stop myself from calling, even if I did this one time” she whispered. Tom watched her. “I had all this time to be apart from you and I only could think on the day we’d see each other again.”

Tom watched her carefully. “The boys missed you.”

“Did they?” Y/N grinned.

“Yeah,” Tom gulped. “They missed your laugh around the house.”

She grinned. “Oh, nice.”

“And the path you left with that perfume,” he continued. “And they realized that red m&m’s exist,” he chuckled. “And they missed you because no one would finish my Friends quotes, so they had to learn them.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “And they missed that there was no one leaving books around the house, and they pointed out that we no longer were randomly interviewed so we didn’t have anyone to practice our oscar interviews with.”

She blushed. “They missed all of that, huh.”

“Yeah,” Tom took a deep breath. “But hey, you’re back, right?” Tom gulped. “I mean because they’ve missed you.”

“Should I?” She grinned.

He shrugged.

“You know, I missed them too, but…” She looked around. “So maybe I should stick around by now, so they don’t have to deal with the red M&M’s.”

Tom nodded.

“It’s weird, you know, I wanted to stay for other reasons,” she started.

“Oh, really which ones?”

She shrugged. “Tell me what you want to hear,” she whispered.

Tom bit his lip. “I don’t even know what I want to hear.”

“I found myself, Tom,” she admitted. “But I realized that whoever I am is because of you, you know? And maybe… Maybe I am slightly drunk alright? But you are really the reason that keeps me going, and I realized that you’re really that goodbye I will never be able to say because I… it’s true, I can’t live without you.”

“Maybe it was stupid to be apart.”

“Or maybe it wasn’t,” she shrugged. “I don’t know how you feel about it, but I’m certain, even if I… if I’m dirty now, all stained, even after everything, is it wrong that I still want to give everything away just to be close to you?”

He didn’t say anything. “I almost called you a few times, too. I think I called you once, drunkenly.”

“You did, it was at 4 am, and you left a voicemail, and I’ve gotta admit, I listened to it so many times I ended up memorizing it,” she confessed. “You know? It was… different for me, I didn’t miss you when I was drunk,” she said. Tom frowned. “I missed you in the morning, or when something good happened and I had to tell someone, and none of the people I could tell was you, and I missed your laugh too, I missed having someone annoying the hell out of me when I was working.”

Tom smirked.

“And I… also missed you at random times, and I may have or may have not asked Lizzie to steal a hoodie of yours, she didn’t do it, and I’m glad because that would’ve been very creepy,” she admitted, embarrassed.

Tom laughed. “I almost bought your perfume.”

She looked at the party.

“We should dance,” she suggested.

“Really y/n while we’re…” He chuckled, but she had already taken his hand and dragged him back inside to dance. He knew she loved dancing. So he pulled her closer, and their friends were in a bit state of shock for a bit, watching them have fun.

But they were dancing, sillying around, and drinking. They played some games and had fun, forgetting their past conversations or their past situation. They were like strangers, flirting with each other, dancing with the other.

She spoke with Harry and Sam, she was laughing with Tuwaine. But Tom wouldn’t leave her side. They took shots together, and drinks and beers.

“Hey,” Lizzie had dragged y/n out from Tom’s grip as Harrison had pulled Tom with him.

Y/n drunkenly chuckled. “Yep?”

“How’s it going?” Lizzie asked, handing her friend a glass of water.

Y/N downed the drink and shrugged. “I wanna make out with him and hold his tush.”

Lizzie widened her eyes and laughed. “Alright, you’re drunk drunk.”

Y/N grinned. “A wee bit, yeh.”

Liz sighed. “Y/N, don’t do anything you’ll regret, and now drink more of this,” she filled up the glass with more water.

Y/N downed it again. “Hmm.”

Harrison couldn’t calm a giggling Tom.

“Mate, are you okay?”

“Nah,” Tom laughed. “But she’s ‘eeeere mate.”

Haz rolled his eyes. “Did you talk?”

“A lil’ yea,” but then he walked past Harrison and back to y/n. They were sobering up, as they were talking in the couch. Pure nonsense, really, but they couldn’t keep their hands or eyes off each other.

This definitely wasn’t what they had expected, they probably thought their reencounter wouldn’t have been like this, y/n at least had thought it would be like on a rom-com or a romantic novel, where they would stare at each other and kiss and profess their love, instead they were drunk to their asses giggling to random nonsense.

But they were catching up, in their own stupid way. And it felt like old times, two friends making each other laugh and telling stories. And they didn’t pay attention to anything else, it was like the spotlight was on them and only them.

Her head landed on his shoulder eventually as Tom was showing pictures onset or as she showed him random pictures of her travels.

And sooner or later, people were leaving. And Haz and Liz were probably too busy making out, or god knows where to notice y/n and Tom had walked out of the house to go for a walk.

They were holding hands and ended up in the park near Tom’s house. They had sobered up, enough to be able to talk without dragging their tongue.

The night was quiet, but it felt just like the party. Nothing surrounding them mattered, their eyes were glued to each other. And they felt like home.

And both of them were dying for a kiss,but it wasn’t the time. Or maybe neither were brave enough.

Y/N was the one to break the silence. “I get it if you’re not ready yet,” she started and her voice was soft, Tom had to lean to listen to her. “I wouldn’t blame you, I hurt you and I know that it was too much and I know that even with everything, it’s delicate, I know that it would tear apart your reputation and I know that after all that I’ve done, I have no right in asking you anything but you don’t have to do anything.”

“I’d risk it all for you, you know?”

“But I don’t want you to,” she looked at him. “I like you, and I don’t know if it’s cool if I say it, you know? All night love I’ve tried to bring my lips to yours.”

“And why not?”

“I’m not afraid anymore, but I’ve stopped myself because I don’t know if we should.”

“We should.”

“I love you. But right now, I don’t know if I’m allowed to say it.”

“You are,” Tom said, taking her by the hand.

“But I do, I really do love you,” she admitted. “Maybe we were only a mistake, and maybe it was stupid, but I want to be the best mistake you ever had.”

“You’re not a mistake,” Tom kissed her hand.

“And all this time, I’ve tried to come up with reasons as to why I shouldn’t love you, and many came but the sole reason that I want to love you won, and I just want to build a story, you know? Because you’ve already given me one, and I’ve learned so much, and now I can’t live without the little details you did. And these months apart only confirmed it, you’re the only one I want to be with.And you really don’t have to do anything, just let me love you, don’t push me away, I won’t run away this time, because really, that’s the only thing I desire, I want to love you, and I don’t want any more limits to pull us back.”

Tom didn’t give her an answer, he just leaned over and closed the gap between them. Because at that moment, there were really no limits of desire.

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rightsockjin · 5 years ago

Text

A Little Bit of Stress

Summary: You and Namjoon haven’t had sex in God knows how long because of your mutually busy lives. Namjoon was stressed for the next comeback and you had students to motivate but how were you supposed to focus on your job when all you could think about was your boyfriend naked?

Rating: M

Genre: Smut, Fluff, tiny Angst

Word count: 14,456

Warnings: There is sex in this. Oral. Female receiving. Sexual spanking and playful spanking. Erotica…duh. BIg dick energy. And literal. You can feel it in your guts ladies and gents. Fingering, slight dirty talk. na na na na na na na na na na na na Soft DomJOON! A little angst if you squint. Very fluffy. Namjoon loves reader with all he’s got. Unprotected sex. Multiple orgasms. Nipple play-kinda. Bratty reader. Slight choking. Sensitive neck Joon. Ear eating.

Please don’t repost without permission. I worked really hard on this y’all.

`-admin OperaNickle

Stress. It was the root of nearly all of your problems.

Whether it was your skin breaking out in places it never did before, or his sour mood that seemed to swing from mild discomfort to full on don’t-touch-me-or-I-will-scream, it was getting to you both.

Currently, you were sitting on the warm beige couch that Joon had insisted on buying after you complained about the white one that the apartment had come with. You dropped your coffee all over it and painstakingly scrubbed it for hours with a resulting light brown stain.

Your hands were resting on top of one of the dark brown throw pillows you’d bought soon after, triggering his own purchase of an oversized, red orange, paisley rug to match. It was never ending. He’d purchase something, then you would equal it or outdo him.

You had pointed out one time after he’d bought the most outrageous and expensive thing yet– a dark brown mahogany wood coffee table that looked like an old time-y trunk– that he was furnishing your apartment and that it was a waste of his money. He’d merely chuckled and commented on the sheer amount of time he had been spending at your place since you two had become more than just friends.

“I’m just trying to repay you for all of the food I consume when I’m here. Really, you’re the one who’s losing since you have to put up with me.”

Still, you had made up your mind to somehow repay him for all of the things he continued to buy without your consent. He may be well off –that being an understatement– but he didn’t need to be throwing his money at you. You had a job. A fairly okay one at that. You could buy your own furnishings and feed him when he was over. Another reason for your submission to his lavish, albeit over the top, gift giving was because it had clearly been established as his love language. How could you say no to the way he expressed his feelings?

The slam of the refrigerator door alerted you from the story you had been reading on your phone. Your fingers accidentally scrolled right and closed the chapter you were on, causing the app to suddenly glitch and close. Your heart sank.

You frantically clicked on the app to open it and when the loading screen popped up you knew it was a lost cause. You hadn’t saved the story, nor had you memorized the title or author.

You slumped in your seat letting out an audible groan of pure frustration. You had just been getting to the good part. The part you had started reading the story for in the first place, and just like your sanity, it was robbed at the worst time possible.

“Damn it! Pinche iPhone de la pinche fucking madre, oh my God!”

You let the phone drop with a ringing thud on a spot on the floor. It was slightly muffled by the fibers of the rug, but your voice was loud and shrill. From his place in the kitchen, Joon looked over. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the glare on his face shift into confusion. He leaned on the bar that stood between the living room and kitchen and took two deep, calming breaths.

You were getting on his nerves. You could tell. It wasn’t his fault or even yours. He was constantly under a lot of pressure and recently he’d hit a rut working on one of the verses of his songs. Itt seemed to travel to everything he worked on. The melody he’d been producing that had been flowing out of him like a smooth river; stuck. The lyrics to his next solo song that had been as easy as speaking; cut short. The rap line song that had been his idea; missing only his part now.

The frustration and dissatisfaction had bled into his personal life. To be more specific, you. He’d been at your apartment almost daily. Something about how you usually get him to relax and therefore out of any writer’s block he’d have but now it didn’t seem to be working. On the contrary, you seemed to be making it worse.

It was torturous. To have him in your bed and not able to touch him or sooth him in any way was the definition of your own personal hell. He showered late at night after he got in from work on most days unless it was the weekend, in which case he showered at around nine to sleep a full eight hours or more. Then he woke up on the earlier side of the morning to try and write from the comfort of his – your – “our” couch. That usually lasted until you woke up, made some sort of breakfast that he pecked at then threw away because his lack of inspiration made “food taste bland”.

In a way, you felt inadequate. Your sole wish in this relationship was to make his life easier and you hadn’t been able to satiate him for one single second. You had always prided yourself on being able to calm him down, and this no longer seemed to be one of your strengths.

He even wasn’t as affectionate as usual. Now, you weren’t the kind of person to let things like this get to you. It was a dip. A problem that would eventually turn into a hill. The lower you fall the higher you rise . It was just a fact of life…so why did you suddenly feel like you were walking on eggshells and he was throwing them at your feet?

“Are you okay? Don’t think I’ve heard you curse like that…ever,” Namjoon said, sounding apprehensive.

Your pulse raced as the unfinished scene raced through your mind.

Namjoon caressed your cheek, his fingers rough from working out. His voice, deep. Gruff. Like he’d just woken up.

“Oh baby,” he whispered in your ear. His warm breath tracing the shell. A shiver ran up your spine that he pretended not to notice.

“Do you know how much I’ve missed you,” he kissed your earlobe, letting his tongue dart out for a split second to lav at the tender skin, “Your voice,” he kissed the shell with a slightly open mouth, “ your lips…”

He traced your ear with his tongue, strong from all the rapping and his accurate pronunciation of every single syllable. You couldn’t help but sigh as a blush tracked up your body and settled in your cheeks.

“Joon-“

“Shhhh,” he whispered, still working at your ear, “just relax baby. Let me take care of you. Let me love you.”

“Y/N,” Joon said a little louder, snapping you out of your reverie. Your breath was coming shorter, your own mind trying frantically to fill in what you hadn’t read. Did he kiss her next? Where were his hands? Still on her cheek? Was he as turned on as she was? What did he mean by “take care” of her?

“What,” you said, trying and failing to keep the slight bite from your voice. Regret filled you instantly. It wasn’t his fault that the app was glitchy.

His eyes widened, taken aback by your tone. Great. Now you made it worse. You must have hurt his feelings.

“What crawled up your ass,” he asked, succeeding in keeping his tone playful and soft but it still agitated you.

You felt a lick of fire flicked against your chest. Anger boiled in your stomach. He didn’t mean it. You knew that. Just as you hadn’t meant the snappy way you’d answered, but the monster inside of you was ready to growl.

You bit your lip trying to keep the retort in your throat. If you snapped again, he’d just leave. He didn’t need to be here. He had a dorm and people much nicer to be around. If you wanted to be alone for the next couple of days, it would be the perfect way to do it.

“Is it work still,” he asked again, his features softening once again in concern.

The monster retreated as quickly as it had come. The way he seemed to search your whole body as if it could tell him without your words what was wrong was endearing.

“Yes.”

It wasn’t a total lie. He’d said “still” and yes, it was a part of your major frustration. Not only was your boyfriend being uncharacteristically cold but your students seemed to be trying less and less every class. It was like no one cared to learn English or to study anymore. Perhaps it was you. Maybe it was that you just weren’t as good of a teacher as you had thought.

It had been plaguing you. Every time you walked into class, ready to inspire someone, yet they all seemed to want to run the other way. It was always in the back of your head. What if you lost your job? You would get kicked out of South Korea for sure. You weren’t a citizen. You weren’t married to one… not even close…

If you were sent back to the US, your parents would never let you hear the end of it. The “I told you so” s and reprimanding glares. The way they would no longer be able to brag about how brave and smart you were. It was eating away at you.

Of course, you hadn’t told Joon all of this. His job was enough to keep him up for days without his girlfriend adding to the pile. You knew you should tell him what was really wrong, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You couldn’t tell him how crappy you’d been feeling without suddenly making the problem about you and not him and his much busier and more important life.

It had been steadily building. The anger. The frustration. The guilt. That, coupled with Joon’s complete disdain of your touch, had your own stress going through the roof. you couldn’t even remember the last time he’d made out with you, let alone had any sort of intimate moment.

So there you were. Frustrated. In far too many ways to count and no real way to fix it unless you wanted to do it yourself and honestly, you didn’t have enough alone time to actually try. As a result, you’d been scarfing down erotica fictions about your own boyfriend. The irony was not lost on you.

The only problem was that now that you knew what he was like in real life, all the renditions of him were just a bit off. You found yourself rewriting the fiction as you went, trying to imagine what the real Joon would do in that situation. Some were too out there to even consider reading. Some too perverse even for you. Some were so far from the real life Namjoon that they made you laugh but this one, the one that you had been reading before your stupid phone glitched, was very close to what you would assume Namjoon would act like.

The fake Namjoon was sweet. He was tender and called his girlfriend baby and jagi like he did to you almost exclusively in place of your name. He’d hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek multiple times softly just to remind her that he loved her.. He’d admire her hair and stared at her features as if committing them to his memory for later use. It was so purely Namjoon that it almost felt as if it was really him who had written it. Just for you. So you could have him when he was gone or unavailable. It had felt so real…

“Too many papers to grade?”

His very much real voice jarred you once again from your thoughts. It seemed he’d been doing that a lot lately. Or maybe you were just dozing off too often.

“Something like that,” you answered, crossing your arms over your chest. His oversized hoodie curling under your arms. You brushed a long braid over your shoulder with a satisfied grunt and let yourself slide onto the floor before you. Like his hoodie, you crumpled on the rug next to your phone which lay face down. Namjoon’s face winked up at you from one of the many photo cards of him you had and you couldn’t help but smile back at the miniscule Joon. You couldn’t help it. His smile made you smile. Too bad you hadn’t seen the real one in ages.

Gentle footsteps resonated off the white walls. You didn’t move. Your eyes glued to the ceiling as they got closer and you let your arms fall limply to your side. His face appeared directly in your line of vision, the ghost of a dimple on his left cheek as he half smiled for what felt like the first time in years. He looked down at your unmoving form.

“It’s got you all jelly like,” he said nudging your hip with his toes. You scrunch your nose in distaste.

“Don’t poke me you dork,” you hissed, still not moving, having found a comfortable position.

Namjoon rolled his eyes but sat down next to your head, his legs stretched out before him as he picked up the remote for the TV and went on Netflix. Within seconds you could hear the familiar music of your favorite franchise playing and you jerked unattractively to see.

The coffee table was in the way.

“Is that what I think it is,” you asked him, rolling your eyes to the back of your head to try to see him without moving.

“Why don’t you move over so that you can see for yourself?”

He patted his muscular thighs as an invitation. Did he want you to sit on him or lay your head on his legs?

You straddled him. Your hands rested on his shoulders as his smile grew. He was getting hard. You could tell, but his face remained simply at ease.. As if you were the most gorgeous painting he had ever seen and his sole job was to admire you. The only signs of his arousal were his dilating pupils and the third leg in his pants.

“Mmm,” you hummed looking back at the ceiling, “I’m kind of comfortable.”

You heard him scoff and couldn’t help the slight smile that graced your lips at his disbelief that mingled with amusement.

“Come on baby,” he groaned, “you’re going to turn down my thighs for the floor?”

“I don’t want to move Namjoon,” you argued, breathing deep so that your chest rose high enough to see through the excess fabric on your body. You could sense his eyes on you. Or was that your own desire tainting your perception?

“But… my thighs… and Harry Potter…” he whined. God, you loved it when he whined. Usually when you were being a huge brat and he turned into a puppy. It was delicious.

“But, the floor and my comfort,” you retorted, twitching your open fingers just for fun.

“Jagiyaaaa,” he groaned, grabbing the hand you’d just moved. He pulled on it to get you to move closer. Your head hit the side of his leg that was mostly covered by his black shorts. The small trip had cleared your view to the TV and you smiled triumphantly.

“Thanks Joon, now I can see,” you cackled as he let go of your hand and you turned on your side to see clearly. Professor Dumbledore had just started talking to a small cat with glasses.

For a couple of minutes, you sat in silence and his annoyance seemed to return. Just as the floor was staring to get uncomfortable and you were regretting your stupid choice to stay on the floor and not his thighs, one of his hands dropped down onto your eyes, blocking your vision entirely.

“Joon,” you said stiffly and you tried in vain to pry his… delectable… hands from your face.

“You either lay on my lap and watch the movie with me, or not at all,” he joked as you continued to wrestle with his long fingers.

“How am I supposed to get on your lap if you’re holding me down genius?”

“Oh sorry,” he said, lifting his hand then used both of them to place your head on his right thigh. You begrudgingly settled yourself on his muscular leg, thought internally you were cheering, pulling your braids out from under your body and over his lap. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw him looking at your hair with innocent desire.

“Jagi,” he said running his fingers over one of the braids that nearly touched the floor over his muscles, “can I play with your hair?”

Namjoon ran a hand through your hair, sniffing it.

“Jagi, you smell so good…” he said as he scratched your scalp lightly, “can I play with your hair?”

You choked on your own saliva for a second. You couldn’t swallow and you brought your hand up to cover your lips in case you coughed but the moment passed and your skin flushed as you imagined the short story again.

“Uh…ye-yeah. Go for it.”

Namjoon hesitated but pulled the hair ties off the ends of your hair and very slowly and tenderly began to undo the knots that made up your Dutch braids. It would be frizzy when he was done but you could always throw it up in a bun later. Besides, this was one of those things that you just absolutely adored about Namjoon.

He liked to play with your hair. It was soothing.. When you had mentioned it to Joon once as an anecdote that you enjoyed this action, he’d taken it upon himself to do it when he was sleeping over to help you drift off faster. He’d told you that he had an affinity for grooming people and the fact that you had mentioned that you enjoyed such ministrations made him excited.

His fingers drew small circles near the front of your head as he finished unbraiding one side of hair. Your eyes drooped as he stopped his small drawings and started to undo the other braid.

His fingers were skilled–there was no doubt about it–in many, many, ways, but maybe this was your favorite. You sighed, letting him massage your scalp as the movie played. You let your eyes close as the feeling of his hand on your head lulled you.

After a few blissful moments you realized you were falling asleep and you jumped up, throwing his hand off your head and nearly hitting his chin with your skull.

Joon’s eyes widened with surprise and confusion as he waited for an explanation. You smiled at the man before you cleared your throat and spoke.

“I was falling asleep.”

Namjoon relaxed his shoulder. He had been scared he’d done something wrong,

“That’s okay baby. I just want you to relax,” he said, pushing your head towards his lap again but you pulled his hand away and straddled his lap before stretching your legs behind him and hooking your ankles together.

“What are you doing,” he asked, his breath hitching as you rested your hands on his chest. You leaned into him slowly and rubbed your nose on his before nuzzling against his cheek.

“It’s not fair that I’m the only one relaxing,” you answered, bringing his hand back up to your head and he sighed, tangling his fingers once again. You did the same, running your hand from the nape of his neck and up to his scalp.

He let out a slow breath when you clutched at the strands and buried your head in his neck, running your lips over the skin there.

He had a sensitive neck. Whether it was sensually or just on the daily, he loved neck kisses. So you delivered without complaint.

As you pressed your lips softly on his pulse you couldn’t help but feel elated. Finally. He was letting you help. Finally, he was holding you like he used to. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask “why” as you usually would. You were too scared to shatter the moment. If all you got from him were caresses in your hair and all you got to give were kisses on his neck, then it would all be worth it.

One of his hands began to draw on your mid to lower back and you couldn’t help but curl around his body. Tighter. Closer. If you could suddenly melt into him and become one, you would do it in a heartbeat. But this was enough. For now.

You lightly bit his neck in a couple of different places, letting your tongue lick small stripes in the same place before kissing the saliva away. His breath deepened further. His hold on your body tightened as well, like he was trying to pull you into him. Both of his hands were splayed out on your torso. His fingers dig into the fabric of his hoodie on your body and his head lulled to the side so you could have better access.

Elation filled you to the brim. To have him so pliant under your touch was all you could ask for. Him letting you take care of him; that’s all you wanted.

You used the hand that had a grip on his hair to maneuver his head to meet your mouth. You kissed up the tendon in his neck slowly, taking your time to appreciate his smooth skin.

“Oh baby,” he groaned. His mouth was so close to your ear that his breath grazed the shell. A shiver ran up your spine as you kissed his jaw. You struggled to keep yourself present. It was about him. Not about you.

“Jagiya,” he husked trying to move his head to try to kiss you. You held him firmly in place.

He groaned again, this time in frustration. He wasn’t used to you taking control. It was always him who took the reins but the last thing he needed at this moment was to take care of you.

