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the-guilty-writer · 2 years

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Is This Home?

Request from anon: Can you do Derek ! Daughter reader (15) she’s still getting used to savannah being there with them, and maybe she gets upset that they don’t hang out as much because of her, and reader has a breakdown and leaves the house in the middle of the night and she gets lost and hides in an abandoned house until someone finds her (maybe a neighbor of Derek’s) and they call Derek to come get reader and she’s just like no I don’t wanna talk to him and he sits down and is like listen I know you don’t like me being with someone since your mom and I understand that but you will always be my baby, and they go home that night and she sleeps in the middle of them

Derek Morgan x daughter!reader

Summary: Ever since Savannah moved in with you and your dad, you feel like you’ve been losing him. The night he forgets about your special father-daughter time you flee to a place that feels more homey than your actual home.

A/N: I changed it up the abandoned house part just a little bit because I thought this would make it more meaningful, but overall I tried to stick as close to the request as possible. I hope you like it!

CW: I had fun with swear words in this one (I swore a lot when I was 15. Tbh I still do.), reader's mother is dead, kinda angsty with a fluffy ending. Reader loves her Aunt Penny.

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“Alright, (Y/N). You think you can hold down the fort tonight?” Your dad, Derek, asked playfulling, putting a hand on your shoulder before leaning over the couch to look at you.

You put down your phone and made a face. “It’s Sunday night,” you said.

“Yes,” he said, drawing out the Y sound like he always did when you said something obvious. “Which means that I trust you’ll be in bed by the time Savannah and I get home from our night out.”

“But-” you started, but it didn’t matter; your dad was already headed upstairs to get ready for his date. The only way he would hear you now was by yelling to remind him that you two ALWAYS did movie night on Sunday. Your mom had died when you were ten and since then your dad had made it a point to spend as much of his free time with you as possible. Unless he was away on a case, movie nights were never interrupted. For five years that was how it had been.

And then Savannah came along.

She wasn’t a bad person. She wasn’t mean. But she wasn’t your mom and sometimes it felt like she was taking your dad away from you. The first time it happened, her and Derek had just started dating. You were so happy that your dad was happy you failed to notice that the same day he took her to the park was the day he was supposed to take you to the firing range. The second time it happened you took the metro from school straight to Quantico to show him that you’d gotten straight A’s on your report card, only to find that he had left work on time for once to take Savannah to see a play (at least your Uncle Spencer was impressed and Aunt Penny took you to get ice cream on the drive home). The third time it happened was the day Savannah moved in with the two of you. The Saturday that was supposed to be spent practicing for your judo certification was instead spent lifting and moving boxes.

Since then it had all gone downhill so fast. Dinners that were usually spent on the couch with just you and your dad shooting the shit about sports turned into dinners at the table making small talk about what everyone’s day was like. The messages he sent to you every night when he was away on a case came to your phone half the time and Savannah’s the other half. Even restoring houses with your dad wasn’t the same anymore. You loved to sit around the table with him and pick out colors for the walls from the swatches he brought home, but of course he had to show the options to Savannah first. She always seemed to throw out the fun colors in favor of more “tasteful” ones before you could give your opinion.

And now your dad was ditching you on movie night to take her out to dinner.

If she was a serial killer you wouldn’t have minded- you were used to your dad having to miss movie night to catch criminals- but he was abandoning you for his girlfriend. His girlfriend. You would much rather have been ditched because Hannibal Lecter was on the loose running wild through some town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere than be left alone so your father could go out to dinner with some woman you hadn’t known for all that long. SSA Derek Morgan would have a good excuse for missing movie night then, but he wasn’t a Supervisory Special Agent right now- he was your dad… and he forgot about you.

You went up to your room, not bothering to turn off the TV which already showed which movie you had picked for that night. Sitting on your bed, you picked up the picture of your mom that sat on your nightstand. You weren’t sure if you were listening for an answer from her spirit, or if you were just lost in the moment of missing her, but it felt like you looked at her picture for hours.

There was a knock on your door. You put the picture of your mom down before calling, “Come in!”

Derek was dressed up a bit more than normal- he traded his typical leather jacket for a blazer and his jeans for casual slacks. “So?” He spun in a circle. “How do I look?”

“Like you asked Uncle Dave for fashion advice,” you told him- if there was one thing you were in the Morgan household, it was honest.

“Okay, ouch.” Your dad brought his hand to his chest. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” you said. “The slacks make you look old. Wear black jeans instead.”

Derek smiled. “Okay, well I’m gonna be late since I have to change again. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, dad. I-”

The door shut.

“Love you,” you whispered to yourself. You picked up the picture of your mom again, gazing into her fearless eyes. Oh, mom, you thought to yourself, or maybe you were praying to her. You really didn’t know which one. What am I going to do?

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You rolled over and looked at the clock- unable to sleep. It was nearly midnight and you dad still wasn’t back yet. How long was dinner supposed to take? How had your dad forgotten about movie night? How had your dad forgotten to tell you he loved you? The questions spiraled in your head over and over again, anxiety building in your gut until you burst into tears.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t be in your room, or the house, or anywhere that made you think about how your dad had forgotten about you. You were still in your clothes from the day, having been too upset to change into pajamas. Silently crying you ran down the stairs and out of the house- needing to get as far away from it as possible.

The logical part of your brain knew that this was the best possible way to get kidnapped- a young girl running down the street alone in the dark was the start to just about every horror movie ever. But the logical part of your brain wasn’t working. All you knew was that you had to run.

You were lost in your thoughts and high from the adrenaline that you lost track of where your legs had taken you. Your vision adjusted to the dark and you looked around. You were somewhere you had been before, but you weren’t sure exactly where. If it was light outside you might be able to pinpoint a landmark or a trail and find your way back, but the night was dense. All there was to do was walk.

Your head was starting to ache from crying and your legs were beginning to feel weary. The taste of copper filled your mouth from running in the coolness of the night. You needed a place to stay but you didn’t want to go home. In the distance you spotted street lights- they were dim but it was better than nothing. Maybe from there you could find a metro stop to take you closer to your Aunt Penny’s- surely she would let you stay with her for the night.

The closer you got to the lights the more you recognized your surroundings. The neighborhood was older, but still in a safe location. The houses were charming on the outside, with wrap-around porches and large grassy yards. You knew the place because Derek had bought a house here years ago, when it was just the two of you. It had always been part of his dream to restore a house like it so he insisted that he would wait for the perfect time to start the project.

Of course there was no such thing as perfect timing. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t touched the house in years. Most of his other restorations were bought and sold within months, but this one just sat. The only evidence that he owned the place at all was that he mowed the lawn every two weeks.

You walked up to the front door and pulled a bobby pin from your pocket, picking the old lock with ease and making your way inside. The house was bare of any furniture or decorations. Paint was flaking off the walls and old plastic covered the hardwood floors. You walked around the house, imagining what it would be like to see the place restored in all its glory- with new crown molding and fresh hardware on the doors. You imagined it with a fresh coat of paint and pictures on the walls.

But at the moment it looked abandoned, withered, and unloved- just like how you felt.

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It was 1 AM when Derek got a call from an unknown number. The first time he let it go to voicemail, but when the same number called him two more times he had to pick it up. At first he thought it was a prank call- some kid trying to mess with him that one of his houses had been broken into by his own daughter- but when he got home and saw that you weren’t