“It’s okay baby,” you mumbled against his sideburns, “just let me take care of you.”

You planted a soft kiss on his ear. You felt his body convulse. His legs began to fidget under your body. His hips bucked and his hands grasped at your waist as if to still you. It was too late. You could feel his arousal. Slowly, he was hardening as you continued to kiss and suck at his golden skin.

“Wait wait,” he said, ripping you from his jugular and holding you at arms length. His breath was heavy, almost as if he had been running. His pupils were dilated and his skin was flushed from his neck to the tips of his ears.

Sinful. This picture of your boyfriend clearly turned on by the simplest stroke of your lips and fingers, was sinful. And Lord were you a sinner.

You bit your lip, keeping a growl from ripping from your mouth. You could lose control. Maybe you were the one who was riled up. Your pulse thumped against your neck, your chest… your panties… it’s been too long. Much too long for your liking.

“Wait for what,” you complained, clenching and unclenching your fingers in his lush locks. You ground your hips once down , pushing into his lap to create friction. He grunted, squeezing your waist to stop you from moving, but you wiggled and squirmed in his grasp managing to get a couple more strokes against his rapidly hardening erection.

“Hold on,” he spat through gritted teeth, pushing you back and off his lap. The heat in your body seemed to pulsate in your veins as you watched him trying to catch his breath. His shorts were tented. His muscles flexed as if he was trying to stop his body’s reaction, his eyes lidded and his head heavy on his shoulders.

You couldn’t understand why he had stopped you. He seemed to want it as much or maybe even a little more than you did.

Suddenly, fear gripped you like a vice. The heat drained and in that moment, you felt stupid. How could you throw yourself at him like that? He’d asked you to stop and yet here you were pushing.

You pushed yourself away from him a little more and hugged your legs to your chest and placed your forehead on your knees. Tears sprung into your eyes. You tried to keep them quiet but it was hard to breathe. Emotion consumed you. Just because his body reacted did not mean that he wanted what you did.

Guilt flooded your head like a fog as you felt your body begin to shake. Maybe he just didn’t want you anymore. Maybe… maybe the couple of months that the two of you had as more than friends were enough for him. Maybe he realized that you were better as friends. That would explain his lack of affection. His lack of interest. That would explain his rut.

“Whoa whoa, Y/N, what’s wrong? Why are you crying,” you heard his voice ask. His hand patting your head to try to get you to look up. You could feel your hair fanned around your arms and were grateful for the extra cover. You hated crying in front of people and he was no exception. In fact, you hated it even more.

When you gave no answer, you felt him shift closer. He pulled your hair back into a makeshift ponytail . Air hit your burning cheeks but you refused to look at him.

“Oh baby what did I do,” he asked but it didn’t seem aimed at you. You felt him press his own forehead to the back of your head. He nuzzled into your now frizzy hair and placed a gentle kiss. you felt your shoulder shake as you struggled to breathe.

A sob escaped your lips and like a dam, it burst forward. It was ugly, to say the least. You hadn’t realized how much emotion you had been holding back. Hadn’t realized how bottled up you had been. Now you were paying for it.

How embarrassing.

“Y/N no,” he said, pulling at your legs and replacing them with this body. He wrapped his arms around your torso and settled your arms onto his shoulders. He cradled your head against his neck and kept his hand on the nape of your neck

“Shhh baby it’s okay… it’s all going to be okay. Just tell me what I did. I’m so sorry…”

How had you gotten here? How did you end up on the floor of your apartment with tears in your eyes when all you wanted was to kiss his stress away?

You sat together like this for what felt like forever. Eventually, he pulled you back onto his lap. You assumed because it was more comfortable for hi than squatting on his knees.

He didn’t ask again what it was that he did. He didn’t question the tears. Instead, he stroked your hair and kissed your cheeks while you calmed down. You felt guilty. You owed him an explanation but you could feel it in your bones that you wouldn’t be able to speak if you tried.

Finally, you were able to breathe normally but you stayed in his arms for a couple seconds more in case he pushed you off again after he realized that you were feeling ok.

You slowly pulled your head from his neck and searched around on the floor for one of the hair ties that he’d pulled from your hair earlier. There was one near your phone.

You quickly tied your hair up and away from your tear stained face, letting the cool air conditioning hit your skin. Joon watched you, waiting on bated breath, but you didn’t want to talk.

You let your hands rest on your own thighs as his hoodie sleeves covered your hands entirely. You must have looked pitiful. Hopefully you weren’t too red and puffy.

You couldn’t bring yourself to get off of him so you simply sat waiting for him to break the silence. Maybe he had the same idea because he didn’t speak either. He let his hands fall to your hips and pressed softly into the flesh soothingly.

You took a shaky breath trying to give yourself courage but- thank God- Joon beat you to it.

“Baby… are you upset because I pushed you away? I just needed a second to cal down.”

Baby? Would he still call you baby if he didn’t want to date you? Maybe he didn’t know how to end it and so he was trying to keep you from finding out that he wasn’t feeling it anymore. Baby. you remember when he first called you baby and even though it hadn’t been your favorite name to be called from previous lovers, when it had come from his lips, from his heart…it was different. It was praise. It made you feel warm and like you were glowing. Yet, this time, it was like he’d stabbed you with a heated knife somewhere below your ribcage.

“If you don’t want me anymore you should just tell me,” your mouth said. Your voice sounded foreign. As if it had come from someone else. What you said surprised you almost as much as it surprised him. His eyes widened and searched your face.

“Not-not want you,” he stuttered, a laugh barely concealed in his surprise, “are you kidding?”

Ignoring your fear at how you appeared after your pity party, you snapped your head up to look at him. A small smile rested on his lips and the deeper of his dimples showed slightly. While there was worry behind his gaze, there was another emotion, deep within the brown of his eyes. It was mirth. He thought this was funny.

“Namjoon,” you raised your voice, trying to keep your own smile at bay. You swatted at his arms and he feigned hurt.

“What,” he yelled letting uncharacteristically dashing chuckles escape his lips, “You can’t expect me to think you’re being serious.”

“I am being serious-“

“Ahahaha,” his loud and somewhat funny laugh was back and with it your own smile. It felt like you hadn’t heard it in so long. Sure, he laughed when he was on run episodes or when he was with the boys but it seemed like around you, he was always down. It was nice to have him laughing even if it was at you.

“Joon! Stop laughing, I’m not kidding!”

He laughed even harder at that. His laugh reached a level of loudness that made your ears ring but you didn’t care. He looked happier than he had in weeks. You couldn’t help but chuckle along as he laughed until they subsided into snickers. All the while you continuously poked and pushed at his shoulders playfully.

When he was finally composed enough to make direct eye contact, he cleared his throat and widened his pretty eyes at you as he tended to do after he heard a good joke. His smile was glued to his face as he rubbed circles into the hoodie.

“Do you really think,” he couldn’t help but cough as he tried to stop another fit of laughter from escaping, “that I would ever, and I mean ever,” he paused, his fingers slipping down almost deafly to the hem of the hoodie you were wearing, “not want you?”

You blinked at him as his eyes glittered, darkening impossibly so. It was like a switch was flicked and the small amount of lust that you’d seen before was back. Nimble fingers found their way under the oversized fabric on your body. His touch was slightly cold to the skin on your stomach. It sharply contrasted the heat that seemed to rush into your cheeks and your ears.

“Well,” you managed with little to no effort, “it’s been weeks since I’ve so much as kissed you…” His index finger had found the lace of the bralette you were wearing. His thumb hooked under the soft edge and tugged at it slightly. Distracting. He was so distracting.

“So-so I thought maybe it was something I had done,” you said in one breath as his thumb dug a little higher under the elastic that clung to your ribs to keep your breasts in place. Just in the nick of time too. Had he done it just one second earlier, you would have probably become mute for once in your life. A feat only Namjoon could achieve.

“That’s on me,” he said suddenly halting his progressing fingers, his shoulders sagging, “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant lately.”

Namjoon rested his forehead on yours. His eyes shut tight as his apology fell from his pink lips.

He stroked the section of skin under the pad of his thumb, the tip just barely brushing the underside of your breast. You felt a wave of heat rush through your body. Was it getting hot? Should you close the curtains?

“I’ve just been stressed and I didn’t want to blow up on you. At the same time, well… I miss you and I feel the most comfortable around you. I don’t ever feel like I have to pretend that I’m alright. I didn’t mean to make you feel unappreciated.”

When had his other hand found your bare waist? Had his voice distracted you? When had the rest of his fingers ended up under the soft lace of the bralette? Had his thumb traveled further?

“I didn’t mean to…deprive you,” He whispered, forcing you forward to catch his low words. In hindsight, it was a trap. That’s exactly what he wanted but could you fight him when he sounded so delicious?

Your thoughts were cut short when his hand on your chest shifted completely, cupping and gently squeezing. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in surprise. He gave another firm squeeze as his eyes squinted cutely, his high pitched giggle returning, like music to your ears as he leaned even closer and bumped his nose against yours.

“Kim Namjoon,” you gasped but it was eaten up as he quickly connected his lips to yours in a spurt of short, chaste kisses that had you chasing after him. Frustration flooded your veins as he continued to pull away, leaving you wanting more and more the more he gave.

Finally, having had enough, you grabbed his head with both of your hands and tilted it up slightly so you could kiss him properly. Forcing him to slow down. He would be in control soon enough. You should enjoy the power you had while you could.

You forced your lips onto his. The kiss was soft, slow, passionate. He melted into it. He always did like when you took a hold of him in some way or another. Sinful, beautiful noises escaped his lips. His small moans seemed to absorb into your pores. In turn you couldn’t help but answer each and every one of them. He nibbled on your bottom lip for a second, an action that you couldn’t get enough of and he knew, then went right back to sucking on your upper lip.

“Fuck,” you could feel the arousal in your throat. He made you lose yourself. He made you forget where you were, who you were.

“That’s right baby girl,” he groaned into your mouth as you licked his lips, “that’s exactly what I’m going to do to you.”

You moaned. It was embarrassing how easily you could come undone under his ministrations. If you could kiss him for eons, you would. His lips were your favorite bit of him. He was so. Fucking. Good.

“Baby please,” you groaned pulling at his lip with your teeth, “I want you…”

“Shit,” he said, a gurgle of want bubbling from his throat. You shifted, trying to remind him of his hands on your body but what it did instead was remind you of another part of him that seemed almost as excited as you were.

“Jagi,” he hissed, shifting his hips to get the same friction you’d just created, “do that again.”

You pulled your lips from his, a thin strand of saliva connecting you. In any other situation, this would be gross, but in that instant, it only spurred you on more.

“Yes sir,” you joked, winking at him as you rolled your hips against his half hard erection. A melody of noises fell from his blessed tongue. Lust was over taking you. Your eyelids became heavy. Your breath, shallow and hard.

“You know that’s not what I want you to call me,” he hissed at you, his fingers on your chest picking at the nipple that had hardened at some point while you made out. You sighed, your tongue darting out to wet your parched lips but you knew that the thirst you were feeling could not be quenched this way.

“Say my name,” he growled, twisting his finger and pulling at the sensitive skin. You were panting now, slowing your movements on his lap to enjoy his cares.

You whimpered, pushing your chest into his hand, arching your back as you struggled to draw any breath.

“Come on baby girl,” he pressed, his lips brushing against your neck. When had he gotten to your neck?

“Just once,” he begged but you knew he wasn’t asking.

“Make me ,” you gasped as he bit and sucked at your pulse. A smile tugged at your lips as you felt him stop and tense.

He pulled his lips from your neck, a lewd squelch resonating in the empty apartment as he brought his eyes level with you. He withdrew his hand as well without even a warning and you whined, thought you knew this would happen as soon as you started to fight him. It was worth it though. You knew he always worked better under a little pressure.

“Just what I needed to hear.”

He shifted under you, locking your ankles behind his back. He then locked your hands behind his neck. You weren’t stupid. You could see where this was going. Now, Namjoon was obviously very smart. It was obvious. But sometimes, on most occasions, he lacked the common sense to make proper choices.

This was one of those times.

“Hold on tight baby,” he winked, kissing your lips once more before pushing himself up by doing a bench dip with his knees bent. Namjoon had a lot of thigh and arm muscle. This much was true, but was he used to lifting both his body weight and your own? No.

So when he started to shake under the joined pressure, it wasn’t a surprise. You would have laughed but Lord were you scared that he would fall, or drop you or hurt himself. Instead, you struggled to decide if you should be holding onto him for dear life or if you should fling yourself off him to avoid any major injury to either of you.

The decision was taken from you as his left arm bent at a slightly awkward angle and his balance was thrown. Instinctively, you let go of him to brace yourself as the swooping sensation of falling gripped you with fear.

You couldn’t tell exactly how it happened. Your eyes fell shut as you landed heavily on your side. Your elbow hitting first as you reached out to stop your momentum.

“Ow,” you couldn’t help but groan as sharp pain shot through your arm. You heard Namjoon gasp near you but all you could see was stars. You began to giggle uncontrollably as tears streamed down your face.

“Oh your God, Y/N are you alright,” he said, sitting you up with his strong arms. You couldn’t stop laughing. You’d hit your damn funny bone and in all honesty, this was a funny situation. Sex with Namjoon was nothing if not eventful and filled with awkward mishaps.

“I’m fine,” you said through laughter, “i just hit my elbow.”

You blinked away the tears in your lashes, looking up at the dope of a man that you were in love with. Worry was evident on his brows. He looked you over before taking your arm in his hand and examining the red mark where you had landed.

“Does it hurt a lot? Do you think it’s broken,” he asked, touching it lightly but no pain was felt on your end. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the fact that nothing, and you meant nothing- could stop you from taking this man in this very instant, but you couldn’t care less if your arm was broken. Hell, it could have been hanging off by a thread and you’d still want to have a quickie before we went to emergency care.

Could you blame yourself? The man was gorgeous.

This was, in fact, what you were focusing on at the moment. The way that his hair fell into his dark eyes. The way his jaw contrasted with his round cheeks. How his lips were slightly parted as he examined your arm with utmost delicacy. His shoulders. His neck. The veins in his muscular arms. His long… nimble…fingers…

“Joon,” you snapped a bit harsher than you had meant to. His eyes shot up to meet yours, confused and shocked.

“Did I hurt you…” he averted his eyes shyly, “More?”

“Oh honey no,” you laughed, though this time you cut yourself off as you caught a glimpse of his hardening member under the loose shorts he was sporting, “I’m hoping you might though.”

You weren’t much into pain and Namjoon knew this very well, but these words were enough to pull him back at what was at stake. You.

“Are you sure,” he asked one last time, fighting with his own concern and sky rocketing arousal.

“Very sure,” you said, pushing yourself up to your knees to kiss his cheek then ducking your head to kiss his neck.

A shiver ran down his whole body. His eyes closed and squinted. His bulge twitched slightly and you couldn’t stop the smirk on your face. You reached out and ran a single finger over the tented area, drawing little circles as you worked your way to the tip.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered gruffly wrapping his fingers around your wrist and pulling it away from his body. You giggled as he let his eyes fall open, a chastising spark in his pupils. Oh you were so going to get it.

“Close the curtains,” he commanded and you shrugged, standing quickly and nearly yanking the curtains from the hinges.

“Done. Now what?”

“You seem a little eager to please,” He chuckled, standing from his place on the floor carefully. It must have been painful. He looked even harder now.

“I always am. You know I’m a people pleaser.”

He rolled his eyes but nodded at the stairs by your kitchen and with an excited hop, you ran towards them. Joon chased you, playfully swatting at your hips and behind every couple of steps. Your long hair bobbed with every step and your shoulders shook with every giggle. You tried to jump away from him but only half-heartedly. In truth, you loved his hands on your butt and you weren’t going to pass up some playful spanks.

When you made it to the landing, you turned around. Namjoon was slightly shorter than usual due to him being one step behind you, so you took advantage, throwing your arms around his neck as he took the last step. As if he was on the same wavelength, he reached down, grabbing at your thighs and settling them around his hip.

You giggled again, excitement and something a little purer flooded your system. His lips met yours unceremoniously, nipping and sucking light heartedly while you smiled into him. The scent of something flowery hit your nose and you realized he must have used some of his Chanel number five lotion. It strangely suited him well.

Finally, you reached your bed. He climbed on carefully, setting you on your back. He pulled away and blinked at you. Your stomach fluttered at his expression. There was a softness on his features that you never saw with anyone else. A love that you couldn’t quite describe but couldn’t ignore.

He let go of your leg to stroke at your cheek with the back of his hand. Pure, undeniable warmth surged through you at his touch. Your smiles match in intensity and adoration. It was weird. Maybe no one could understand it. How intimate sex truly was to you. Especially with the reputation that your boyfriend had of being a sexual deviant, but the truth was that while he was naturally very attracted to the human body, sex had a special meaning to him. It wasn’t something that he gave away easily. It was an expression of his trust and love. It was nearly never self-serving, and almost always to focus on you and your needs. He was a giver, contrary to popular belief.

You buried your hand in his hair and pulled him to your lips, savoring the taste of strawberry Chapstick as if it would be the last time that you could ever do so. Not even for a breath of air did you pull away as he hooked his thumbs over the edge of the hoodie and slowly began to bunch it up around your chest.

Cool air hit your warming skin, his touch only furthering the experience. Every nerve in your torso was in flames, the pulse between your legs growing stronger by the second. Like it was yelling at you to give it the attention it searched for. Namjoon angled his pelvis up so you could feel his own pulse against your own. His member twitched as he shifted his hips from side to side ever so slight, your legs still wrapped tightly around him. You couldn’t stand the thought of him being any farther from you than a couple of centimeters.

Just as the thought crossed your mind, he pulled away from the kiss, his hands both at the lace edge of your bra now. His gaze darkened as you whined, chasing his sweet lips but he kept himself out of reach with a pleased smirk.

“Joonie,” you groaned trying to pull his head back to you but he only rolled his eyes before prying a hand from his hair almost reluctantly, entwining his fingers with yours and kissing the back of your hand softly. He smiled and placed it over his chest, where you could feel his speeding heart. It pounded against his ribs at the same speed as your own. In sync, in one harmonious song.

You relaxed a bit at the gesture. His heartbeat always had that effect and he never failed to use it to control you in the sweetest way possible. Your chest rose and fell dramatically as he memorized your features.

“Can this come off,” he asked, tugging once more at the fabric of the sweater you stole. You smiled at him knowingly and nodded.

“If you take it back after we’re done, I’m going to be upset,” you half joked as he placed tiny pecks on each knuckle and one last kiss on the back of your hand before he dropped it next to your head and took the hem of the hoodie with both hands.

“Hands over your head,” he said, the slightest bit of authority in his command. Obediently, or maybe it was because you were so keen to please, you shimmed your hands over your ponytail and arched your back to make it easier for him to pull it off.

He was cautious not to get it stuck on your ears, or to pull on your hair. Too many times had he accidentally snagged an article of clothing on an earring or accidentally tangled your hair into the fabric. He’d learned that lesson, as he more than likely learned not to try to stand up with you in his lap earlier.

Once you were free of the fabric, he balled it up, smirked at you, then tossed it over to a pile of stuffed animals that you had set up on a small table. You had one from each tour he had gone to from every country they visited. In case you missed him he’d send you one from wherever he was so you could imagine being with him. It was such a sweet thought and a tradition you looked forward to.

Namjoon kissed your nose faintly, bringing your attention back to him. You gave him a tight-lipped smile, his hands not dilly dallying any further. Instead he rested them directly on top of your breasts, squeezing, just enough to remind you what you were doing. What you were craving.

“ Y/N,” he groaned, looking at the way his hands engulfed the hills on your chest. It was a reminder. You didn’t have huge breasts but neither were they tiny, and the way that his hands seemed to be the perfect size to hold each, only served to recap how big his pretty hands were.

“I love you in lace,” he gasped, thrusting his hips against the heart of your femininity. You choked on a moan. He was so stiff, and the combined warmth of your bodies seemed to radiate into the air.

“You’re blushing, beautiful,” He said against your neck. There was no denying it. Not only could he clearly see the tint of red on your skin, but he could also feel it against his lips.

“Shut up,” you complained, twirling a strand of hair between your fingers as he nibbled on your burning skin. He let a hand trace up to your chin. His thumb parting your swollen lips and pressing against your tongue. He wasn’t fond of you telling him what to do.

“It’s pretty, baby,” he kissed a hickey into your neck loudly, “You know I love it when your skin flushes under my touch.”

There was a hidden question in this statement. He was asking you if this is what you wanted out of this encounter. To turn pink under his hand. It wasn’t new. He’d done it to you on many an occasion and it was as enjoyable to you as it was to him.

“You know I like it too,” you said shyly, glad that he couldn’t see how much blood rushed to your cheeks at the thought of what could happen next.

His manhood twitched against your core, his breath hitched. He could read you like a book, or maybe he had you memorized. Either way, he pulled your legs from his body and pulled you to sit up. In a matter of seconds he had pushed you to the edge of the bed, stood you up and sat you on his toned thighs. Confusion clouded your mind. The other times that something of this sort happened in the bed room, you were across his lap not on it. In all honesty, you weren’t sure how this would work with the way he had positioned you.

Namjoon was a man with a plan. He wasted no time in scooting you back until his shoulders were pressed against the wall.

“Joon, what are you-“

“Lay down,” he said, pushing you forward as he parted his legs. Your head facing towards his feet, your face in the comforter. You put your arms under your head to support yourself as Namjoon pulled your legs around his hips once more.

That’s when it became all clear. Before you could process what was happening, he tugged at your leggings, pulling them down to about your midthigh. Cool air hit your behind and you couldn’t help the shiver that traveled up your spine.

“Pink panties ,” he whispered so hoarsely that it was almost unintelligible, “My favorite color on you, did you wear this for me?”

You took a deep breath, forcing courage into yourself before you said, “No, it’s for my other boyfriend .”

He stiffened at the sarcasm but quickly relaxed knowing that you were just trying to rile him up. One, slender finger drew a small heart on your right butt cheek. You could almost hear his smile as he inhaled. His brain whirling with possibility.

“Cheeky,” he joked, patting the spot he’d just traced on. The sound of skin on skin making your mind blurry with desire.

You snorted, because, come on. That’s a good joke and he chuckled.

“You know what happens when my baby gets mouthy…don’t you baby?”

You hummed, loving your little banter. It was lucky that your face was firmly between your arms or maybe he’d see your mind working to sass him.

“I don’t think that was mouthy,” you shrugged. His index finger found its way under the elastic of the panties on your body. You licked your lips in anticipation but nothing happened. Disappointment began to settle in right before you felt him tug it up then without warning, released it.

The sharp snap of pain panged through the skin on your butt and lower back. You hissed as he pushed into the place the elastic dug. It was a start. A damn good one at that.

“Maybe not, but I get to be the judge of that,” he said plucking the elastic up on the opposite side of your hip, “and I think that you’re mouthy.”

Snap.

You groaned but adrenaline had started to kick in and arousal was pooling between your legs.

“Turn me around,” you mumbled, enjoying the sting against your skin as he pressed into the area your underwear hit, “I’ll show you just how mouthy I can be.”

“Fuck,” he spat, smacking your right butt cheek and yanking your hair just for his own added pleasure. The noise resonated in the large, partially empty, apartment. A gasp escaped your lips.

“Maybe later,” he reasoned, hitting the left one this time a little harder than the last, “first, i want to see my handprint on your ass.”

Two more fast slaps to your right cheek followed by one to your left. You clenched around nothing feeling the burn start to take over. His hand delivered delicious blows each time.

“What-“ spank, “happened to-“ spank, spank, “pink?”

“I’ve decided that you deserve more than just pink. What with that filthy mouth of yours.”

“Filthy,” you mock gasped as he slapped one side multiple times quickly. So quickly, you couldn’t even count and your skin was starting to get numb.

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with my mouth last time it was around your-” three more slaps and then a snap of the elastic of your underwear was enough to shut you up. A moan gurgled into your mouth that you barely held back. Namjoon rubbed the sting into the panging skin. His finger now felt cold against you and you knew you must be peachy at the very least. Cherry red at the worst. Judging by his giggle, you were somewhere in between.

“Don’t laugh at me, you jerk,” you groaned, feeling your face flush as he ran a finger over your clothed slits. You shuddered in anticipation.

“I love how you react to the simplest touches,” he mumbled, running his finger over and over the damp underwear, “You’re a little wet baby.”

You could tell he wanted you to say something but you couldn’t bring yourself to voice a single thing. When you said nothing he continued.

“Maybe we should get rid of these,” he slipped a finger under the side for a second, before pulling it out and grabbing your hips.

“Or maybe,” he shifted himself pushing his manhood against your center, “we could just push these aside…”

He pulled you back onto him, the friction heavenly to you both. A sinful, melodious moan left his lips. He was getting desperate but if you knew your boyfriend, he could draw this out for much, much longer and you…you were in no rush.

“Or maybe,” you countered pushing yourself up and away from the bed sheets, “you could put my ‘filthy’ mouth to some use,” you threw a cautious look over your shoulder only to see his mouth hanging open in surprise and his fluffy cheeks flushing a pale pink.

“What’s wrong baby,” you asked with a smirk looking down at your touching centers then back at his eyes, your lip between your teeth, “cat got your tongue?”

His eyes sparkled as he looked between you where you connected through fabric. You could almost see him salivate. You’d heard of this before your relationship with Namjoon. You’d heard of men loving to please a woman. You had heard of the way some men drooled at the thought but never had you experienced it. That is, unti the first time Namjoon disrobed you and he’d licked his lips and buried his face between your legs.

And here it was again. That look. Feral. Primal. Thirsty. It was, so absolutely sexy. But this was not what you had in mind.

In an instant, Namjoon rolled you off of him, shifting himself on his hands and knees. You adjusted yourself against the pillows of the bed, your chest heaving as he tore his shirt from his body as if it was burning him. He threw it on the floor next to the bed then turned his attention back to you, “Take it off.”

“Take what off,” you asked genuinely not sure but his quirked eyebrow made you swallow the little saliva in your mouth and strip your bralette and underwear in a matter of seconds. You weren’t in the mood to be deprived of an orgasm after a couple of weeks hiatus.

You propped yourself up a bit higher, your legs squeezed shut in slight embarrassment. You crossed your arms under and slightly over your breasts to cover your pert nipples. It had been a while, and it kind of felt like it was the first time he’d seen you naked even though, in the back of your mind, you knew he’d seen it plenty before.

Namjoon’s chest rippled in the dim light, his arms, so toned and silky, flexed as he held himself up, devouring every inch of skin he could see. His tongue darted out to lick his plush lips. A shock of thrill went directly to your core. You had memories of that tongue in other places.

“i’ve missed you baby girl,” he said, grabbing your ankles and pushing them apart so he could take a look at what lay in between. When his eyes landed on your slit, it was like he’d been sedated. His shoulders relaxed, his jaw slacked and his elbows buckled slightly.

“Finally,” he grumbled, jumping at your body. He kissed your lips passionately, ripping your arms from your chest and entwining his fingers with yours to pin them to the bed on either side of you. You spread your legs even wider to accommodate his torso.

He pressed his hips into your sex. The texture fabric of his shorts rubbed up against the little nub that was begging to be touched.

You moaned into the kiss as his tongue found its way into your mouth. You were hot. So hot. You were burning up. Maybe it was the way that you could feel his erection so firmly between your legs. You couldn’t tell. But you were so freaking hot.

“Fuck baby,” he groaned against your chin, kissing down your neck sloppily. Trails of saliva followed as he made it to your chest. He wasted no time in taking one of your eagerly awaiting nipples in his mouth. He lightly nibbled and sucked on the sensitive flesh. His tongue was weirdly talented, even though he hadn’t had many girlfriends before you.

You usually attributed it to his rapping skills as he had so eloquently put it one time when you, in the heat of the moment, asked him how he could possibly be this good.

“You’ve heard of what guitarists can do with their hands? This is what rappers do with their tongues.”

He pulled away from your chest, kissed the nipple, before he blew on it just a tiny bit. He drove you crazy and he knew it. Your eyes rolled into your head. God, you missed him.

“Joon…if you don’t touch me, I swear-”

“Baby,” he cut you off again, “I think it’s been too long. You’re forgetting who,” you looked down as his hands grabbed onto the inside of your thighs, “is in charge.”

You opened your mouth to protest but his own mouth dove right into the folds between your legs kissing with an open mouth and you shut your lips instantly.

“Fuck,” you said, trying to close your legs but his strong arms kept you open, vulnerable before him.

He lapped at your clitoris with just the very tip of his tongue. He drew shapes and letters. He must have spelled words even, in hangul by the way that his tongue was moving and you just lay there, shivering under his touch.. He really was a talented rapper if what he was doing was any indication.

He mumbled something against your core, and it sent a vibration of pure delight through your body. You clenched around nothing and let a whine escape your lips. This was not supposed to be about you, but were you a horrible person for suddenly not caring?

“Wh-what,” you asked, as waves of pleasure surged through your body, his plush lips clamping around the little nub between your legs and sucking gently.

He withdrew his lips with a lewd squelch and you wrinkled your nose at it. Disappointment surged through you before his voice did.

“I said,” he licked a long, wide stripe from bottom to top, his eyes firmly on your shocked and blissed out face, “so good.”

You had no words. You floundered for any semblance of coherent sounds but nothing came to mind. How did sentences work again? Did your voice come from your lips?

You bit the corner of your bottom lip as he gently kissed around your labia. He let go of your thighs, and used his index finger and thumb on both hands to spread you open. His eyes were greedy, excited. It was like someone had offered him some cotton candy or made him some of that expensive drip coffee he liked. He looked, hungry.

Without your response, he once again kissed the now very visible and pulsating nub that was filled with blood from arousal. The sensation made your shoulders both relax and tense at the same time. Noticing your reaction, he chuckled, and stuck his tongue out sharply. Without hesitation, he licked back and forward a couple of times. Your legs shook and you had the instinct to clamp them closed but you forced yourself to keep them apart and bent.

Within seconds, you felt your climax nearing. After a few rounds in this same position, he’d figured out exactly what to do to make you finish. You could still remember telling him when he had first suggested trying this particular act that no one had ever made you finish from just eating you out and not to feel bad if you didn’t climax, but he was determined and after a first time “failure” -which was relative because what he had done felt great but he felt it wasn’t a success until you came- he set himself to research and was eventually, the first man to make you come in this way.

It was safe to say that it had gone to his pretty little head. Maybe this was why he liked to do this so much. It was something purely his. Something he could proudly call himself a pioneer of and he was so damn good at it.

“Joonie,” you whimpered, pulling on his hair tightly so he would slow down, but it was like he knew, and he probably did know, that you were close.

He doubled his efforts, holding you apart, vulnerable to his talented tongue. You threw your head back. The pleasure was almost too much. Too powerful. The thought that it was Namjoon between your legs making you see stars was almost enough to push you over the edge.

“Come on gorgeous. i know you want to cum,” he mumbled quickly, going back to the motion he had before with a slight bit more pressure.

Maybe it was because he pointed it out, or maybe it was because you really were needy, but you did. You felt your body tense almost to the point of discomfort then like a dam filled with water, the pleasure burst, leaving you moaning his name as he lapped at the wetness that still coated your womanhood.

“Namjoon please oh God,” you whined, trying to pull him off but he wasn’t slowing down.

Overstimulation was quickly taking over. Your body shivered violently. This time, your legs did snap closed on his head but he didn’t seem to care. He let go of your labia and pried your thighs apart, sucking your clitoris into his mouth harshly.

Tiny whimpers escaped your lips. It was like you were watching it happen rather than having it done to you. You couldn’t think. Your body acted of its own accord, reacting to every lick and slurp of your boyfriend’s perfect mouth as if on autopilot.

“Namjoon, it’s too much ,” you begged but he only chuckled and brought a hand closer to your center.

“I can’t have my sexy girlfriend thinking that I don’t want her anymore,” he said against your skin, “gotta show you how much I need you, baby girl.”

You gasped, as a finger circled your entrance. The pads of his fingers were a little rough and the texture felt amazing against your sensitive middle. Without warning, he dipped the finger in. You were so wet at that point that his finger met no resistance and he instantly plunged a second finger after it.

As if he had been trained his whole life for pleasing just you, he found your g-spot near instantly. A small scream of gratification left your swollen lips as he pressed against it over and over and over.

It wasn’t long before you were at the edge again. Delirious. Desperate for release once more. The pain of over stimulation, long gone and replaced by hyper awareness and desire.

“I think I’m going to-“

Stolen from your lips were the words as you clenched around his finger and twitched under his touch. This time, he helped you ride it until goosebumps decorated your skin and when you tugged at his hair once more, he withdrew his head and his hand from your abused core.

It was a couple of minutes before you were able to properly breathe. Your chest heaved. You could have just ran a mile in six minutes flat with the exhaustion that filled your bones to the brim. When you could finally think clearly, you pushed yourself up and looked for your boyfriend.

He was waiting patiently on his knees between your own. His face, from his nose to his chin, glistened with the wetness that could only come from between your legs. His chest was bare, and a light sheen of sweat seemed to coat it. He too was breathing heavily but you could tell buy a single glance at his shorts, that he was nowhere near done.

“Nam-mjoon,” you said, your voice wavering, earning you a giggle from the cute boy before you, “I was supposed to suck you off. Not have you eat me out…”

Your arms felt heavy as well as your legs. If you let yourself, you could fall asleep right then but you forced the tiredness away as you looked at Namjoon’s puppy eyes.

“Do you want me to,” you asked, bracing yourself for his answer. This might be the worst blow job you ever give but if he wanted your lips around him, you would happily oblige.

“Y/N, you look like you could fall over at any second. i think having you fall asleep around your co-“

“Joon!”

He rolled his eyes at your outburst. you always felt a bit strange about him being vulgar when it came to certain body parts but he usually ignored your please and said what he wanted. Today was no different.

“…cock…would be a blow to my confidence not to my dick.”

You giggled at his joke and sat up a little straighter. Usually, you would fight him. you hated not reciprocating and especially now that it had been so long since you had a proper night together but there was a real possibility that you could hurt him so you didn’t push on the blow job and made a mental note to award him one at a later date.

“Okay, fine…but can we at least…” you paused, feeling a blush rush to your cheeks at what you were going to ask.

“At least?”

“Don’t make you say it,” you begged, getting on your hands and knees and crawling over to sit on his still, annoyingly clothed lap.

He helped you settle on his legs and held onto your thighs to keep you close. you could feel his erection as hard as ever. It must be painful at this point. You ground your hips just once and he winced. Yeah, he was far too gone.

You reached up to his lips and wiped some of your own slick from his skin with your thumb. You felt a bit bad at how covered he was. You wiped the thumb on his shorts at which he frowned before you reached up and kissed him softly. The taste of you on his lips was strange. You could never really tell how you felt about it but if one thing was for sure, you were lucky to have such a wonderful boyfriend.

You managed to lick and kiss most of the moisture from his mouth before he spoke again.

“Can I make love to you?”

You blinked up at him, surprised. At this point, maybe you shouldn’t have been. He knew you like the back of his hand, or maybe even better than that. You mentally thanked him for saving you the awkwardness of asking for it and nodded your head vigorously.

His dimples made an appearance as he very suddenly pulled you towards him and on to your back. You squealed, giddy to finally feel him inside you after so long. He let go of your legs and quickly, and might you add, very ungracefully, pushed his shorts and underwear off in one swoop.

His shaft sprung up. The tip was a deep red and it leaked precum. You couldn’t help but lick your lips. It was thick and long. The kind of thing that you would expect to see in art or in paintings. It was ethereal. Delectable. How could you have let yourself be deprived of this view for so long?

In an instant, you remembered the feeling of him inside you and your head reeled. If you remembered correctly, this was going to be a stretch.

Namjoon climbed over you in the blink of an eye. You could tell he was excited because, well it was just something you knew. It was radiating from his body like an aura.

“Do you think you’re ready,” he asked, kissing your forehead, then your hairline, ever so gently. He peppered kisses all over your face as a smile graced it. You grabbed a hold of his face in both hands and forced him to kiss your lips, which he did without argument.

“You are too cute Joonie baby,” you mumbled against his lips before you let a hand trail down his toned chest, over his muscular but undefined abs and finally wrapped around his hardened member.

His smile faltered for an instant, his erection twitched in your hand. You gave it a couple of slow and lavish pumps. You could see the fine hairs on his body stand on end at the sensation and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“You’re killing me here,” he choked out through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry Joonie,” you lied, keeping your pace slow, “I just want to make sure that you’re ready as well.”

You took his bottom lip between your teeth and sucked at it as you squeezed a little tighter around his rod still at the unbearable pace you had set. His body reacted accordingly. Shiver after shiver ran down his spine and his chest convulsed. Had he not jerked off either? He was so wound up.

“Baby girl, please just let me get in there… I can’t take much more of this,” he whispered against your jaw, leaving a wet kiss before connecting his eyes to yours. you smiled kindly and aligned him with your entrance.

As soon as you touched his tip to your middle, his shoulders seemed to tense further and you let go, letting him take over. As if he had read your mind, he gently began to push himself deeper. Was it payback for jerking him off so slowly, or was he scared to hurt you? He was inching his way in so incredibly slow. you could feel every vein in his member, every stroke against your walls. It was both horrible, and amazing all at once.

Finally, he bottomed out and despite how wet you were from your two orgasms, you felt tears prick your eyes. It had definitely been too long and you weren’t just talking about his member.

You could feel it in your stomach and he pushed down your lower abdomen just so you could feel it better. This was another thing he was proud of. No one had gone as deep as him. He was by far, the longest and girthiest you had ever had and he always made sure you remembered it.

A groan left his lips as he shifted his hips so you could feel him move inside of you. He wiped a tear away from your cheek and kissed the trail it had left behind.

“You feel that baby girl,” he asked gently, “that’s all for you. Only for you.’

He began to pull out at the same pace that he had impaled you and you whimpered, wanting…no needing more. He was almost fully pulled out before he slowly began to push back in.

Namjoon grabbed the hand that had been jerking him off and replaced his hand on your stomach with it. Then that hand came up and gently gripped around your neck. Your heart skipped a beat.

“How does that feel baby? Does it hurt?”

“Yeah,” you nearly screamed and he stopped mid thrust. You could see the fear in his eyes as he looked all over your face for some sign of what he had done wrong.

“It hurts because you’re going way too slow you doof,” you clarified, and he instantly relaxed.

“You scared me, Y/N.”

“Joonie please move faster,” you begged, ignoring his previous statement.

He sighed which shook a little as your walls contracted around his length. His grip on your neck tightened with your muscles and a shock of pleasure ran through your stomach. You let an unsteady moan escape your lips which was swallowed up as he leaned down, his sex still only about a quarter of the way in, and traced your lips with his tongue.

You clenched around him once again. He bit your upper lip roughly, then kissed it and your nose lightly. It was so confusing. The way he could be sickeningly sweet and at the same time be torturing you with his hands and his length. The mix of emotion made a fog in your head that kept you from seeing what was coming next.

“I’ll move my love,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. Goosebumps erupted all over your body. You let your eyes shut to better appreciate all of the pleasure you were receiving , intoxicated with the scent of his skin, and the way that his voice floated into your ear.

“If you say my name,” he whispered, licking the cartilage nearest his lips.

You knew it would come to this. You’d been too mouthy. Too self-righteous. It had been a long time since we’d shared a bed this way and you let your eagerness and desperation get the best of you. Now, you were truly going to have to pay for it. That is, if you kept up your refusal to give him what he wanted. Would you really want to risk getting denied an orgasm just to keep up your brat routine?

An mortified blush covered your cheeks up to your forehead. It wasn’t that it made you uncomfortable. It was a turn on to you too, but there was something embarrassing about calling him something so deeply fetishized. It sounded strange coming out of your mouth and made you cringe, but you knew that if you just gave him what he wanted, we would both be satisfied.

“Yes daddy,” you whimpered.

It happened in a millisecond. His hand squeezed around your windpipe, he bit down on your ear and he thrust his hip hard against your core.

A muted cry was ripped from your vocal cords. His tip hit just as deep as it had the first time. You could feel it in your stomach. You never really thought that could be possible but here you were, and you couldn’t have been more wrong.

Like a switch was flipped, he pounded into the wet mouth of your arousal, the slickness helping to keep it mostly painless. Still, the burn couldn’t be stopped as he stretched you farther than any fingers could. Moans fell from your lips like prayers. Namjoon grunted every time his hips met yours. A lewd clapping bounced off the walls.

There was no stopping him now. It was like a magic word and you knew that as soon as you’d said it, there was no going back.

Namjoon used the hand not around your neck to hold himself up and over you. Beads of sweat had started to form on his hair line with the effort he was exerting. A sexy wrinkle formed between his eyebrows as he squeezed his eyes shut. His breaths were coming out hard, and loud. He sounded like he was running a race and he was pushing himself to the end. It was music to your ears. Sounds more appealing than any symphony or singer you had ever heard.

Maybe you had zoned out, because when you zoned back in, your voice was mixed in with his. His real name was mixed in with shouts of “more” and “don’t stop”. You knew that later, after it was all said and done, the noises you were making would haunt you, but in the moment, you pushed away your insecurities and focused on the feeling of being full.

“Yes,” you gasped as he hit your g-spot, repeatedly on the way in and out. Gratification was flowing through you like a river.

“Yes what Jagi,” Namjoon asked, readjusting himself onto his knees so he didn’t have to hold himself up.

He grabbed onto one of your breasts and gave it a light squeeze before he flicked the nipple. Question forgotten, your breath caught in your throat but he abandoned your chest in favor of something lower. He traced lines into your stomach. Designs he’d come up on the spot that you’d have to remaster into a design of some sort if you still remembered them after you were done. It was beautiful. The way that you made love.

Beautiful, how you mixed together. A beautiful color that couldn’t be store bought or mass produced. It was you. Purely, and unequivocally you.

You choked as his wandering hand found your clit once more, rubbing tight and precise circles. It was too much, and he knew this. His fingers on your pulse point, his index on your sensitive bud, and his member inside you. It was everything you could ask for, and when your body froze, tense from his caress, it was no surprise to either of you.

“Namjoon,” you gasped as your walls convulsed around him, his speed even. It was getting harder to breath and it wasn’t because of the pressure on your windpipes but because once again, over stimulation was setting in. You winced as he pumped in and out at an inhumane speed. It was crazy. How could he hold himself off this long.

“I’m almost there baby, where do you want me,” he asked, his voice hoarse and deep and gravely.

“In-in me… I want you in me Joonie,” you panted.

Was it slightly inconvenient to have his ejaculation inside you? Yes. Was it nice to be so wet after we had sex? No. Did you give a single crap in that moment? No. No,you didn’t. All you knew was that you needed him. You needed to feel like you were his and like before, this was something that only he had ever done to you and it made it special.

As if that was all that he was waiting for, Namjoon stilled. His erection twitched inside you and then he came. He spilled into you. Hot and thick. you couldn’t help but let your eyes roll back into your head as his ejaculation dripped from your entrance. You squeezed around him just to try and help and were rewarded with a grunt of satisfaction.

“Fuck Y/N,” he huffed, removing his hand from your neck and your core to help steady him. His length had started to soften and you could tell that, much like you, he was exhausted.

He pulled out, wincing as the cold air hit his member.You, in turn, grimaced as his cum dripped down your thighs. You’d have to wash the bed sheets today.

Namjoon laid down beside you. Your body bounced as he adjusted his body. He draped an arm around your waist, cuddling into your side. Your bodies stuck together. Sweat, and well…other liquids clung to your skin.

You allowed yourself to relax into him for a couple of minutes. Your breathing pattern evened before you sighed happily and pushed him off of you. Namjoon whimpered as you carefully swung your legs over the edge of your bed. The uncomfortable feel of something flowing out of you made you shiver.

“Where are you going,” he asked in Korean. His tone whiney and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at him over your bare shoulder. His eyes were big and a small frown decorated his lips. He was too cute to handle.

You planted a kiss on his frown before you turned back to the edge of the bed to press your legs together. Maybe it would stop the ejaculate.

“I need to shower,” you reasoned, bracing yourself, knowing you would have to run to the restroom if you wanted to avoid having to mop the floor again.

“Can’t we cuddle for a little while,” Namjoon begged but you just shook your head dreading what you knew was to come.

“After we shower, yeah.”

You felt him sit up behind you. He gently kissed your shoulder and wrapped his strong…muscular…arms…

You blinked at his muscles around you like a deer in headlights but shook your head. You could still feel how tired your muscles were from what you had just done. You couldn’t do it this soon again.

“Can I at least shower with you,” he asked, nuzzling into the back of your neck.

“Yes, of course,” you said, reaching behind yourself and scratching his head. You felt him, rather than saw him, relax against your back and you smiled.

“Are you less stressed,” he asked you and you sighed.

“I feel alright, Joonie. Could you tell I was really stressed?”

You turned to look at him. He had a knowing smirk on his face that made your blood boil and embarrassment pool in your belly. He grazed his lips over the damp skin that spanned under his finger and when he spoke, it was against the nerves on your body that stood on end for him.

“You talk in your sleep sometimes,” he said matter-of-factly. You sighed. Given away by your subconscious.

“Oh.”

“Besides, I have been watching you grade papers. You get this cute little fold between your eyebrows when you’re thinking too hard,” he rested a finger against your forehead where he indicated and massaged it in little circles. You let your shoulders fall. Who did you think you were kidding?

“I see… well I’m feeling a little better. Hopefully I can get some ideas to get my students to be more interested now that I’m not so wound up.”

“You’re a fantastic teacher,” Namjoon reasoned stroking your slightly messy hair, “you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah… I know you’re right,” you sighed letting a comfortable silence fall between you. Your brain was buzzing once again but this time it wasn’t stressful. It was with ideas for your classroom. You smiled, feeling a weight being lifted from your shoulders.

“I’m sure I’ll come up with something,” you shifted the conversation, “what about you? Any sudden inspiration for your lyrics?”

He didn’t speak and his chest tensed behind you. You felt like you had popped the bubble you were in. you should have kept your mouth shut.

“Yes actually,” he said but it didn’t feel directed at you. Within seconds, he’d let go of your body and was up, pulling on his boxers and looking for his phone. He frantically pulled up the notes app on it and typed furiously.

The shock quickly melted into amusement. You giggled at how his fingers slid over the glass screen. His focus on his cell.

“Well I’m glad I could help,” you said, finally standing up. you felt the liquid inside you shift and with a panicked last look at your inspired boyfriend, you ran to the restroom on the first floor.

“I’ll be in the shower. Have fun writing,” you yelled.

You thought you heard him say something but it was too muffled for you to understand. You didn’t wait for him to meet you in the bathroom. Instead, you jumped in,washing between your legs thoroughly and scrubbing your skin. When you were done, Namjoon was sitting on the floor of the living room. His laptop, journal and phone spread out on the coffee table. He had his airpods in and he was bobbing his head to something you couldn’t hear.

You didn’t interrupt. Instead you looked over his makeshift workstation and smiled. His journal was turned to one of the pages of lyrics that he’d been stuck on for months. Fresh ink rested on the browning lines and my heart soared. Turned out that our bad moods and mutual slumps were directly related to our lack of sexual life. Duly noting that fact, I kissed the top of his head and made my way back upstairs to get my bed sheets to wash, a smile plastered on my lips.

#kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon #kim namjoon imagine #bts #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon fluff smut

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hold-my-hand-kuroo · 5 years ago

Text

soulmates

i can’t believe i woke up two hours earlier to write for some 2d boy’s birthday-

this isn’t a soulmate au i’m sorry

pairing: shirabu x reader

Shirabu Kenjirou doesn’t believe in soulmates, because by extension, that’d mean that things such as luck and miracles and even Santa would also exist. He likes to think that his hours of studying and sheer grit are the reasons that he was accepted into Shiratorizawa. What he lacks in talent, he’ll make up with his efforts and his efforts only; he doesn’t need something silly like magic, especially when said magic couldn’t come through when he needed it the most.

He replays the memory of Karasuno’s 10 over and over again in his mind, even after the third years have said their goodbyes. He remembers it all, the fatigue in his body, the lead of his legs, and the noise of the ball thudding up and down on their side of the court. He wonders what would happen if magic had really existed. Would he have been able to react faster then and save the ball?

Shirabu doesn’t like mulling over the past since it’s a waste of his time, but sometimes when he’s studying by himself, too tired to think straight, he finds himself zoning out. It’s not good for him, and he knows it, focusing too keenly on all his weaknesses and trying to find a way to fix them, but he can’t help it. Because he doesn’t believe in miracles, he only has himself.

If he’s feeling a little generous, though, maybe he’d consider you a little magical.

You’ve seen him around on campus, always studying alone by a corner and wearing a terrible scowl when someone got too loud or tried to pester him. Between majoring in sciences and the volleyball club, you realize two things: he’s an incredibly hard worker, and you’ve definitely been looking at him too much to know these things without ever having a proper conversation with him. There was just something admirable about the way he carried himself and how he’d always be working hard without complaining about being tired.

He’s quite the frequent customer at the cafe where you part-time at, and you’re not surprised. Someone with his lifestyle would need gallons of coffee to keep going, but you don’t think he’s there for the coffee. Perhaps it’s the quiet atmosphere where he can study. Maybe he’s escaping from a particularly loud roommate, or maybe the library seats are all taken. You don’t know for sure, but what you do realize is that he definitely at least knows of your existence with his short and curt nods for greeting. If you got lucky, he’d give you a quiet “Hey.”

He gets you worried. Sometimes, he’d be hunched over at his seat but without the usually concentrated furrow of his brow or his moving pen and graceful, yet quick flip of textbook pages. He’d just be staring blankly at the table, an expression unreadable, and he’d stay like that for moments at a time before shaking his head in frustration, pushing himself to his limit to go back to work. It’s hard to watch, and you almost wish you could do something, but you don’t. Not when he knew you just as the barista that went to the same university. You’d hate to pry.

It’s not until on one particularly dreary day that he walks in without so much as a nod that you realize the problem is larger than you feared it was. By now, he’s used to just handing over his cash, knowing well that you memorized his regular order, and as you turn around to grab a mug, you hear him clatter into a seat in the corner, sighing. The burst of freak courage that rushes through you almost makes you walk right up to him and ask what’s wrong, but you steel yourself. He hated being disturbed out of nowhere.

You place his coffee gently on a tray, sliding a piece of tiramisu on it as well before walking quietly over to his table. He doesn’t seem to take notice of you, hand running through his hair and staring a little bit too hard at the formulas taunting him on the paper. Silently, you leave his order on the table and leave without a word.

By the time Shirabu realizes that his coffee has long gone cold and that there’s an extra plate that he doesn’t remember paying for, you’re already gone, leaving your shift to someone else. He sits there, confused. Then, he spots a little slip of paper and reaches for it.

“You’re always working so hard, so I’m sure it’ll pay off. Don’t worry too much about setbacks, and remember to breathe! Also, I’m not sure if you like sweets or not, but don’t worry about the tiramisu. It’s on the house!”

Shirabu isn’t the kind of person to enjoy desserts; the sugar makes him crash sooner than he’d like, and it isn’t exactly good for his health. He’d much prefer something salty over something sweet, but after thinking a bite, he reconsiders. He doesn’t like it that much, but for some reason, he finds himself eating all of it. It’s good, but not because of the taste. He wants to know exactly why, but he’s reminded once more that he has a math examen tomorrow along with a paper due.

The following afternoon, Shirabu walks into the cafe and spares you not one word, but four.

“Hey,” he murmurs, looking away. His cheeks are slightly tinted, and he hopes you don’t notice. “Thanks for yesterday.”

ii.

Shirabu doesn’t believe in magic, because it’s unexplainable and unreliable. You’re close to half-magic because while you’re not entirely unreliable, your effect on him is absolutely unexplainable. It throws him in for a loop.

The first instance of your unpredictability is when the two of you are paired as lab partners. That gets things going between you two, exchanging numbers and talking more frequently than usual. Now instead of, “Hey,” he says, “Good morning,” “Good afternoon,” or, “Are you still up?” to you. It’s exciting, and you hope that he considers you a friend at the very least.

On Shirabu’s part, he finds that your energy is a good counter to the tired mornings he so often faces, and when you give him your signature smile, he feels his heart buzzing. He reasons that it’s because you’re such a breath of fresh air; it’s not often that he lets someone loud but not annoying into his life considering that his past experiences with energetic people were subpar. He likes being lab partners with you because you do your fair share, and he knows he can count on you during the rare times he needs help, and vice versa. You’re like the perfect fit for him, covering for his weaknesses, while he covered for yours.

He used to hate late nights of doing work since his eyes always got tired from staring endlessly at a screen of words and nothing more, but now they’re not so bad. He’ll find himself calling you if he knows you’re up, enjoying the sound of your whispers, as you’re afraid to wake your neighbors up at the dead of night. Sometimes the two of you exchange playful banter, and he’ll feel the weight being lifted off his shoulders, even if temporarily.

He enjoys a lot of things about you, and he almost finds it strange how even the smallest things you do get him a little bit happy. Just a little. Whenever you’re proofreading his essays, he finds that your comments, while still very helpful, are filled with energy. He used to think that exclamation marks were just a way to convey false energy in work and formal emails, but when he sees his paper littered with just hundreds, maybe even thousands of them, he can’t help but crack into a small smile over how silly it is. If you leave small doodles on the margin of his papers from when the two of you study together during lunch breaks or in between classes, he’ll always look at them fondly for a while before filing them neatly away.

He knows you’re busy as well, but after the first time he sees you wait for him outside of the gym for practice to end with coffee in hand, he begins to anticipate your appearance more and more. He likes how you don’t mind that he walks out disheveled, sweaty, and maybe cranky depending on how practice went, and his heart will always flutter if you comment on how good his sets were. You don’t know a thing about volleyball, and he’s probably aware of the fact, but when words like, “Cool,” or “Graceful,” flow out of your mouth, he thinks he must be going crazy. He feels like Goshiki getting all happy over just small praises and desperately wishes that he could stop being so lame.

“You don’t have to come by so often, you know,” he says one day even though he wants to ask you to stop by the gym every day. “You must be busy too, right?”

“I just study outside the benches while I’m waiting for you, so it’s not like I’m wasting my time,” you respond back, walking with an extra spring in your step. Whenever Shirabu walked you back to your apartment, you were always on Cloud 9.

He doesn’t say anything after and opts to revel in the comfortable silence that sits between you too. He wonders if you like being with a guy like him, someone so serious, so boring, and so critical of others. He’s blunt about almost everything, and he’s the driest texter alive according to Tendou. A part of him worries that you’ll get bored with such a bland and severe personality, and he’s not sure if you’re hurt by his directness. He thinks about other people that could probably serve as a better companion, and when he starts realizing how long the list is, he feels a bit of fear in his stomach.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, quick to pick up whether or not Shirabu’s silence meant content or discomfort. He appreciates it a lot.

“No,” he says quickly. You take it as a sign to drop the topic. He’d tell you later if he felt like it, and if he didn’t, it wasn’t a big deal. You’d help him cheer up without knowing what was wrong anyways.

“Today, there was this customer that walked in,” you start again, moving your arms slightly for emphasis in your story. Shirabu finds it endearing, but then he catches himself thinking it and comes to a frightful realization in the middle of your story.

Magic doesn’t exist, but love does. Shirabu doesn’t understand either of them.

iii.

In another world, if Shirabu did believe in magic and wished for his other half, he thinks they’d be exactly like you.

Still, he’s not entirely convinced that magic in this world exists, no matter how many times you make him watch all the Harry Potter movies with you. He needs a miracle to help him put into words how much he loves you because he thinks that by now, he should’ve said the L-word a long time ago, or at least enough to match how often you say it to him. It never loses its effect, though, and it always makes him flustered.

“Love you,” you’ll say to him randomly when the two of you are alone, and his face will go beet red.

“Me too,” is all he’ll be able to manage, but he wishes so desperately that he can return those same words one day.

You don’t really need him to verbalize it, though. He’s the type of person who shows his affection physically whether it’s running his fingers through your hair when you’re feeling down or gently squeezing your hand in public. His hugs are warm, and while it was a little awkward and stiff at first, they’re more relaxed and frequent now. You like how he’ll let you rest on his chest after a hard day and how he’d never let you go until he’s more than convinced that you’re fine. Whenever he brushes away your tears with a stray thumb, you feel all your worries and anxieties disappear.

In return, you’ll practically pull his figure into you whenever he comes home feeling frustrated or upset, resting his head at the crook of your neck while rubbing circles on his back. You let him vent, and after hours of him explaining to you how pathetic he finds himself, you’ll kiss him until he’s all better. In truth, he doesn’t think he deserves the love you give him, especially when he feels as if he can’t return it back tenfold despite trying his hardest.

It’s late at night like it usually is when he’s studying. You had gone to bed hours before, so it surprises him when he hears the bedroom door creak open and the shuffling of your feet against the floor. He turns his head around from his laptop, taking off his glasses and rubbing his dry eyes before giving you a proper look with the tilt of his head.

“You should be asleep,” he murmurs rather guiltily. “I’ll be in bed soon.”

“That’s what you always say,” you chuckle, voice tired. You rub your eyes too before taking a seat right next to him on the couch. “Still studying?”

“Sorry,” he sighs, moving an arm so that you can wrap your arms around his side and rest your head against his body. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise-“

“No, it’s all good.” Your eyes scan across the website he’s looking at, and you almost gag at the wall of words. “We can take a long nap together this weekend. After you ace your exam.”

He smiles softly, lowering his head to press a chaste kiss on your cheek before returning his attention back to the screen. He’d prefer it if you fell asleep back in bed, not because you’re distracting, but because he knows how the screen light distracts you from dozing off comfortably. You don’t seem to be willing to let go, though, and he isn’t going to tell you to leave him when he desperately wants you by his side at all times.

“Why don’t I read some of it to you?” you offer, stifling a yawn. You hear him laugh quietly and frown. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he says quietly, caressing the side of your face. You lean into his touch. “It’s just that…you know that I’ll get distracted if you start reading to me, right? I’d probably fall asleep.”

“That’s the point.” He rolls his eyes playfully, pressing another kiss, this time on your nose because he can’t help himself. “I think you’re already pretty distracted right now, aren’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” His voice is low and tired, but content, and you enjoy how it vibrates from his chest. You see him eyeing your lips more and more at each word you speak, and you have to hold in your smirk. “I need to recharge for a bit.”

Setting aside his laptop, he bends down to press his lips against yours, pulling your body close to his. He feels your fingers run through his hair and against his scalp, tempting him to further the kiss. You’re the one to pull away first much to his dismay, and he lets out a quiet whine as you look and admire the red mess that you’ve turned Shirabu into.

“I’ll let you recharge more after you’re done working,” you tease, grinning. He breaks into a smile and reaches back for his computer, making a sound of agreement.

“I’ll be done soon, love.”

Shirabu doesn’t trust magic. Miracles and wishes and made up spells are silly figments of childhood imagination. Soulmates, though, he thinks, may be closer to reality than he had initially thought. He can’t say he minds it.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #shirabu kenjirou #kenjirou shirabu #shirabu #shirabu x reader #shirabu kenjirou x reader #kenjirou shirabu x reader #hbd shirabu #salty setter #and by two hours earlier i mean a regular wake-up time

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louhooo · 5 years ago

Text

If I Didn't Care

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky finally catches a break.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Like, a handful of swear words, SO MUCH FLUFF AND SO MANY FEELINGS

A/N: I’ve been on quarantine for the last week and I was in a 1940s Bucky mood 🤷‍♀️ This and this inspired me.

As always, feedback is a very much appreciated and welcomed!!! 💘💘💘

Tick… Tock… Tick… Tok…

The wooden clock, the last thing you had of your granddad’s, sat nestled atop the pink crocheted doily Becca made for you four years ago. She claimed crocheting took her mind off of “it”.

You wrote to him when Becca gave it to you, telling him all about how talented his sister was and how he needed to hurry home so he could boast her up, too.

That’s how you were in the early letters; lighthearted. Blithe. Unfettered that Bucky was thousands of miles away, acting as though he was still at camp in Indiana. Steadfast on the notion that he would be home soon, and you could have your fella back.

Bucky read that particular letter for a few weeks while he was stuck in a trench. Some soldiers ribbed him about the “lovesick look” he gave the pieces of paper. Others shared an understanding pat on his back, as they themselves had memorized every word their sweethearts back home had wrote for them.

He tried writing back to you a few times, tried coming up with something smart to say that he knew would make you laugh… but he couldn’t. He was tired. And scared. And wanted to be home more than he could truthfully tell you.

I’m sorry it’s takin’ me so long, honey. I keep tryin’ to tell ya about what’s going on here, but I can only tell you so much… and none of it is anything you’d want to hear, anyways.

I just miss you, sweetheart. More than you know.

All my love,

Bucky

Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes, 107th

Two weeks later he was captured.

You stirred beside him, pulling Bucky from long ago memories and into the present. He rolled to his side, gazing at you, memorizing the curve of your exposed back in the early morning light. You clutched the pillow under your arms, a soft hum coming from you.

You took a deep breath, stretching toes as you turned your head away from the window, not ready for the day to begin. Your face scrunched as you dared to open one eye, only to be met with a steely gaze and deep circles, and a warm smile that tried convincing you everything was perfect. You slid your hand across the bed until you met the warmth of his calloused hand and squeezed halfheartedly.

“Why’re you awake?” His smile deepened as he rubbed his thumb over your smooth skin.

“How can I sleep when there’s an angel next to me? If I sleep, I’ll miss it.” A sleepy grin spread on your face, and you huffed a laugh through your nose.

“You’re a real charmer, Barnes.”

“Only for you, sugar.” Bucky felt your hand tighten in his, and he moved your hands towards his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on the curve of your finger. You sighed contently and closed your eyes, sleep still fresh in your mind.

“What time is it?” You asked, your face half smushed against the pale blue linen. His other hand brushed the loose curls from your face, the tips of his fingers following the smoothness of your skin down your back.

“Almost six.” You hummed, in acknowledgement or pleasure, he wasn’t sure.

“Can we stay in bed forever?” He grinned and leaned over to kiss your shoulder.

“As long as you don’t hog the covers.” He laid on his back as he watched another lazy grin spread on your face.

“No promises.” Down below, the city was starting to stir, meaning the illusion of peace would be coming to an end for the time being. You groaned and pulled yourself closer to Bucky, seeking his warmth. “We hafta get up soon, don’t we?” Bucky chortled as you squinted up at him.

“’Fraid so, sweetheart.” You groaned softly and dropped your head onto the plains of his chest. He chuckled and rubbed his palm down the back of your head, smoothing your hair. You tilted your head and looked up at him, a tired pout on your face.

“Can you promise me now that we won’t make any plans for the weekend? I need 48 continuous hours with my husband.” An effortless chuckle vibrated in his chest and he stared at you with hearts in his eyes.

“Yes, ma’am.” Happy with his answer, you pushed yourself up, your lips landing on his, quieting the storm that lingered in Bucky’s thoughts. You started to pull away, but Bucky pulled you back in, cupping your face and kissing you like it was the first time. One hand stayed on the bed to keep your balance and the other laid on top of his hand, your fingers going over the metal band on his finger. You pulled back with a gasp, air filling your lungs.

You gazed at each other as you both worked to control your breathing, both forgetting that you needed to start getting ready for the day.

“If you keep kissin’ me like that, we’ll be late and—” Bucky pulled you back, swallowing your words before they had a chance to pass your lips. You moved so he could hover over you and he settled between your legs, rolling his hips.

The day could wait a little while longer.

“Buck?” Bucky blinked, subconsciously shaking his head as he turned to look at Steve.

“Yeah?” Steve studied the man beside him, fear visibly seeping through Bucky’s pores.

Silent fear.

Fear that would never be spoken about to anyone, not even Steve.

Bucky adjusted the hat on his lap and cleared his throat, hoping that distracting himself would make the situation easier.

Steve let out a tired sigh and settled in the spot beside his friend.

“Think your mom made her apple pie for us?” Bucky huffed a laugh, an easy grin spreading across his face.

“Hell… I don’t even remember what it tastes like anymore. Hope she made two, ‘cause I’m not sharing any with you.” They both laughed, loud and freely.

Steve continued before he could stop himself. “Do you think Y/N’s gonna be able to leave the hospital?” Bucky’s laughter quieted, his grin fading away into the frown he’d had the entirety of the boat ride home.

“Yeah. Her last letter said she would.” Bucky had written a letter to his mom, telling her to let you know you didn’t have to be there when they docked, that he’d understand if you were too busy. He shouldn’t have been surprised when just two and a half weeks later, he found a letter from you sitting on his bed.

Foolish.

Utterly stupid.

Completely moronic.

Those were just some of the things you called him in your seven page letter. And Bucky knew it. A part of him knew you’d show, and you had probably talked with the other nurses as soon as you heard his return date so that they’d help cover for you so that you’d be able to be there.

He knew that.

But the other, louder part of him feared that you wouldn’t be there. That, at some point in the years since you had last seen each other, you fell in love with someone new and just couldn’t tell him over writing.

You can’t break up with someone in writing, Bucky, you had told him his last night home, so if you wanna break up, you have to do it now. But save your breath because I won’t accept it anyways.

Or, maybe what he feared most would be how you looked at him. Would you still see him as the same kid he was when he left, or would you only see the shell of who was left?

Someone shouted about seeing the Statue of Liberty and the ship broke out in cheers.

They were home.

Cloudy, warm water sat in the basin as Bucky took long, steady strokes down his face. He hadn’t shaved in almost a week, much to his mother’s dismay. When she dropped off a casserole earlier in the week, she, in that way that mothers do, stared in quiet disappointment at his jaw, never saying a word, but getting her point across perfectly.

Bucky finished shaving and wiped his face with a fresh towel and stared at himself in the mirror, resting his hands on the cool porcelain, his fingers curling over the edge. The circles under his eyes seemed darker and more noticeable with no beard to take all the attention.

“Honey?” You knocked on the door twice as a courtesy, and pushed the bathroom door open, “I finished ironing your shirt.” You smiled and brought in a cup of coffee just how he liked it. “It’s hanging up on the door.” You hummed in subdued surprise and stepped into the small yellow bathroom and smiled at Bucky in the mirror, your free hand running across his lower back as you stood beside him. “You look nice.”

Bucky grinned as he took the mug from your hand and took a drink, the hot beverage instantly soothing his mind.

“Thanks, baby.” He set the coffee down on the shelf under the mirror and took the drain out of the sink, setting the stopper up to dry. Your fingers ghosted over his left shoulder and he tensed, inhaling sharply. His head turned quickly and he stared at you, an apologetic grimace on your face.

“Sorry… Are they botherin’ you?” You stared closely at the angry scars that littered his arm, looking for any sign of irritation that might be causing his discomfort.

He knew what you meant. Wanted to know if they were hurting him in any way, not just tangibly. After Switzerland, doctor’s had been able to save his arm, but the scars and pain that it left him made him wonder if it was worth it. They told him he suffered damage to his nerves, so he’d never be able to use his left arm the same way.

But when his arm started to heal a few weeks after his surgery, the doctors were bewildered.

Amazing, they’d told him.

It wasn’t. Not really. It was just another reminder of what he went through when he was captured.

“No… they’re fine.” Your eyes flashed to his, giving him chance to change his answer. “I’m just anxious about my interview.”

“Oh, Buck, you’re gonna knock it outta the park! I guarantee they don’t let you leave without hiring you on the spot!” You turned to face each, taking his hands in yours. He squeezed your hands and watched his thumb rub over your knuckles.

“What do I tell ‘em? ‘My wife thinks I’m great, so you hafta hire me?’” You chuckled and shook your head.

“No, just tell ‘em I make the best chocolate cake, so they be glad they hired you come the holidays.” Bucky chortled, skimming his thumb over the gold band on your finger. “Tell them you’re the best mechanic they’re ever going to find, and not hiring you would be the dumbest thing they could do,” you pulsed your hands, “I can go to lunch early if you want me to walk with you to the interview?” Bucky let out a long sigh and finally met your gaze.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. I wouldn’t want you to be late gettin’ back to the hospital.”

“’S not that big o’ deal. I’ll have one of the girls cover for me if I’m not back.” He gave you that soft smile, that smile that told you he wanted to tell you no, but didn’t want to hurt your feelings. You took a deep breath and studied him, reaching up to wipe the small bit of shaving cream that lingered by his ear. “Fine… I’ll stop, I’ll stop.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” a gentle kiss to your forehead and you separated, Bucky taking his coffee and going to the bedroom to get dressed. You stared at yourself in the mirror, wondering if you were simply making up the annoyance Bucky held for you, or if it was factual, and now he was stuck with someone who pestered him.

He’ll talk to you if he wants to, Y/N, your friends affirmed, don’t take it personally. My Johnny does the same thing. They all do it.

Not Bucky.

Your Bucky shared his soul with you years ago, and now he was hiding it from you, and nothing hurt you more.

Bucky left the apartment at the same time as you, not needing to, but not knowing what else to do with his time if he stayed at the apartment.

He showed up at the auto repair shop two hours early and settled on the bench just outside the front door, attempting to read the newspaper he bought on the way there.

It was going terribly.

He wasn’t able to get past the first paragraph without getting caught up in his thoughts and losing focus. He tried reading about the new player the Dodgers just bought thirty times before he gave up and watched the birds up in the trees.

The bell chimed above the door and an older man in grease covered denim coveralls, wiping his hands with a rag, stood in the doorway looking Bucky up and down.

“You here for the interview?” Bucky stood up quickly, smoothing out his brown suit and taking off his hat, holding it to his stomach.

“Yes, sir.” He raised a brow.

“You’ve been sittin’ out here for nearly an hour. Don’t have anything better to do?”

“My wife told me if I break her radio again, she’ll put me out on the street.” The man chuckled, still wiping grease and grime from his hands. He stuffed the rag into his back pocket and extended his right hand to Bucky.

“I’m Walter, but everyone calls me Walt.”

“James, but friends call me Bucky.”

“Ya got a strong grip. Well, Bucky, come with me, we’ll go to my office.” Bucky grabbed the newspaper and folded it quickly, following Walt through the front door. They took a short walk through the garage and went into Walt’s office that sat in the back corner of the shop, giving him the best view of everything in the garage. Walt motioned for Bucky to sit in one of the worn wooden chairs in his office and shut the door behind them.

“I didn’t mean to make ya change your schedule for me. I woulda waited until it was time.” Walt chuckled gruffly, waving Bucky off as he sat in his swivel chair, the wood creaking as he settled.

“I felt sorry for ya. Guys were makin’ bets on how long it’d take ya to come inside.” Bucky chuckled, shrugging off his embarrassment.

“Who won?”

“Me. They’re out gettin’ me a Coke as we speak!” Bucky laughed and relaxed in his chair, his nerves not consuming him for the moment. “So, tell me about yourself, Bucky.” Bucky rattled off facts about himself: where he served, what he did overseas, how long he was overseas, and where he got his training when he got back home. Walt raised his hand, cutting Bucky off. Bucky stopped talking and Walt lowered his hand, resting it on the arm of his chair. “You said you had a wife?”

“Yeah. Her name’s Y/N.”

“How long you been married?”

“Got married last May when I got back from vocational school.”

“Any kids?” Bucky shook his head.

“Not yet.”

“Did you meet her when you got home?” An easy grin made its way to Bucky’s face and shook his head.

“No, I’ve known her since we were kids.” Walt’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

“She must really like you if she let you make her wait that long.” Bucky chuckled.

“I’ll tell ya Walt, I’ve had pretty stubborn women around me all my life, but she takes the cake.” Walt laughed, the deep sound echoing in the small office. “I lost count how many times I asked her to marry me, and I almost had her convinced, but then the war happened,” he shrugged his hands, “and then there were other things to do. She told me we could get married when I got home. Said it’d give me somethin’ to look forward to.” Bucky huffed, “She still made me wait until after I was done with training.”

“She work?”

“She’s a nurse at Kings County up on Clarkson.” Walt hummed. “You married?”

Walt took a deep breath, holding the edge of his desk as though he was steadying himself. “Lucy and I have been married for about twenty five years. We have ten kids, six sons, four girls.” Bucky couldn’t stop his eyes from going wide.

“Doesn’t sound very quiet at your house.” Walt chuckled and leaned back in his chair, resting his ankle on his knee.

“Some days are better than others… I still wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world, though.” Bucky grinned, heartened by the sentiment. Walt let out a sigh, “Well, Bucky… you’ve got the training I’m lookin’ for, so, tell me, why should I hire you?” Bucky took a deep breath.

Tell them you’re the best mechanic they’re ever going to find, and not hiring you would be the dumbest thing they could do.

“Truthfully, you’re not gonna find a better mechanic.” Walt raised his brows. “I’m hardworking and someone you can count on to show up and get the job done. I’m the best there is.” Walt blinked.

“So…” Walt started, “let me get this right…. You’re tellin’ me, that you’re a better mechanic than myself, someone who’s been a mechanic for over twenty years?” White, hot fear started coursing through Bucky’s body.

He swallowed thickly, his stomach dropping, “Uh… yes, sir?”

The men continued to stare at one another, Bucky preparing himself to be thrown out on his face, if he wasn’t pummeled first.

Could Walt see the sweat on his lip?

What were you going to say when he came home with a broken nose and no job?

Would you finally regret marrying him?

You were nervous.

You had expected that Bucky would call the hospital after his interview and tell you how it went, good or bad. You knew what time his interview was, and the more and more time that passed without hearing anything from him was starting to worry you. You finished up your charts for the night nurse and as soon as the last ‘i’ was dotted and ‘t’ crossed, you grabbed your bag and said your goodbyes for the weekend.

You walked down the stairwell and out of the staff exit, coming to a halt as soon as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the door shutting behind you. There was Bucky, still in his brown suit, leaning against the wall with that boyish smile you’d fallen in love with.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He stepped closer, pulling a bouquet of red roses from behind his back. You gasped softly and took the flowers as he handed them to you. “How are you?” He kissed your cheek and you stared at him, trying to decipher his mood.

“Hi, honey,” he held his arm out for you and your suspicions quieted, a bashful grin forming on your face. You took his arm and you both fell into a leisurely pace as you walked home. “This is a nice surprise.” You smiled at him, adjusting the grip on the bouquet. Bucky, without being asked, reached for the flowers and held them in his left hand, freeing your hand.

“I just missed you,” he turned his head and grinned, “and I realized it’s been a while since I walked you home from work.” Your hold tightened around his arm and you could feel the hearts grow in your eyes.

“It’s not my birthday, is it? Our anniversary maybe?” Bucky smirked at you out of the corner of his eye, knowing what you were hinting at.

“No, ma’am. It’s just an ordinary Friday.” You hummed, forcing your eyes ahead.

“Strange.” He hummed in agreement and you shook your head good naturedly and walked in silence with all of the city noise. You came to a stop after a few minutes, waiting for traffic to pass. You looked at him, “I’m gonna hafta ask, aren’t I?” Bucky looked at you nonchalantly.

“Ask about what?” You gave him an exacerbated look, a laugh escaping his mouth.

You laughed with him, “Tell me! The suspense has been getting’ to me all day!” Bucky laughed more, the creases by his eyes deepening.

“We’ll hafta stop at the grocery store before we go home.” He led you across the street, ignoring your expectant glances.

“James Buchanan Barnes, if you don’t tell me—”

“Ask me what we needta get at the store.” He raised his brows at you keenly. You stared back at him, blinking a few times before you sighed and gave in.

“What do we need to buy at the store, honey?”

“Flour. We’re almost out.” Your face twisted, visibly confused by what Bucky was talking about.

“We don’t needta get flour? I’m not makin’ anything.”

“Well, I kinda already told the guys at the shop you make the best chocolate cake, so I really don’t wanna show up empty handed on Monday morning.” You came to a standstill just in front of the grocery store, pulling Bucky to a stop as well. You stared at him with big eyes.

“You got the job?” Your voice was soft, barely audible over the commotion of rush hour. Bucky simply smiled, and you knew. You squealed and threw your arms around his neck, the shock of which made Bucky drop the flowers on the ground so he could catch you. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight, unaffected by the stares of everyone around them.

How could he be bothered with you in his arms?

As soon as you were home from the store, and everything had been put away and the roses put into a vase, you and Bucky sat at the kitchen table and he recounted his day. You listened attentively, a permanent grin fixed on your face. When he was done, you stood leaning over to kiss his lips.

“I’m so happy for you, baby.” Bucky smiled and gingerly pulled your hand until you settled on his lap. You sat contently with your legs crossed, and combed back his hair with your nails adoringly.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You continued to scratch his scalp tenderly as he rubbed his hand over your lower back. He chuckled to himself, “Ya know, I was half worried you’d leave if I didn’t get the job.” Bucky watched the smile on your face slowly fall, his own grin disappearing at the loss of yours. You stopped pushing your fingers through his hair and sat back so as to see him clearer.

“What?” Bucky started to stammer.

“Well, I-I just mean that, ya know… I’m your husband. I’m supposed to take care of you, a-and I can’t treat ya how I’m supposed to when the jobs I find barely pay enough to put food on the table or a roof over your head.” When Bucky got home from overseas, he was less than willing to take any stipends the government was giving to veterans. Every dime Bucky received went directly into savings, even when everyone tried convincing him he should use it. He wasn’t going to use that money unless he absolutely had to.

I’m not gonna need it, he’d told everyone, I’ll just go back to the factory and pick up my old job.

When he’d gone to the factory, he realized that wasn’t the only guy in Brooklyn looking for work. Steve and the other Commandoes tried helping him, telling Bucky to stay with the S.S.R like them, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t when he finally had you back. He couldn’t risk it, even if the pay would have been able to give you the life you deserved.

After he finished training, he started calling every auto repair shop in the phone book, asking if they needed a new mechanic. After eleven phone calls that ended in rejection, Bucky was defeated. Slowly, when the small jobs he found on construction yards weren’t enough, the savings started to go, and you subtly started working a few more hours every week.

Bucky was beginning to wonder if the crease between your eyes was going to be permanent.

“Honey?” You blinked and took a long, steadying breath.

“Have I ever told you that I don’t feel like you treat me right, or that you don’t take care of me?”

“Well, I—” You gave him a firm look and he stopped himself.

“Yes or no.” Bucky let out a deep sigh.

“No, ma’am.”

You nodded your head. “No, I haven’t, you’re right. Because I have never once thought that about you, Bucky. Not once. And I think you know full well that I would have told if I had.” Bucky stared glumly at the ground, taking the reprimand in silence.

“I just wanna be able to buy you new dresses if you want them, or finally get you a real ring. I’m gonna be able to do that now with what they’ll pay me at the shop.”

“Bucky, I know you think I’m embarrassed to ask my friends for hand-me-downs, or that I’m upset that I never got a flashy engagement ring like my friends or the other nurses… but I’m not. I’ve been wearing hand-me-downs since I was ten years old, Buck. Why on earth would I start getting embarrassed now? And, as far as I’m concerned, the ring on my hand is just right, because you gave it to me, and that’s all I wanted.” You cupped his jaw tenderly, lifting it until he was looking at you. “You will always be what I want, James.”

You felt Bucky melt in your hand, and he sighed, resting his head on your chest. He breathed you in, and you continued to sit in each other’s quiet embrace, the sounds of your heart beat steady and strong in his ear.

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes x You #Bucky Barnes x Y/N #Bucky x Reader #Bucky x Y/N #Bucky x You #1940s Bucky #Bucky Barnes

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ayatosmlktea · 5 years ago

Note

Vampire au request? Levi & reader are hunters. During one mission he thinks she dies but he finds out later she was turned during the chaos. She stayed away because she knew he hated vampires because they killed farlan and isabel. So he hunts her and she thinks hes trying to kill her, so she runs but he just wants her back. Maybe he relives old memories between them when she slips away. Angst please. He doesnt catch up to her either... yet... 😏 if it's too specific feel free to spin off it lol

A/N: I’m really sorry if this is too long but holy fuck I got so inspired! I love supernatural shit! ❤️

𝑯𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 ❤️

Y/N’s head throbbed painfully, her eyes unwilling to open. She had experienced her fair share of hangovers throughout her early adult years but her throat had never felt drier than it had in that moment. Her body felt like it had quite literally died and been resurrected all in the same night. Swallowing what felt like sand paper she weakly rolls onto her side forcing her eyes open.

“Hey shes awake!” An unknown female voice shrills.

“About time. Thought she was actually going to die.” Another voice laughs, probably male but possible female.

“Poor girl must be famished.” The first voice cackles. On cue, her body was flooded with the aching desire to drink something. She felt both starved and thirst at the same time. Y/N’s eyes begin to focus in the dark, two figures were in the room with her. One was sitting on a large crate, one leg dangling over the edge while the other was bent at the knee resting on the edge of the box.

Another girl was kneeling in front of her, box dyed pink hair pulled up into two buns on either side of her head. The entire situation itself was weird enough but what made her blood run cold was the bright yellow eyes staring back at her.

The memories of the previous night all crashing in at once.

It was supposed to be a simple hunt! Erwin had tipped them off about a small vampire nest lurking on the outskirts of downtown. It was one they had been tracking for a while now but each time they got close the nest always vanished within hours. They were drawing attention to themselves, recklessly pulling whatever bodies they could grab into their dingy hideout and leaving them drained scattered throughout the city. It was disgusting. Every time they had to fight vampires Y/N was always reminded of the way their two friends had tragically died. The rain didn’t seem like it was going to let up any time soon, the streets becoming less crowded the farther they walked. It was oddly quiet, the sky was dark grey casting a gloomy mood over the city. It didn’t take them long to find the hideout, either they were lazy vampires or they wanted to be caught. It was strange and Y/N had a heavy feeling of dread sitting in her stomach.

“Don’t you think this is too easy?” She hissed to Levi who has busy pulling their concealed machetes from a duffle bag.

“Doesn’t matter, just take them out as quickly as possible. Vampires are dumb fuckers Y/N don’t over think it.” His words were gruff but she knew how uncomfortable he was. Despite his hard exterior he hated this as much as she did, probably more. The nest was fairly small, neither of them sparring the creatures a second chance as they decapitated one after another. Years of being seasoned hunters had made their reflexes faster, they had decided to split up their chances of ending this bloodbath were faster that way. Levi didn’t have to think twice about it, Y/N was more than capable of taking care of herself especially against lower level vamps. Scoping out every inch of their underground nest, Y/N was satisfied that she had managed to take out every one there. Pulling out a cloth she wiped the blood off her hands, setting down the machete at her feet momentarily.

It was a stupid mistake, she should have waited until they were safely above ground before letting her ground down. A rustling noise behind her catches her attention, before she can grab her weapon a hard blow to the back of her head knocks her unconscious.

“Why didn’t you just kill me?” She demands, glaring daggers at the vampire on the crate.

“Don’t you think this is much more fun?” The girl squeals, in her hand was a recognizable blood bag. The sight alone made her want to throw up.

“So what, I’m just going to sit here and watch you sick fucks drink blood for fun?” Y/N sneers, the hunger she had felt earlier now almost too intense to process. Never in her life had she felt such an insatiable need to eat something.

“You still don’t get it do you?” There was no hiding the amusement written all over his face and it made her heart drop into her stomach. Her hand wanders up to her chest revealing her biggest fear. She had no heartbeat.

“What the fuck did you do?” She shrieks unable to fight the wave of panic washing over her, angry tears slid down her cheeks - well at least it felt like they were. Moving her fingers up to her eyes she felt nothing, it was the strangest thing she had ever experienced. It felt like she was crying but there were no tears, she would never cry again. Faster than lightning the brunette was at her side, his fingers gripping her hair in a painfully tight grip she was sure would have ripped her scalp right off her head if it wasn’t for her undead state.

“You really thought I was just going to sit there and let you and that stupid midget come in and wipe out my entire clan?” His voice was calm but there was an undeniable rage seeping into his tone.

“You didn’t think it was a little too easy?” His words make her eyes squeeze shut with regret, she should have pushed harder.

“I’ve been thinking about this ever since Detroit, you remember that don’t you?” His lips were uncomfortably close to her ear sending shivers all the way down to her toes. She knew what he was talking about, it was probably their biggest nest kill. Yanking her head back at an awkward angle their eyes meet.

“You took something special from me that night so what better way to return the favour than to take something away from you” Once again the feeling of crying but not being able to takes over her senses. His grip on her hair doesn’t give up as he drags her to her feet over to a dingy mirror on the wall.

“Look at yourself, you really think he’s going to love you when you look like that?” Y/N doesn’t want to look, she knows already what she’s going to find. But she can’t help her eyes drifting upwards, anger and despair swirling around her stomach. Her eyes were bloodshot, iris’s the colour of liquid honey and her skin was ghastly pale.

Two distinct marks in her neck were enough to send her hurtling towards a full blown panic attack. Levi. He was never going to forgive her, their last moments together hadn’t been sweet or memorable. And now she was going to have to live with the reality of being a monster.

“Fuck you!” Her hands desperately trying and grab onto anything she can grab onto. The sudden feeling of a strength she could never have possibly known before was crawling under her skin. Her nails claw at his face leaving three long gashes but no blood comes out.

Rather than the rage she had expected he merely looks content. Her head begins to feel fuzzy, static over taking any thoughts she had as his eyes glow a little brighter.

“Sit” he commands and her body willingly obeys. Horrified at how powerless she is to his control over her mind she can do nothing but watch as he takes the bag of blood from the pink haired girl and brings it over to her.

“I apologize for not having anything…fresh after all you did ambush our nest. This will have to do for now but in your state I’m sure you’ll enjoy it” Tilting her head back with ease his sharp nail pokes a hole into the bag. The smell suddenly overwhelms her senses. It was the sweetest thing Y/N had ever smelled and she wanted nothing more than to rip into the bag and devour every last drop. The hunger growing inside her now too unbearable to ignore and almost painful as drool shamelessly pours down her mouth.

“Open up love” he smirks watching her helplessly obey his commands. The first drop was heaven it ignited every nerve in her body and she was ashamed to admit how good it tasted. Despite wanting to spit it out and scrub her tongue until the taste no longer lingered there Y/N couldn’t deny how strong it made her feel.

Before she knew it the entire bad was empty, the hunger still there but only a dull flame now. Releasing his hold of her, her body collapses against the wall. There was no going back now, she couldn’t be saved and Levi would never forgive her. Y/N had turned into the one thing he hated most and the thought of never being able to touch him again made her feel even more dead inside.

♡ ♡ ♡

Levi was distraught, no distraught was not strong enough. He was…going out of his mind seemed more appropriate. He should have listened to Y/N when she had voiced her concerns but he had been too caught up in his own feelings to realize that they were walking into a trap. It had been almost a month since then, he was sure she was dead. Levi tried not to think about the worse possibility of being kept as a feeder, it made him sick to think that she might be suffering.

Levi had forced Erwin and Hange to help him find her body, he wouldn’t have any peace of mind until he could confirm with his own eyes that she was dead. He was barely sleeping, every time he closed his eyes her face haunted his dreams. Levi felt guilty he’d left her alone. His snarky attitude masking his discomfort had worked against him, he could barely remember what her lips felt like or what she smelled like and it was making him increasingly angry. How could he let himself forget her so fast.

Levi had his hands dug deep into the pockets of his leather jacket, his duffle bag resting against his hip. The air was dry and cold, but Levi didn’t care. Every night since they had been separated Levi had gone out every night looking for her until dawn.

Levi was sure he was going to die. The malevolent spirit in front of him had it’s hand buried in his chest - literally gripping his heart. It was the worst pain he had ever felt and there was no one who was coming to his rescue this time. Y/N had been on another hunt and Erwin was taking care of his own shit.

He hands claw into the floorboards trying to read for his shot gun loaded with rock salt. It wouldn’t be enough to kill it but it would at least give him a few minutes to breathe. His fingers just barely graze the handle of the gun, the edges of his vision are slowly turning black. A loud gunshot rings in his ears, the weight on his chest lifted causing him to gasp in as much air as possible.

“Jesus seems like we only meet up when I’m saving your ass, pretty boy” Y/N smirks reloading her gun with another round of rock salt bullets. Walking over to him she stretches her hand out offering her help.

“You didn’t save my ass, I had it under control” He grumbles but accepts her help anyway. Standing up he rubs his chest, the dull ache of the spirit’s nails digging into his skin still throbbing.

“Whatever you say doll” She chirps resuming her search of the vacant house for the remains that was trapping the ghost to the house ignorant to the pair of grey eyes trained on her swaying hips. Levi hated to admit it but without her help he probably wouldn’t have survived. They finished the job fairly quick after that, finding the cursed stuffed animal and burning it in the backyard putting the spirit to rest.

“Damn Levi, these are pretty deep” she winced at the sight of bloodied claw marks on his chest. Y/N had insisted she tend to his wounds as soon as they checked into a motel before they had a chance of becoming infected. The sight of his bare torso had her feeling light-headed. There was no denying Levi was incredibly attractive but she liked playing with the air of sexual tension that seemed to loom over them. The room suddenly seemed too small for two people and despite her best attempts at self control she couldn’t help her hands trailing down his body.

“Something wrong Y/N?” Levi’s smooth voice only added to the fog that was clouding her mind and agains her better judgement she found herself unable to resist kissing him. Levi’s complete shock at her actions left him unable to respond. No one had ever been so bold, usually he was the one making the first move and honestly, it was kind of attractive. Just as fast as she had kissed him she pulled back, her usual cockiness replaced with embarrassment the blush on her cheeks tugged at his heart.

“Sorry I didn’t- I just like you and uh- you looked cute” Levi didn’t say anything as she stuttered over her words, merely cupping her face with both his hands and bringing their mouths back together.

Levi sighed bitterly at the memory, since they had been inseparable. Giving up their hunting on their own to work together. His feet moved on their own, carrying him through the dead city weaving through empty alleys until the sound of gurgled screaming caught his attention. Running towards the sound he tries to squash down the building feeling of apprehension building up. His suspicions had been on the mark as usual, except what he saw before him was worse than he had ever imagined. If it was possible Levi was sure his heart had stopped beating for a few seconds.

“Y/N?” The person before him stilled at his words, her shoulders visibly tense.

♡ ♡ ♡

Y/N really didn’t want to give into the insatiable thirst she felt for blood but Eren, the clan leader, had told her that as a newly turned vampire the desire was going to be unbearable until her body adjusted to the change. Without blood she was weak and she couldn’t run away if she was weak, they would catch her within hours. It disgusted her at how far she’d fallen, doing the thing that had killed her two best friends and becoming a monster.

And then he just had to show up. She froze at the sound of his voice, it was almost like they had never been apart and the smell of him. GOD it was enough to get drunk off. She could smell everything, his fear, love, and bitterness. Allowing herself one last glance at the man she could no longer have she looked back at him, not bothering to wipe the blood away from her mouth. If her heart was still working it would have been beating erratically in her chest at the sight of him, leather jacket and ripped jeans. His black hair messy and neck just inviting her over for a taste.

The look in his eyes was unreadable, but as soon as she saw him reaching for his back she sprinted off faster than he could catch up with her, grateful for her newfound inhumane speed.

“Y/N wait goddamnit!” He shouts after her but as much as she loved him she didn’t want to die. She kicks herself for allowing herself to believe that Levi would spare her life. They were hunters, well he was. It was his job to rid the world of monsters like her. They could never be together. The realization was bitter, nonexistent tears wanting to fall from her amber eyes. She didn’t stop running until she was miles away from him, returning to their new nest. Y/N didn’t want to come back but until she was strong enough to kill Eren she couldn’t survive on her own.

“Fuck she’s a fucking vampire!” Levi shouted in frustration over the phone. His worst fears coming to life were surprisingly not as big of a deal as he had imagined them to be. He would rather have her alive over dead any day, but at what cost. Every time the image of her bent over a corpse with blood dripping down her face flashed before his eyes he cringed. But that was Y/N, his Y/N. He couldn’t give up on her so easily.

“If you can bring her back I think there’s a way we can reverse the transformation” Erwin replied sounding faintly distracted.

“Hange’s been working with some other hunters across the country and she said they’ve found ways to turn a vampire back into a human but it’s not easy.”

“I don’t care! I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back.” Levi would track her day and night if it meant he could hold her in his arms again. Vampire or not she was the love of his life and there was no way he was letting her slip through his fingers.

Masterlist

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kpurereactions · 4 years ago

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Love Shot

Chapter 5

Pairing: Exo x Reader

Rating: Drama, Angst, Smut, Fluff

WARNINGS: Language, Eventual Violence, Lots of Smut Later on

Chapters | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

Jongin left the day following his midnight visit. I caved and even though it took me a few days to stop kicking myself for letting him sleep in my bed I was happy he did. I was even happier that I managed to keep my distance from them the week following, which really allowed me to focus on work. I was proud to say I had three pieces finished, and one still taking its time to dry.

We have a meeting in our house here in the next few days. If you have anything ready to be delivered please do so we can show off your work:) -Baek

I laughed at his little smiley face and quickly texted back. I decided to just get it over with so I carefully checked the two pieces I knew were dried before wrapping them gently.

As always the moment the cab I sat in turned down the long driveway I grew nervous. I never knew what to expect when I entered that house or who would be there to greet me. I found it a relief that it was just Baekhyun and Jongin who seemed to be in the house, but it was still unnerving since the last time I was with the both of them they tormented me to all hell. I secretly hoped they would take the paintings and just let me leave, but I was too hopeful.

Baekhyun opened the door with a large smile, looking just as beautiful as he usually did. His white shirt unbuttoned slightly at the top and his hair tousled as if he had just woken up from a nap. Jongin looked just as good as he appeared behind Baekhyun. Still in what I assumed was his work suit. He looked so clean cut, which made it hard to look away. He knew it.

I wanted to just drop the paintings and leave. That was my plan, but instead of taking the two large paintings from my hands they backed away, opening a space for me to walk through.

“We want to hang these now, which room were they made for?” Baekhyun said over his shoulder. Neither of the boys offered to help me.

“This one.” I said pointing to the main formal living room.

“Mind making sure it’s straight?” Jongin said, walking by me, taking one of the canvases from my hands.

I really didn't have an option other than to help them set up the paintings. My cab was quick to leave and with the amount of talking they did I knew there was no point in requesting a new one. I knew they could sense my discomfort because they both seemed to give me reassuring smiles as we moved. I sighed and followed, crossing my arms across my chest as my legs reluctantly moved forward.

I watched intently at the two standing at an awkward angle, both pairs of eyes on me as I used my hands to explain what their movements should be. When the last painting was hung Baekhyun jumped off the couch, proud of their work. I couldn't help the smile that broke out across my face seeing how happy the tedious work made him.

“Anyone else want a glass of wine?” He suggested, looking over to Jongin then back to me.

I watched Jongin smile with a small nod, his back already turning to me as he made his way down to the kitchen. I gave Baekhyun a pressed smile, which he took as a yes. He took me a different route than the one Jongin took, leading me into a large dining room that seemed to only be made of rich mahogany wood. I took a seat across from Baekhyun, hoping that when Jongin returned he would choose to sit next to Baekhyun. I don't know why I keep assuming the best of them.

I tried my hardest to keep my drinking steady and my attention on the conversation but Jongin’s constant touching was the only thing that crossed my mind. Every time anyone would laugh his hand would squeeze my knee. Every time anything was referred to me to answer, he'd press his thigh against mine. I knew as my third glass of wine was poured things were going to go bad. The wine loosened me up too much. My conscious was screaming as I laughed, swaying into Jongin’s chest before looking back at Baekhyun. I wasn't drunk. I was just tipsy enough to stop caring about my rules.

I noticed how dark Baekhyun’s eyes had gotten as I recovered myself from Jongin’s chest again, my smile dropping slightly as I reviewed the situation. Jongin’s arm had draped itself over the back of my chair, his folded leg practically resting on mine due to how close he was. Jongin seemed to realize and he lent forward, his lips brushing against my ear.

“It's almost like he knows what's under your clothes with the way he's staring at you.” he said softly. His warm finger stretched slightly to trace along my collar bone. I shivered. I opened my mouth to change the subjects, but Jongin’s voice came through once again.

“I think he wants to taste you too.” I shut my eyes, trying to push the words out of my mind as I finished the rest of my glass.

“I want to share you with my Hyung.” Jongin said just a little louder this time, as if to make sure I knew that Baekhyun had heard every word he had been saying.

My eyes widened as I looked up to Jongin, his face closer than I thought it would be. I choked slightly, looking to Baekhyun before looking back at Jongin. Both their expressions were full of lust. But not the type that made me want to squirm away. In fact it almost had the reverse effect.

I didn't even feel myself nod, but the triumphant look in Jongin’s eyes was enough proof that I had. I watched as his eyes darted to Baekhyun followed by a smile, then back to me. His hand found mine, which was resting in my lap and brought it up to his lips, kissing the back of my hand gently. My heart exploded. What had I gotten myself into? I knew I should have stopped him from pulling me up. I knew I should have asked him to let my hand go so I could just walk out the front door but I didn't have the balls… no… i didn't have the want to. I wanted this. The thought seemed like a foreigner said it. I couldn't believe my heart was beating in excitement as Jongin led me by the hand down the familiar hallway, Baekhyun following us slowly.

I turned my head over my shoulder to look at him. His hands were in his pockets and his expression had completely changed from what it was at the dinner table.

“Don't pay any mind to him. He’ll join us.” Jongin said, stopping at the top of the staircase and taking my cheeks softly into his hands. I could have sworn he was going to kiss me. My eyes fluttered shut and my chest rose drastically as I prepared myself for the heated kiss I expected. Except it never came.

Instead he chuckled, pulling my hand a little harder than before as we took a longer stride down the hallway. His teasing made me blush. Almost made me a little angry with how okay he was with doing that to me. So before he could reach for the door handle I stopped. He turned around looking at me with shocked eyes. He almost looked… afraid. I turned my head to look at Baekhyun, who had stopped at the end of the hall to watch us. I gave him a smirk, a burst of adrenaline erupting through me.

I didn't know what took over but soon my hands were pushing Jongin against the door, my hands moving down to grab his belt to pull his pelvis towards me, my own moving towards him until I had him pinned against the door. I let one hand go to wrap it around his neck, bringing his face down to mine. I pinned him to the door harder through a kiss. I couldn't believe my new found confidence, and it was obvious that neither could Jongin as his hands hesitated before wrapping around me.

I took charge rotating the two of us until my back was to the door. My hand reached down for the nob, letting my eyes open slightly to see that Baekhyun had crept up closer, watching the two of us intently. Feeling the door open I smiled, pulling Jongin in by placing both my hands on his pant line.

He seemed to be entertained with my attempt at dominating him as the feeling of a smile broke the kiss. I watched him as he looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my hands that remained half in his pants. I took this opportunity to wait until he made eye contact, only to hold it as I slowly lifted my shirt off.

I could tell that he had enough with letting me take control. I squealed through a giggle as he gently football tackled me onto his shoulder, only to drop me gently on the bed. His body pressed its way between my legs, one of his hands not waiting a moment to hook behind one of my knees to open me wider.

His lips found mine again, kissing me deeply as his body rocked up and down my body to add just enough friction to the kiss. I managed to get my hands between the two of us, tired of the feeling of his shirt rubbing against my bare skin. I made quick work of the buttons, watching him as he sat up to drop the shirt from his shoulders. I let my fingers memorize the movement of his body, running them over his chest and down his torso.

I let my head fall back as he dropped back down, now nipping and softly sucking at my hot skin. I brought my hands up to his hair, intertwining them as he connected our lips again. The heaviness of the kiss made it hard to breath, causing small moans to escape as I tried to catch my breath. Jongin seemed to like the noise, his tongue trying to reach further down my throat as he pressed himself harder against my body. There was no question he was ready for me, with how close he was I could feel just how hard he was. So I submitted.

He had to have felt my body relax into his, my fight for dominance given up. Another moan escaped my lips as he gripped my wrists and guided above my head. He held both of my wrists in one hand now, his other trailing down my side as his body rocked against mine. I tried to encourage him to take the next step through the sounds of my moans, wanting nothing more for him to sit up and quickly remove my pants, but his hands seemed to have another idea. He pulled me till I was sitting up and kept pulling until I was sitting on the edge of the bed. For the first time since we entered the room I realized that Baekhyun had entered the room, taking a seat across the room on a seat by the closet. The room was dimly lit, making Bawkhyun almost look sinister. I eyed him, his hands folded and brought up to his lips and his eyes… His eyes so dark and lustful.

My attention was brought back by Jongin, whose hands were slipping my bra straps over my shoulders. I hadn't even realized he undid it since I was so fixated on Baekhyun. I tried to sit as straight as possible, not quite sure what to do with my body as I now exposed it to two men. Jongin rounded on me, bringing my attention back up to him as he tilted my chin up to look at him. He kissed me gently, pushing against me until I was back on my back. It was like my senses were heightened. As Jongin kissed me back onto his bed I heard Baekhyun rise, and the sound of what I assumed were the buttons of Baekhyun's shirt hitting the floor. Jongin's hands were making word of my zipper when the feeling of fingers tracing over my arm made me moan. Jongin smiled into the kiss again before his kisses moved down my neck, his hands taking my pants with him as his body lowered. He stood me up again. His arm wrapping tightly around my waist while his free hand held my neck. He allowed me to create a small space between us as I quickly unbuckled his pants. There was something in me that needed to please him. I wanted to put a show on, almost.

It was my turn to take his clothing with the movement of my body. Slowly, as I pulled his pants lower I could feel Baekhyun becoming more interested in what it was he was seeing. I dropped to my knees, peering around Jongin to make eye contact with Baekhyun. He gave me a soft smirk and a slow nod as I kissed Jongin's hip softly. I wasn't hesitant to immediately grab his dick and leave one long lick before taking him all in my mouth. The feeling of his body tensing made me smile as I pumped, turning all of my attention to him. Swirling my tongue over the tip I looked up to make eye contact with Jongin, smiling playfully as he looked down at me with an intense stare. Baekhyun had moved forward, to stand next to Jongin, His eyes now watching me more intently.

“Kneel on the bed.” He said, putting his hands on his hips.

I followed instructions, standing up from my position on the floor before backing onto the bed and resting on my knees. He brought his hand up and made a circular motion with his finger, motioning for me to turn around. I did what he asked as smoothly as possible. I bit my lip and smiled as Jongin placed himself in front of me, Kissing me deeply while Baekhyun started to run his hands over my back. Jongin released the kiss so Baekhyun could push me forward till I was resting on my elbows, his hands now gently running over my back side. I took this opportunity to reposition my lips around Jongin’s tip and slowly begin pumping my head again.

I looked right up at him and held the eye contact. At first it was to just tease him, make it seem like I was this innocent thing he was corrupting. But the longer our eyes stayed locked, the more I became obsessed with his eyes and the way they looked at me. Baekhyun's hands running gently over my back and down my legs were nothing, almost unnoticeable while I was looking into Jongin’s eyes.

The feeling of Baekhyun stretching me out was enough to release Jongin from my mouth, The feeling of Baek now picking up the pace of his pumping was enough causing me to grip tightly to Jongins hips. I couldnt believe how different the two of them were when It came to fucking. Jongin would melt into me, his hips rolling and circling me while Baekhyun was very straight and hard with his pumps.

It was hard for me to catch my breath, Baekhyun's hard pumps had tiny squeaks leaving my diaphragm as he fucked me into the wall that was Jongin. I tried and failed a few times to retake Jongin and include him in the activity, but I was afraid of biting down or squeezing too hard. He didn't seem to mind though as I held tightly to his waist.

I felt Baekhyun's hand run down my back, his hand now wrapping around my hair and as gently as he could he pulled me up till my back was pressed against his chest. I gasped loudly. The hand that had intertwined through my hair had now moved to press the skin below my navel. My head rolled back to hit his shoulder as my hands gripped tightly to his thighs behind me. With the pressure he had added it felt as if he was about to push through my skin. And it felt so good.

I didn't know I could get any more wound up than I already was, but when Jongin came closer and began to run a gentle, but quick finger over and around my clit I couldn't help the way by body contracted, causing another string of loud moans to leave my lips as the way my body shifted allowed Baekhyun to reach even deeper. The tightness in the pit of my stomach seemed to rise out of nowhere and within seconds I was releasing. My body shaking and my breath becoming audible.

The sounds of Baekhyun tapping out were made with two soft smacks to my behind. I collapsed as he pulled out, sliding to the floor with a sleepy grin that I couldn't seem to wipe. My entire body was exhausted from how tense it had become. I let out a small giggle when a now clothed Jongin crouched in front of me.

“I think you need a little more practice in lasting.” He teased. I would have gotten upset with a comment like that, but I was too tired and it wasn't like he was wrong. “I'm sorry that you didn't get your turn.” I teased back. Baekhyun joined us, his lower half now dressed too.

I smiled and thanked him as he helped me stand and helped me to the bathroom on wobbly legs.

____________________

I woke up the next morning to someone talking loudly over me. I scrunched my nose and tried to sink deeper into Jongins chest before realizing I had once again slept over. I sat up quickly to see Kyungsoon now standing in front of me, a smug grin on his face as his eyes dropped.

Of course I was topless.

Kyungsoo’s grin turned smug as an eyebrow rose, but he didnt do anything but back away and tell me to let one of the two boys know he was looking for him once they woke up. My face was burning. I don't know why I had let myself get so comfortable with staying the night in a house full of men who all look at me like I was prey.

I quickly moved myself over Baekhyun, who grunted at my bodyweight pressing against a sensitive part. I tried to dress as quickly as I could. For every moment there was a moment Kungsoo was telling people I was once again naked lying in Jongin's bed.

“Leaving already?” Jongin said, his head now propped up on one hand as he smiled sleepily.

“Yes.” I said jumping once to get my jeans up all the way before securing my belt tighter than it should be. “And seriously, Jongin, this is never happening again.”

“You and I both no that's a lie.” He chuckled, his body now sliding off the end of the bed.

“I… I have never been so embarrassed in my entire fucking life.” I said, lowering my voice so my words wouldn't turn into a shout.

“What do you have to be embarrassed about? We had fun and it's no one will really ever know.” He said, his eyebrows now beginning to push together. I scoffed. “I promise you everyone fucking knows.” He looked at me with a cocked head. “Kyungsoo? He barged in here right before you woke up and saw me. Shirtless. With both you and Baekhyun clinging to me.”

Jongin didn't say anything. Instead he just took a deep breath and watched my face. I don't know why, but the rims of my eyes began to prickle, and I had to look at something high incase they decided to give out on me.

“Y/n, just stay a little longer.” Jongin said, both of our attentions moving to Baekhyun who had finally started to wake up.

“Call me a cab right now.”

I was thankful that he agreed without trying to fight with me anymore. I took a seat back on the bed, my jacket now folded tightly in my arms as my head dipped. The feeling of Baekhyun's arms wrapping around my waist and his lips pressing softly against my shoulder made me shoot up.

“Sorry.” I don't know why I apologized. Yes I did. It wasn't their fault. There was no real reason for me to be mad at these two. I'm the one who agreed. They gave me plenty of opportunities to change my mind. It wasn't their fault that I had no self control.

“Lets wait downstairs.” Jongin said, gently taking my hand.

Why I was surprised to see everyone was besides me, but as the comments started to roll my way about who got me next and who was better in bed I was almost glad that Jongin was standing next to me. His hand pulled me tighter to his side as he walked me out the front door, closing it loudly as if to tell the other boys to not follow.

“Im sorry, Y/n. Honestly.” He said, his thumb running softly over my knuckles.

“For what? It's not your fault.”

“I shouldn't have let Baekhyun talk me into it. I don't know how you're feeling but I do know that you're feeling like this because of me.” He said.

The sound of the cab stopping in front of us made him finally let go of my hand. I looked at him for as long as I could. It was like he was a completely different person standing in front of me. SO I kissed him before turning on my heel and getting into the cab.

#exo #exo smut #love shot #exo fic #exo rection #exo scenario

37 notes · View notes

thran-duils · 5 years ago

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In Your Arms (Chapter 2)

Summary: Alone and pregnant, in the post apocalyptic world after your Alpha died, you’re found by the Saviors and brought to Negan’s doorstep. Negan may be the answer to your loneliness. Pairing: Omega!Fem Reader x Alpha!Negan Rating: Explicit Words: 1,610 Warnings (for the whole fic): Smut, fluff, ABO dynamics, some angst sprinkled in

Chap 1 || Chap 3 || Masterpost || Fanfic masterpost

Cradling your stomach, you followed Simon into the building meekly.

The walkers outside had set you on edge and you were immediately regretting your decision of coming back with them. You doubted they would let you leave with your RV, they probably assumed it was theirs now. And who were you to fight back? One against many? Plus, you knew Beta and Alpha attitudes towards Omegas. Even if you tried to stand up for yourself, would they just laugh? Or would it anger them you were challenging them? You had not thought this through.

But you had not seen this many people – alive at least – in months. Or had it been a year? How had you and your Alpha gone so long without coming across communities like this? You were staring, you realized at everyone person you passed. You half expected them to lunge at you, suddenly turned, wanting to take a bite out of you.

And they were staring at you too. Mainly, your abdomen.

You tripped slightly and focused back on where you were walking, turning your eyes down, following Simon.

Reaching a staircase, you took it a step at a time, pacing yourself.

“Where’s Negan?” Simon asked a random person on the first landing, and they told him a meeting was going on. “This way,” he directed at you heading to another staircase. “Sorry about all the stairs. It does help to keep groups separate and if need be, an escape if anything ever happened.”

An escape? Running up the stairs is the last thing you would do if walkers somehow got in here. But you kept your mouth shut. He knew the layout of the place and you did not.

“Where are we going?” you asked finally as he led you down a hallway.

“Meeting room. Meet the big boss.”

You were not sure you wanted to meet this boss. The further you went into the building, the more you wanted to retreat and hack it on your own. But, you knew that was not an option. Simon had made a point out there on the road. You would need help and need it soon to deliver this baby.

Simon stopped in front of a door and opened it without knocking. You stood in the hallway, unsure if you should follow. Whoever was in the room stopped speaking when Simon entered.

“Well, fuck, finally,” whoever had been speaking said. “Where in the hell have you been? You were only visiting the Kingdom.”

“Got sidetracked,” Simon responded and reached his arm out, meeting empty air. He turned back and saw you were still cowering in the hallway. He gestured for you to come forward, “Come in.”

Forcing yourself to walk forward, you crossed the threshold. There were people sitting at a long table, all eyes on you. You downcast your eyes, trying to avoid their hard stares. You scented another Alpha in the room besides Simon, your anxiety ramping up. Simon had kept his hands off you so far, you wondered if this other Alpha would do the same.

The room was silent, and you shifted uncomfortably. You risked sneaking a look at Simon. He was not looking at you, his gaze was at the head of the table.

The same voice spoke up, “I think you’re all making the lady uncomfortable. Get out. We’ll finish this later. Not you, Simon. You stay. Dwight, stand outside the door.”

Chairs squeaked as everyone at the table got up and moved. Your gaze flicked around at all of them quickly, trying to memorize their faces. They had to be important people if they were in the room for a meeting with the boss. Remembering who they were might come in handy later.

All that was left at the table was him. The other Alpha.

He stood up as well when the room was empty and stalked over towards you and Simon.

“Well, well, Simon,” he practically purred. “What have you brought back?”

“Found her on the road. Alone.”

You did not miss the glimmer in the man’s eye at this piece of information.

“Hmm,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly. “Can you talk?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

A small smirk, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. Nice to meet you. I’m Negan.”

“The boss.”

Negan chortled at this and you feared you had said something wrong. “Yes. The boss. Over-fucking-see everything. ‘Scuze my language. I try to rein that in a little bit when I’m first around people. Don’t wanna scare them the hell off with it. Especially a quiet little mouse like you.” He shifted, “You out on your own?” You nodded. “Nobody else with you at all?” You shook your head. His eyes briefly swept over your stomach and he pointed, “Even whoever helped put that there?”

“They’re gone,” you said quietly.

Peering down his nose at you, Negan drank you in slowly. His gaze was intense, and you turned your eyes down, finding staring at the ground more comfortable. Even it was just a little bit because you could still feel him staring, tearing you a part with his eyes.

“Well,” he said finally. “You sure as hell can’t work to earn points.”

“I –”

“That wasn’t a question,” he cut you off and you closed your mouth. “I’m not gonna make a pregnant woman – especially one as far along as you – work for anything. Little thing growing inside you is the goddamn future. Not worth risking for some measly points in order for you to eat. You can make it up as soon as you’ve delivered that little bundle of joy. You got any skills, darling?”

You shifted, mind racing. You had been a stay at home wife, all of your skills were homey. You had prepared a comfortable home for your Alpha, readied yourself to provide the two of you with children.

Hands behind his back, Negan leaned in close and you stiffened. His said quietly, “Ya don’t gotta be shy. What are you good at? Everybody’s got something.”

Your eyes met his, your lips parted, staring into his eyes. His lips were curled into a smirk, waiting for you to say something.

“I… I stayed home,” you got out in a voice barely above a whisper. “I cleaned. Cooked. Did laundry. Organized social groups in the neighborhood.”

Negan said, “You kept house.” You nodded, feeling inadequate in the face of his question. What skills would that have now in this new world? “You know what I think you would be perfect at?” You gave a slight shake of your head. “Just that. You have a lot of practice. And taking care of that baby. And possibly others in the future.”

Your heart was racing at the insinuation behind that wolfish smile.

“I think you were made perfect for that.”

“I guess,” was all you got out.

“Give yourself some more credit, Y/N. You are lovely and an important piece now to this place,” Negan stated, straightening up.

You blurted, “But, whose place am I cleaning?”

“This whole goddamn place is mine,” Negan chuckled, leaning back against the table.

Pressing, you asked, “So… future babies…”

Negan let out a bark of a laugh and your cheeks tinged red at it. He noticed your embarrassment and apologized, “Sorry, doll. I don’t mean to embarrass you. I was just saying if in the future you find yourself again being… intimate, you would be the perfect choice to bear another young one.”

Did he not mean with him? Your brows furrowed in confusion at his words. Usually Alphas would try to pin an Omega down immediately, not leave it up to chance who would be the one mating them.

He sensed your discomfort and came close again. “I’ll keep my eye on you,” he told you reassuringly. “No one will get next to you that you don’t want next to you.” His tone changed, firm, “And if anyone does, you let me know. And I’ll knock their fucking head off. I don’t tolerate that shit. You understand?”

You nodded.

“You’ll be sleeping around our quarters, safe and sound upstairs. There’s actually a room that just opened up next to Arat’s. I’ll have Dwight show you around. He should be standing right outside. Look for the fucker with half his face burnt. Do you got any questions?” When you shook your head in response, Negan said, “You think of any, don’t be afraid to ask. I’ll check in with you later tonight before dinner.”

Taking this as permission to leave, you said, “Thank you” before turning on your heel and walking to the door.

“So, what do you think?” Simon questioned when he was sure Y/N had been taken off by Dwight.

“Any fucker you see trying to bully her or force her, you let me know and I’ll knock their head off like I said,” Negan replied, his eyes still on the door where Y/N had just walked out.

“I’m taking that as you’re pleased with her,” Simon chuckled.

Negan’s gaze slid to Simon, a salacious smirk on his face, “She’s exquisite.” He clapped Simon on the shoulder. “A little timid for my taste normally but I think I could coax her out of that little shell. Perfect that whoever knocked her up is dead. God, she was fucking me up just standing there.” He rubbed his mouth and said, “Anything she wants, let me know. I’ll keep her happy.” He saw Simon looking at him, eyebrows raised. “So, anything you want in exchange for that beautiful gift? I know you’ve been itching to beat in that fucker’s head at the Hilltop.”

“Accepted,” Simon returned with a wide smile.

~~~

Tags: @daniissuchadani

#negan x reader #my shit #twd fanfic #alpha!negan #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #negan fic #negan fanfic

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jeongi · 6 years ago

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sunday morning with namjoon | knj (m)

(gif + art by: missbrutus)

↣ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | namjoon x reader

↣ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.8k

↣ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 | established relationship au. fluff. smut.

↣ 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | explicit language and sexual content. body praising, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, unprotected sex

↣ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | a cozy, not so innocent morning with namjoon.

“You are impeccable.” Namjoon's lips felt like honey as they skimmed past your jaw and down to your neck; they were sickly sweet and thick with lust leaving you writhing underneath his taut, sun-kissed arms. What you had expected to be an innocent Sunday morning full of cuddling and cursory kisses, turned into an ungodly change of events. Your head fell deeper into your pillow, eyes screwing shut to relish in his every touch. His fingers moved accurately, no doubt in your mind that he had knowledge over your thinning patience as he made slow, deliberate strokes up and down the sides of your waist.

“Divine,” He mumbled, his mouth now latching onto your left clavicle, teeth scraping gently before sucking on the exposed collarbone. He pushed a knee in between your bare legs, signalling them to open and you instantly fed into his silent command in hopes of relieving your aching center from his torturous ministrations.

“Namjoon...” You whimpered, eyes fluttering open when a large hand stopped your hips from pushing your clothed, throbbing clit up against the erection behind his boxers. Your fingers tangled into his golden locks and gently pulled, detaching his lips away from the tops of your breasts. You felt your panties drench even further as his dark eyes met yours, a tongue darting out to wet his full, pink pout. “Please,” your voice came out in whispers, too thick with desire to speak normally. “I want you.” You managed to croak.

“Not yet, baby.” Namjoon’s voice was husky, riddled with sleep and arousal as his attention returned in between the valley of your bare chest. You sighed in frustration, rolling your eyes as you felt his lips quirk up into a small smirk against your feverish skin. His hands made way to your breasts, benignly kneading them and your mind fogged with want as his thumbs skimmed over your nipples.

“You look so breathtaking like this,” his soft words heavily contradicted his movement, a forefinger and thumb delicately rolling your nipple between them before pinching down. “Body begging me to give you relief.” A gasp fell from your mouth as you felt the tip of his wet tongue circle around your right nipple, teeth grazing on the sensitive bud, before closing his lips over it.

“But where would the fun in that be if I gave it to you so easily?” You sincerely wondered how much longer you could take before going absolutely insane as his sinful mouth moved onto the other nipple, repeating his actions.

“Please, please, pleeease,” you drew out, feeling Namjoon’s thick, hard cock twitch behind the fabric of his boxers.

It was a response to your begging, eliciting a hint of a triumphant smile to fall upon your lips in satisfaction. He was just as aroused as you were and you could tell he was also losing control when he didn’t protest your hips from grinding against his, letting out a short groan instead. You were soaked beyond belief, mind rattling to find any way to alleviate the trembles in your bones from the lack of contact with your drenched heat. He moved away from your breasts and opted for a sweet kiss with you. Lips pillowing each other in a comfort, it was light yet laced with nothing short of hunger and you were starting to feel greedy as his hand ran down the side of your leg. As if finally understanding how much you needed some kind of contact, he leisurely used his fingers to cut across your thigh towards your hot center. Finally. You thought to yourself as he lightly brushed the pads of his fingertips over your clothed cunt.

“Fuck, baby.” Namjoon groaned in acknowledgment of how wet you were.

“Look how needy my angel is.” He cooed, fingers traveling to the waistband of your panties before a teasing finger slipped underneath the fabric. His lips latched back onto yours and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief against his mouth as his calloused fingertip ran up and down between your slick, hot and wet folds. You squeaked against him as Namjoon tentatively dipped his third digit between them, your walls instantly squeezing his finger in response. A mumbled ‘fuck’ escaped him, never leaving the warmth of your intertwined lips as he buried it completely within you. He began moving in and out with a tantalizingly moderate speed while simultaneously curling his knuckles to hit just the right spot. Your lips parted against his at the pure hedonism that overcame you.

“Joon,” you gasped, breaking away from your heated kissing as you felt another finger slip within your tightness. Your walls hugged every surface and ridge of his fingers, the sensation deeming your toes to curl. Namjoon’s head fell into the crook of your neck, the touch of his hot breath tingling down to your core. Your head reeled with pleasure when his thumb pressed down on your needy clit.

“Fuck.” You moaned, arms desperately finding solace around his neck as he applied pressure to your sensitive bud, thumb steadily moving in a circular motion. Already, you could feel the pressure building up in your abdomen, the coil ready to snap with each lazy stroke of his thumb and each pump of his fingers. The feeling got tighter with every motion, the coil stretching as far as it could before you cried out in agony when he suddenly stopped.

“Namjoon!” You hissed, brows furrowed together in betrayal at the absence of his lethal touch.

Namjoon pulled away from the warmth of your neck, beaming you a gorgeous grin followed by the most patronizing wink. A thumb gripped your chin, pulling down, a motion for you to open your mouth. You obliged in the midst of your anger, letting him place his coated fingers against your tongue. Your lips immediately wrapped around his digits while your tongue swirled around the two fingers. Getting a taste of your own juices off them, you lightly sucked, eliciting a satisfied groan from him.

“I want to make you come with my mouth.” You did not oppose. He moved off of you, your body instantly shivering at the loss of contact with the natural furnace that was your boyfriend, Kim Namjoon. You giggled as he peppered kisses down your stomach, any trace of agitation leaving you when his hands roamed down the sides of your thighs. You sunk your teeth down onto your bottom lip when he stopped at the soaked cloth of your panties, anticipation rushing through you. You sucked in a sharp breath as you felt the flat of his tongue lick a fat strip over the fabric.

“I can taste you through your panties.” He spoke against your core, fingers hooking around the lace of your underwear before tugging them down.

You helped him kick them off, watching as he rose to his knees, chucking the pale blue piece of clothing to the hardwood floor. His tented boxers were prominent, his arousal on full display leaving your mouth to water. You motioned for him to free himself, reaching to grab the hem of his navy blue boxers. He acted upon your request, letting the fabric drop down to pool around his ankles as his erection sprung free. God, you wanted him so bad. It was silent for a moment, the two of you remarking each other’s bodies. You felt a blush creep up to your cheeks as you watched him observe your now bare body, eyes scanning to take in every inch and curve as you did the same to his. Namjoon was ethereal, his golden skin shone against the morning sunlight as his toned body flexed deliciously with every movement. A tongue poked past the corner of his mouth, swiping over his bottom lip as you squirmed in discomfort, suddenly feeling shy. You had been together for almost two years yet you still felt insecure when it came to him basking in your nudity. You remembered the way he looked at you the very first time you two had become intimate. You remembered how sweet he was, how he tried to make every second comfortable and memorable. He always made you feel so immaculate.

Namjoon groaned, “You are so beautiful, _____.”

Nudging your legs apart before dipping his body comfortably between your legs, he drew soothing circles around your inner thighs. His mouth parted in utter awe of the marvellous view in front of him. Mine. Was all he could think to himself as his eyes scoured the wet slick that laid before him. She’s all mine. Arms looping around your thighs, you yelped as Namjoon slid you closer to him. Goodness, how wet you were when velvety kisses sprinkled across the insides of your upper thighs. Just a little closer— You screwed your eyes shut, impatient avidity coursing through your veins. Your hips didn’t mean to buck but they did and Namjoon growled in disapproval, punishing you with a cool blow against your heat through his lips. He hadn’t even touched you yet, but your fingers frantically clutched the white, satin sheets around you in desperation for what was about to come. Granting you the touch you’ve wanted the most, the tip of his tongue gingerly dabbed the top of your clit. Your legs tensed from the little touch, your lungs releasing in a sigh. Namjoon liked to take his time with you, that much was evident. He preferred long, torturous foreplay to ensure your pleasure was always top priority before his own. He was a wonderful lover, sensual, playful yet dominating all in one. Your breath hitched as another lick dipped between your sopping wet folds, his wet muscle collecting every ounce of your arousal in one giant stroke. It drove you mad to look past your lashes and gather a view of his head between your legs. It was sacrilegious how much it turned you on, your animalistic drive causing you to become almost rapacious as you threaded your fingers through his blonde locks and gripped rather tightly. Namjoon hissed against your core at your abrupt aggression yet he found himself enjoying how wild he was making you. He decided to spare you, another stroke of his tongue sinking between your labia, this time keeping the flicks brief and quick. Your back arched off the mattress of your shared bed, fingers loosening in grip and running through the field of his hair as the tip of his nose kept brushing past the hood of your oh so sensitive clit. This is brutal. Defiance and greed riddled your consumed thoughts, your fingers once again gripping into his hair rather harshly and hips pushing out to shove his tongue deeper into your hole. Namjoon didn’t complain, continuing his ministrations yet skilfully avoiding your throbbing clit. You wondered how he himself had so much self-control. If he was growing just as impatient as you, he didn’t show it. You moaned an exhale, a lick finally reaching the tip of your aching clit. Flicking the nub with his tongue, a diffident index finger slid up your hot slick as if to test the waters. You did not have the endurance to stand his teasing, once again, bucking your hips up into his mouth, trying to silently tell him what you wanted. Namjoon wasn’t a fan of silent demands.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He purred, head raising to glance your way, past your heaving, bare chest.

“Your mouth, your tongue, your fingers, please, please please, anything.” You breathed out, bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

Namjoon used a thumb to stroke from the bottom of your folds to the top of your clit, the actions causing your body to shudder. Without hesitation, his lips latched around your clit, poking a tongue out to flick at the bud while simultaneously sucking. Fuck. You let out a moan mixed with a strangled cry, the sound like a melody to Namjoon’s ears. His third digit ran up your folds before sinking into your hole, the feeling clouding your head with pure pleasure. Oh…he’s so good with his mouth. He was relentless now, his past tantalizingly slow deliveries now feverish and unrelenting. Each flick of his tongue caused the knot to tie tighter and tighter in your stomach, ready to snap, so close to snapping. Namjoon’s finger was soaked, adding another. His pace was transient yet so deliciously deep, curling at the perfect angle to have his name fall from your lips.

“Fuck!” A particular stretch of his fingers caused your legs to close around his head, encompassing it between your thighs. Namjoon used his free hand to push them back apart, refraining you from shying away and to feel every ministration. Oh goodness, it was blissful.

“I’m gonna…I-I—” It was a tsunami.

Your body jerked and clenched as the euphoric sentiment hit you harder than a train full of bricks speeding at 120 km a minute. You cried out his name, your voice unable to remain steady. Your fingers were tightly woven through Namjoon’s hair and your hips pushed so far against his face, you almost thought you were suffocating him. Namjoon didn’t mind though, happily lapping every last drop of your climax into his mouth as you rode out your high. Not stopping, he continued flicking and sucking on your clit, your lips quivering, body shaking with intensity as he edged you to overstimulation, licking and sucking like he was starved man given his first meal in a month. You loved the feeling of being overstimulated, something Namjoon was very much aware of. He knew you enjoyed multiple orgasms. Unlatching his lips from your nub, he also pulled his fingers out of your heat. Namjoon placed a kiss on your hip bone before pressing the pads of his three finger tips against your clit, rubbing rapidly. Your eyes were completely rolled back, your voice whimpering echoes of his name.

“I know you can come again.” He spoke, the friction of his calloused fingertips against your jittery bud, ruthless. It didn’t take long for the band to stretch again, building, waiting, ready to snap.

“Oh…my—” Snap. Your second orgasm pulled. Gush. Your body wrenched, eyes squeezing shut as your nails dug against the mattress. Your hands ached from the tight grip, knuckles white as you gasped. Faded, white dots danced along the darkness of your closed eyelids, your chest heaving in desperation for air intake.

“Holy shit, babe.” Namjoon’s voice pulled you out of your trance, your second high still lingering.

“You fucking squirted.” Your eyes shot open, arms immediately pushing your body to sit up. You looked in horror, indeed, a wet splotch pooled between your legs being present. Reading the terror in your face, he quickly interjected.

“No, baby—fuck, that’s so fucking hot, oh my god you are so incredible.” He breathed out, his hands moving down towards his angry, erect cock, holding the base of it. Your eyes followed his movement, a dry gulp moving down your throat. You wanted him so badly, despite your back to back orgasms just moments before. Namjoon’s cock was thick and tan, the head a deep hue of pink and veins protruding along the sides. How badly you wanted to lick over them. You wet your lips, a grunt escaping from your boyfriend.

“Turn around.” He commanded. Twisting your body around, you got on your hands and knees, upper body sinking down on the mattress while your ass stuck out for him. Namjoon rubbed a free hand against the skin before slapping down hard, causing a yelp to escape from you.

“Legs together.” You did as told, excitement bubbling in you for him to fill you with his delicious length. He aligned his head up with your core, rubbing the tip around in your arousal to lubricate his cock before slowly sinking into your tightness, a groan falling past his lips in satisfaction. He buried himself oh so deeply, making sure you felt every inch until your ass hit his pubic bone.

“Fuuuck…” you mewled, head burying itself into the mattress, an arm flailing out to reach for a pillow before stuffing your face into it. Letting you adjust, he grabbed a handful of your cheeks and slowly rolled out, only leaving the tip inside of you before snapping his hips forward in a hard thrust. It was so delicious, his length, his girth, the stretch. Everything about him was perfect. Namjoon's thrusts were rich, each roll of his hips hitting the edge of your g-spot. He knew your body so well at this point, every shiver of his touch let him gain a knowledge of what you enjoyed and what you weren’t a fan of. In this case, he saw how your back arched when he grabbed a handful of your ass and pounded into you, not wanting anything slow. He kept it sensual for you by burying himself deep yet keeping a continuous rhythm and leaving a trail of kisses from your shoulder and down your spine. Mixed moans and profanities filled the room, the air feeling hot as you both collected a thin film of sweat over the surface of your bodies. Namjoon could feel every clench of your walls tightening around his cock, coercing him to reach his high but he wanted to see your face. Pulling out, he placed a hand on your hip, urging you to turn around and lay on your back. You obeyed and laid flat against the mattress, legs spreading for Namjoon to comfortably fit between them. He grabbed the base of his cock in his hand, another hand grabbing your calf to hold you in place. Stroking himself a few times, he pushed the tip of his head into your cunt, both of you moaning at the feeling of the new position. He buried himself completely, dipping down to press your chests together before plumping a soft kiss to your jaw.

“Hi.” He whispered, hips unmoving regardless of being inside you. You giggled, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Hi.” You returned, a hand coming to his face to stroke his cheek. He hummed in approval, eyes closing and face turning in your hold to kiss the bottom of your palm.

“I missed seeing your face.” He mumbled against your palm. You snorted, fingers travelling up to his hair to brush the strands back. Closing the distance between you, your lips found each other in a sweet kiss. Your breath hitched when his hips rolled out, lazily thrusting back in.

“Tired?” You asked breathily, only receiving a shake of his head as a reply.

“Just want to feel you, baby.” Your heart fluttered at his words. Unlike his previous punishing pace, this time was soft and meaningful and your lips never left each other. Even if you weren’t fully kissing, his lips ghosted against yours as his hips thrusted repeatedly into you.

“And how is it that I feel?”

“Fuck, so fucking good.” He groaned into you, bringing down one of your arms from around his neck to pin it beside your head and intertwine your fingers together. His hips snapped harder while his other hand came around the back of your head to lift you closer into his broad chest, quickening his pace. You were already seeing stars, his scent heavily lingering amongst your nose.

“Come with me?” You let out a strangled ‘yes’, hips pressing up to follow his rhythmic tempo. His fingers unlaced from yours, all movement stopping briefly to adjust better to the angle that would aid in your simultaneous climax. The coolness that followed his retraction felt refreshing against your hot skin. Spreading your legs apart, Namjoon kissed the side of your calf as he rolled his hips forward again. A thumb came to press down on your clit in brisk circles and you cried out in pleasure, hands grappling for his torso. His speed was sharp, the length of his cock allowing the tip of his head to brush past your cervix and you held yourself back from not coming right then and there. Namjoon could feel your walls sporadically clenching around his cock, the feeling eliciting the most profane words to fall out of his mouth. He was so close, as were you, your breaths mingling together as one in scattered pants.

“I’m gonna—”

“I’m comi—”

You both moaned out before you felt him still and twitch against your clenched walls. Hot, fluid spilled inside you, mixing with your own orgasm as your name chanted off of Namjoon’s tongue. It was wet and then it turned sticky, Namjoon’s hips thrusting again to chase after his orgasm. He continued rubbing circles over your overstimulated clit, his maneuvers sloppy from his own climax. Your hands batted his away in a plea to stop because you were about to pass out from the number of orgasms he had pulled out of you. Your mind was heavily clouded, an instant wave of fatigue washing over you as your high collapsed on you hard. He pulled out, a stream of mixed fluids flooding out of you along with him. Sex always had to be so messy with Namjoon yet he never made it feel like a burden. Planting a kiss on your forehead, he tiptoed against the cold hardwood floors towards your attached bathroom. You got a beautiful view of his perky man butt as he strolled away, bringing the sheets that somehow ended up on the floor up to your chest. You heard the shower turn on before the bathroom door opened, a free towel in Namjoon’s hand and one wrapped around his own torso.

You frowned, “Namjoon, the sheets...they’re soaked.” He chuckled at the clear abhorrence laced in your facial features as you scooted over to hit a particular, cold and wet splotch. Bleck.

“I’ll do the laundry later,” Namjoon said. “C’mon, let’s go shower, love.” he cooed, urging you to stand up by peeling off the sheets from your body.

You beamed at him, letting Namjoon help you up because frankly, your legs were far too weak to function. He wrapped the towel around your body and let you lean on him as you wobbled towards the bathroom.

“I’ll let you do me on top of the laundry later.” You shot him an innocent grin, his brows quirking up in shock before settling into a grin of his own.

“Oh really, now?” His voice was low, somehow shooting a tingle of arousal right back down to your center. The bathroom was steamy already, the mirror fogged as the two of you stepped in.

“Jesus, you’re a monster.” You giggled, letting him unravel your towel as well as his own. You squealed when he lifted you, placing you on the counter and stippling you with kisses.

a/n: EEEEPPP!! my first fanfiction, i really hope you guys enjoyed!!! namjoon makes me so soft, i wanted to do something soft and sinful all at once hahaha. i have a lot more ideas swimming in my head and i can’t wait to put out more of my writing for you guys! a VERY special thank you to @minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong who took the precious time out of her day to look over my work; i am forever grateful to you x

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as-write-as-rain · 5 years ago

Text

Once Upon A Dream (remix) - Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: A Sleeping Beauty/Winter Soldier remix, featuring the reader as a SHIELD agent who might have powers (or just a really finely tuned intuition)

Warnings: None. If you’ve seen and enjoyed the Captain America films, you shouldn’t find anything troubling here.

The second chapter of my Fairy Tale AU for @moonbeambucky’s 5k Writing Challenge! I’d hoped to get it out sooner than this, but I’ve been under the weather.

Chapter 2

“Hey, Y/N, wait up!”

You were just heading out of the locker room, ready to get home and take a nice long bath. It’d been a long night, and even though you’d managed to catch some sleep on the jet, you still had a few too many bruises for comfort (thanks to some Algerian goons). But when you heard Natasha call your name, you paused and held the door open, waiting for her to catch up.

She gave you a grateful half-smile when she reached you, and you nodded in response as you started walking again. “How’s your back?”

She grimaced and stretched. “Eh, I’ll be alright. At least Rogers took most of the damage by crashing through the window first. Yay?”

You chuckled. “Must be nice to have super healing.” You glanced back over your shoulder, but the hallway was empty behind you. “Did he head home already?” Even as you asked the question, you felt a twinge that told you the answer was going to be no.

Sure enough, Nat was shaking her head. “He made a beeline for Fury’s office as soon as we landed.”

Now it was your turn to grimace. “I did notice he wasn’t happy when you guys got back to the jet,” you admitted. “I guess Fury will have to finally tell him about the project now. They’ve been putting it off for too long, anyway.”

Nat sighed. “Yeah, probably. I don’t think he’s gonna like it, though.”

That was the understatement of the century. “Probably not,” you agreed. You’d reached the garage, so you stopped next to your motorcycle and started putting on your helmet. “I’ll check in on him later, make sure he’s doing okay.”

She smirked and gave you a little wave as she sauntered over to her car. “Have fun.”

You scoffed a mirthless laugh. “Of course!”

As you’d predicted, Steve showed up at the Smithsonian exhibit in his honor early that afternoon; you’d noticed it seemed to be a favored destination whenever he was feeling unsure about where he fit into this modern world. He was wearing his classic “disguise” – a baseball cap – as though the top of his head was the only thing that identified him as Captain America.

Yet, it somehow seemed to do the trick; as usual, the patrons of the museum were more focused on the exhibition than on the people around them, and with the exception of one small, observant child, he maintained his anonymity. Perhaps it was because the exhibit always made him out to be something larger than life – so when he slouched in here in a nondescript cap (Cap in a cap, ha!), he was so unassuming that nobody even looked twice.

He didn’t blink an eye when you silently fell into step beside him. He’d noticed early on that you had a strongly developed intuition and you tended to follow it unflinchingly. It never steered you wrong, and you had learned to trust it – and by extension, Steve trusted it too. You appreciated that about him: that even if you couldn’t explain how you knew something, he always went with your gut anyway. That’s the kind of thing that makes a person a great team member.

And the fact that he never once treated you like it was something weird or creepy…well, that’s the kind of thing that makes someone a great friend.

You’d shown up mostly to be a comforting presence to Steve, so you didn’t impose yourself upon him or force him into conversation. You could tell that he just needed to know he wasn’t alone; other than that, you left him to his own thoughts. While he was preoccupied with his soul searching, you kept a casual eye on the crowds, and every now and then perused one of the displays. Most of them you knew by heart, and you had the video loops memorized from all your previous visits to the museum with Steve. Yet, as always, your heart stuttered when the section dedicated to James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes came into view.

Mindful of the heat rising to your face, you tried vainly to ignore the memories that flooded your mind – if recalling moments in a dream could even really be considered memories. Thankfully, Steve was too lost in his own head to notice your discomfort, and you took the opportunity to study the picture of Bucky obliquely. His eyes looked every bit as soulful as they had last night in your dream, but for some reason his hair in these pictures (and the footage) always looked weird to you.

What was it about this guy anyway, that made him such a frequent figure in your sleep? He’d been dead for 70 years – the words on the wall made this fact very clear, as did Steve’s haunting retelling of the memory that often kept him awake at night. Yet your mind couldn’t seem to accept that truth, and by now you had grown accustomed to his near-nightly presence in your dreams, for the most part.

Normally, a recurring dream would be a warning or a signal about something you needed to look out for – an omen that something was about to happen, or a sign that you needed to interpret. At least, that’s how your dreams used to be, when you were growing up. At this point, you could only vaguely remember what it was like to not dream about Bucky.

And these dreams weren’t technically recurring either. They were different every time, and the only constant was the presence of James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes. A man you’d never met, the long dead best friend of your best friend, a stranger who didn’t feel at all like a stranger. You felt like you knew him intimately – because you’d seen him, talked to him, interacted with him, pretty much every night for the last decade or so. He felt like a real person to you, and your adventures felt like real memories.

Hell, you felt significantly closer to him than you did to most people in your waking life.

Sure, sometimes Steve appeared in your dreams, too, but he was never the focus – which was strange, given that the two of you were so close in real life. It was always more like a cameo appearance, a side character; and most of the time if he did show up, you still barely even interacted with him. Bucky was always the focal point, no matter what else was going on in the dream.

The whole thing was just…weird. You couldn’t make heads or tails of it. And you’d certainly never mentioned it to anybody else. What were you supposed to say? “Hey, you know your best friend whose death traumatized you? I have lovey-dovey dreams about him all the time – long before you and I met, actually.” Yeah, no. That conversation would be super awkward, not to mention pointless; it wouldn’t change anything, other than making Steve feel uncomfortable.

And who else could you tell? Natasha would jump all over you and tease you about it, and anyone else…well, you couldn’t be assured that word wouldn’t get back to Steve. After all, Bucky was his friend, someone he actually knew and cared deeply for. For you to dream about him was the equivalent of dreaming about a celebrity, someone you’d never actually met and only knew about through second- or third-hand stories. And if people knew you dreamed about him pretty much every night? They’d think you were more than a little obsessive. And honestly, who could blame them?

Shaking your head to clear it, you tried to bring your mind back to the present. You filed into the darkened alcove behind Steve, and joined him on the bench to watch the much-loved interview with Peggy Carter. This was the room that Steve generally spent the most time in, and you could probably repeat her speech verbatim if someone asked you to. So, in order to keep your mind off the things you really didn’t want to think about right now, you set yourself an objective: trying to count how many times Director Carter blinked during her interview.

Outside the museum, you and Steve checked out one of the food trucks lining the Mall, then sat down on a nearby bench to enjoy your treats. A cool breeze blew across the grass to ruffle your hair, and you spied a handful of colorful kites soaring high above. Down closer to the Washington Monument, a trio of college students tossed a Frisbee back and forth. To the rest of the world, it was a lovely late spring day, perfect for relaxing: sunny and warm, but yet not close enough to summer to be hot. You would have loved to join in, if it weren’t for this pesky foreboding that wouldn’t seem to leave you alone.

Steve smiled with nostalgia as he opened his Cracker Jack box. “I can’t believe they still make this stuff,” he mumbled, pouring the mix into his hand and shoving it in his mouth.

You grinned. “Does it still taste the same?”

His expression turned thoughtful as he crunched. He took another mouthful to be sure. “I feel like it tastes even better than I remember? But it’s not like I got to eat it all the time,” he hastened to add. “It was mostly a special occasion food, saved for ballgames and stuff.”

You nodded in understanding, and tore open your package of Astronaut Ice Cream. You’d bought it in the Air & Space gift shop while anticipating his arrival; it made for a great snack, and you didn’t even have to keep it cold. Sure, it tasted a little like cardboard, but the flavor had grown on you somehow.

The two of you munched in silence for a bit, watching the chattering crowd of schoolchildren who were amassing nearby. Harried teachers were attempting to wrangle them into organized groups, desperately counting heads to ensure all their charges were present. Some of the less-obedient children were running around harassing mobs of pigeons, frightening them into flight like feathered bowling pins. You chuckled at their antics, but Steve remained pensive.

“Did you know?” He eventually asked. He kept his voice low, out of habit; one never knew who could overhear.

You didn’t have to look at him to know exactly what he was asking, but you attempted to make light of the situation. “About Cracker Jacks? Yes, I’ve actually been an expert in eating them since early childhood.”

He snorted. “It’s called Cracker JACK. Singular. You wouldn’t call it ‘pop corns’ would you?” Bantering with Steve was always comforting; but before you could do more than smirk in response, he dropped his voice again, adding, “And you know that’s not what I was talking about, Y/N.”

Behind your sunglasses, your eyes casually skimmed the vicinity, making sure no one was near enough to listen in. “I knew,” you admitted quietly. “Fury briefed Nat and me at the same time. I warned him you should know too, but he made me promise not to say anything. He wanted to be the one to tell you.” You dropped your gaze to your silver packet of half-eaten pink styrofoam.

Steve sighed. “I don’t like it, Y/N.” He folded up his Cracker Jack box, and tossed it into a nearby trashcan with casual skill, as though it were perfectly natural to throw something that far with barely any effort. “But I suppose you already knew that.”

You nodded, studying him out of the corner of your eye. He didn’t seem angry, or even upset. He just seemed…morally troubled. His struggle was intellectual, rather than emotional – though no less agonizing. You put a comforting hand on his arm, hoping to reassure him. “I don’t like it either, honestly. The whole thing gives me a bad feeling.”

He frowned. “Well, that makes me feel even better.”His sarcasm made you bark a laugh, even though this was no laughing matter.

“I’m not going to caramel-coat it, Steve, something is going on. Something just beyond what we can see.” You leaned forward, elbows on your knees. “Precisely what, I don’t know. But I’m working on figuring that out.”

Steve let out a long breath you hadn’t been aware he was holding. Slowly, he stood, wiping the crumbs off his hands. “Well, I guess I’m just going to have to be patient. If anyone can get to the bottom of it, it’s you.” He beamed at you, and you returned his smile. You felt honored that he had that much faith in you.

You just hoped you wouldn’t let him down.

He bid you adieu, saying something about visiting an old friend. You knew exactly which old friend he meant, but you let him have his privacy. It’s not like you were interested in tagging along – and besides, you had a mystery to solve.

After he left, you slumped back against the bench with a frustrated growl, clenching your fists. The crinkle in your hand reminded you that you had yet to finish your snack, which perked you up immediately. You popped another piece in your mouth while you ruminated over the evidence at hand.

The mission yesterday had gone mostly to plan, but you’d been having a strange feeling for awhile now that had increased acutely while you were on the Lemurian Star. What was Jasper Sitwell doing on a launch ship in the middle of the Indian Ocean? What answers lay encoded in that data that Nat stole from the ship’s hard drive?

Your sixth sense was going crazy, filling you with an uneasy dread and the certainty that something bad was on the horizon. But what? And what would be the best course of action to take, if you wanted to avoid it – or, at the very least, minimize the damage?

As you crunched away, you tuned into your deeper intuition, trying to determine the root of your growing alarm. Suddenly you stopped mid-chew, nearly choking on the vaguely-strawberry space dust as you gasped at a sudden impulse: you needed to call Director Fury immediately.

Or better yet, Maria Hill.

#taras5kwritingchallenge #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #fairy tale au #marvel #once upon a dream (remix)

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tarithenurse · 6 years ago

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On my mind, in my soul - 10

Prompt: (Anon) “Natural” by Imagine Dragons, Asgard, Loki’s helmet. Pairing: Loki x Burglar!reader. Content: Swearing as usual (I think), angsting, pining, worrying due to illness, arguing, fluffing (Yes! You read that right: FLUFF.). A/N: Please feel free to reblog if you liked it <3 Or comment! Thanks to all of those who’ve been waiting patiently through the last while of scheming, but hey...now I’ve got a few chapters lying ready.

Patience

It’s annoyingly difficult to stalk with rage in each step when you’re still weak from having been poisoned. If you could have, however, then the footsteps would have been sharp against the stones on the way through the palace. As it is, you’re using every ounce of energy simply to keep up with the two royal men and the surrounding guards.

At least you pay attention to the route. Valhalla’s grand, filled with numerous chambers, halls, and stairs that would make it easy to get lost. You’ve got a method which always has helped you memorize a new place…just in case you’ll need to navigate through the building alone and possibly while being chased. Occupational hazard. Admittedly, if you had to run now, you probably wouldn’t move quickly at all.

Maybe Thor notices your physical discomfort. Maybe he’s simply as curious as the electric-blue eyes shimmering at you leads to think. Slowing his steps, he falls back to walk by your side and even offers an impressively muscular arm to lean on which you take after a brief hesitation. If he’d hurt me, then he’d already have done so.

With his support, you manage to descend several levels, leaving the light of day behind in favour of brazier-fueled shadows that jump and dance when people pass. Down past heavily locked and guarded doors to a room that seems a hybrid between a fancy gallery and old dungeons. Invisible walls shimmer with fragmented lines of gold, somehow containing the bright illumination as if the wall were solid concrete. Descending a number of steps brings the contents of the two first “rooms” in view. One on either side, and each with what must constitute for prisoners here in Asgard.

“Why’re we here?” you demand, unafraid of which etiquettes you’re breaking.

Not bothering to pause or look back, Odin leaves it up to his son to answer. “You recall the warning Loki was given? That the donation of his blood could cause him his life?”

“…yeeah?” Gods…no. Not that. Please don’t…

“He seemed to think it was a price worth paying as he otherwise would be at the mercy of Odin due to having entered the realm uninvited.” His eyes dance around, landing on the cells and the floor…anywhere but you before he points to a cell a few yards up ahead. “He will not escape the punishment for his transgressions.”

Shoving ahead of the group, you stumble to the raised area of the cell, catching yourself on the barrier as you stumble over the ledge. You’re faintly aware of mixed reactions behind you, but it doesn’t matter because all you see is a room where ice spreads from a single, blue figure lying on a bed. Loki. The effect of his natural form is raging unchecked and it should frighten you…perhaps. All it does is turn fear to joy. He’s alive.

“Loki!” Your yell only stirs a few snowflakes that are gliding through the air on the other side of the barrier. “Loki!”

A heavy but gentle hand latches on to your shoulder and isn’t shaken off. “Lady [Y/N], he cannot hear you. He’s beyond reach,” Odin explains gently.

“Then let me in there so he can hear me!”

“It is not due to any barrier of our world.” Turning you, an old eye scans your face. “He may be alive…but the procedure took its toll.”

The words click fast enough, but the king’s choice is beyond your grasp. “Then why’s here in there? Send him to a hospital!” How can he be so cruel?

“He is being treated by our healers, Midgardian. However, this is the safest place to keep him until his powers are under control once more.”

That…kinda makes sense. Looking over your shoulder, only a magical veil obstructs the view to the unconscious Loki. A blanket’s spread over him but it doesn’t quite cover the tall frame so blue shoulders are left exposed save for where a few tendrils of black hair reaches. You could look at him all day. Will him to wake up.

In this house of mine? Nothing ever comes without a consequence or cost, tell me

…

It had been a surprise when the king wanted you to stay as long as was needed, even more so when he hadn’t objected when Thor recommended you were moved to another room. You didn’t care much even if it was a veritable suite with perfect view and lavish furniture, preferring instead to spend as much time as you could by the cell. The guards had gotten used to you, greeting you with smiles when you arrived and if there’d been any changes in Loki’s status then they’d undoubtedly let you know. There just wasn’t.

The last rays of sun are slipping past a layer of clouds, finally bringing some warmth into the room. If you would pay any attention, then you could marvel at the amber gleam of the wood, or the many shimmering hues of green woven into the drapes at either side of the wide windows and balcony doors. Instead you’re staring into one of the many books this room contains without actually seeing the page or what’s written on it. It’s the knocking on the door that brings you back to the present.

“Enter.”

It’s probably yet another servant. Of all the differences you’re getting accustomed to here on Asgard, it’s the staff that are making you feel the most out of place, especially because they all seem to find you more adorable than actually special. Sure, they’re perfectly polite. They just happen to talk to you as though you were a child.

“Lady [Y/N],” the deep rumble belongs to the only prince capable of walking the castle freely, “may I keep you company for a while?”

You can hardly refuse and soon Thor has dragged over another gigantic chair next to the one you sit in and set down a flask and two goblets. Watching bemused, you mentally note the difference of liquid he pours into the goblets but choose not to comment as he passes you the one with the least in. A careful sniff clears your sinuses instantaneously, but the honeyed scent is too good to resist for long, so you accept the quiet toast. Holy fuck! The alcohol burns sweet and strong, triggering all the right taste buds.

“You may want to drink with caution,” Thor warns as you down the remaining mouthful, “Midgardians are more…susceptible to our liquors.”

“Oh. Okay.” You’ve barely placed the goblet on the table before you feel the slight buzz which normally would require a lot more to drink.

Silence reigns. Oppressing. Loaded with unspoken thoughts, most of which (at least on your behalf) are related to Loki and his situation. So, he’s a stalker with a conscience…big deal. Still, there’s no way you can pretend the flutter in your stomach doesn’t appear each time you think of being near him (in a more conscious state), or the paralyzing dread by the idea that Loki might not survive. Even the thought of him being stuck in a prison cell while you’re free to live your life somehow seems unbearable. I don’t owe him! He chose to save…save me oh crap. Not only had he saved you, he’d even tried to warn you. And he’d confided in you.

“Why did Loki attack New York?”

Shifting in his seat, Thor thinks for a while before answering. “I shouldn’t tell anyone this…but I’m willing to do an exception in your case...” A sip from the goblet buys him more time. “The full tale is much longer…but there had been certain…event.” Grabbing the flask, both cups are given a generous refill. “My brother was distraught, acting out of despair and spite…sorrow…” A drink is shared, renewing the buzz in your head. “He left us and fell into the hands of a very evil being who…broke him…”

“A titan.” Your comment makes Thor eye you with surprise. “Loki told me a gruesome story full of torture and brainwashing…I guess I kinda hoped it’d been a lie.”

“You would rather see him commit those crime voluntarily?”

“Of course not! I just don’t want him to…to…”

“Trust you?” You shrug at the suggestion. “[Y/N]…I do not claim to understand the nature of the relationship between my brother and you. But I know he’s good at heart, and that circumstances beyond his control have forced him to build a façade, to keep people at an arms length.”

…

There’s so much you want to know, but you don’t know how to and the liquor’s beginning to cloud your brain. It’s not until Thor’s about to leave and offhandedly remarks whom the room belonged to, that your mind jumps back into action.

“I used to sneak in here at night, as a little boy, if I couldn’t sleep,” the god smiles, “often Loki would be awake too and we’d play until we ended up being too noisy and the maid or mother would hear us.” A shimmer of bittersweet joy is visible in the rugged face, but it’s soon gone and Thor bids you goodnight.

Loki’s room. Leaning against the closed door, you take in the place, noticing the colour scheme and items reflecting the interests Loki still entertain on Earth. All the books (or at least those you’ve been able to decipher) cover a range of subjects and genres, forming a perfect foundation for someone who wishes to be well-spoken…even silver-tongued. I should’ve seen it. The entire room is a treasure trove of information on the one person you need to know everything about.

Rather be the hunter than the prey And you're standing on the edge, face up 'cause you're a…

…

Dividing your time more or less equally between your own basic needs, watching over Loki, and exploring his room meticulously, it takes a few days before there’s only a single chest left unopened…and still the god is unconscious.

“Lady [Y/N],” one of the usual guards greets you as you enter the dungeon, “I’m afraid there has been no change overnight.”

For the untrained eye, it could almost look as if he really is sorry, but there is a shadow of relief that not even the most rigorous training can smother.

“It’s oka– it’s fine.” Placate him. What you want to achieve requires all the pity you can make him feel. “I don’t expect he’ll recover…not before I have to leave, anyways.”

“You’re leaving?”

Gaze downcast, you shrug awkwardly. “I don’t belong here…even though everyone treats me kindly, there’s no…joy for me here. Just pain.”

“Is there anything we can do to ease your troubled heart?”

“I…it’s…what I want isn’t possible.” Sheer willpower (and a bit of bad memories) makes the vision of your shoes go blurry with tears and you can finally look up.

A split-second of shock and discomfort is all it takes before the guard’s mind has been made up. “Tell me what I can do.”

A beating heart of stone You gotta be so cold To make it in this world

… Loki’s PoV …

A fistful of bright heat has appeared in the midst of the soothing cool enveloping Loki’s body. A part of it wants to shake it away because it burns his skin where it touches…but mostly he wants the sweet pain the stay. To remind him of something…important. Nay…someone? It would fit with the soft hum of a gentle voice that has infused the dreamlike state Loki has revelled in since…

Memories rattle the calm, sets the god fighting against the paralyzing dream that has numbed his thoughts until now. I must wake up. He recalls everything up to the moment where darkness took him. Death, he had thought, but this cannot be death after all because the voice belongs to [Y/N] and she must have survived.

“…waiting……all very……why did…”

Bits and pieces of a one-sided conversation are recognizable by now, spurring Loki on. The heat he’s been feeling takes form of a hand, fingers entwined in his own and although he doesn’t dare move or open his eyes just yet, he knows how little it is in the blue of his own limb. Shivers run all the way to [Y/N]’s fingertips. She’s cold. Grasping for the magic within to shift into the warmer, gentler form of an Asgardian, Loki finds that he has nothing left to work with.

“…”

He can’t get the words out to get the Midgardian to leave, to find a warm place rather than linger in the cold he emanate. Finally wrenching his eyelids up, the white room nearly blinds him until he manages to find the darker shape that is the woman. Wrapped in a cloak, she huddles on something by the floor of his bed, probably preferring to sit there so she can hold his hand.

Testingly, Loki squeezes the slender fingers, and all sounds stills. Even her breathing. Once more, then.

“Loki?” A trill of hope’s laced into that single uttering.

As their eyes meet, [Y/N]’s begin to well up with tears of joy that fall on her cheeks to freeze into beads of glittery ice. It’s a sight he could admire all day, but he’s given very little time to do so before her face looms tauntingly over his, the smiling lips whispering his name before finding his. Cold and heat mingle beautifully, proving that this is no dream. The kisses taste of ocean and fruits, the crisp air smells like heaven, and a shy face beams down at Loki when it comes to a halt.

“Loki…”

“Mmmmm?” He can’t help the smile from stretching his lips.

“You. Are.” A delicate finger taps the tip of the blue nose. “A complete and bloody moron!”

The smile disappears, replaced by surprise and angrily furrowed brows. “What –?”

“Why the hell would y’ give up your freedom let alone risk your fucking life?! Fine!” Even the time it takes for [Y/N] to draw in air is too short to get a word in. “So you’ve claimed y’ care about me ‘n whatnot! What am I s’posed to do with that if you go ‘n sacrifice yourself like some some…uhh!”

Loki can fell how dry his throat is when he tries to talk again. “If this is your way of thanki–“

“Thanking?” Pretty eyebrows shoot upwards in protest. “Yes, thank you for saving my life.” She sounds as sarcastic as I can. “And for placing me in an impossible position where I’m in debt to a fucking god and his freaking family!”

“The debt owed was mine. We’re even now.”

“Oh really? Just like that?” [Y/N] wipes away tears from her hectically warm cheeks. “From where I stand the scales are out o’ balance.”

By Odin’s beard, she’s stubborn. “It’s of no concern right now, at least. Alright?” A shrug and then a nod makes it out for an answer. “Tell me instead…why are you here? Is the All-Father not letting you leave?”

“H’agreed to let me stay for a while…” [Y/E/C] doesn’t meet Loki’s but are trained on their hands that still are locked together. “They took me t’ see you when I woke up…y’re just lyin’ here...”

Loki knows better than to say anything as the woman explains the part of the events she has witnessed. The words themselves hold little value, it’s the tone and the facial expressions that captivates the Trickster because it tells much more than [Y/N] intends. Yes, she has been cared for. Yes, she feels indebted after her life has been saved. Yet none of that is the true concern harboured in her heart, and even if she realises what the cause really is, she still hasn’t got the words. Eventually, she quiets, eyes partially following the path of her thumb over Loki’s knuckles and back.

That’s how Odin and Thor finds them after a guard has hurried slowly to alert them of Loki’s consciousness.

… Reader’s PoV …

The castle is going to sleep, and you’re sitting on the soft rug, finally calmed down enough to use the improvised tools you’ve created to pick the lock on the chest. Alright, tools might still be too grand a term. It’s a couple of hair and shawl pins, a fork with bent prongs, and a thin dagger. Asgardian locks are slightly different from the standard Midgardian type, but it only takes a few attempts before you’ve managed to gain access and lift the lid.

“Oh.”

You’re not sure what you should have expected…but it wasn’t a deep green, velvet pillow in the bottom with one object resting upon it. Colden horns the length of your forearm are curving upwards from the headgear. Picking it up slowly, you turn the familiar crown-like item over and over in your hands, careful not to poke yourself in the face with the horns. Antlers.

A silly thought pops into your mind, prompting you to rush over to the tall mirror by the wardrobe and place the iconic accessory on you head. It’s a tad too big, wobbling when you move and needs to be stabilized to prevent it from sliding crooked. Still…I get it. This is power in an object.

“I see you understand the appeal,” a smooth voice announces from behind you.

A mix of fear and embarrassment freezes you in place rather than turn towards the door, but in the mirror, you see Loki being ushered into the room by a couple of guards and Thor before the door closes again. You hear the lock click, but that doesn’t matter because the green eyes are burning.

#On my Mind in my Soul #loki x reader #loki x you #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki angst #loki pining #loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki marvel #loki mcu #Loki Laufeyson x reader #Loki odinson x reader #asgard #Thor Odinson #thor #odin #Valhalla #Loki lemon series

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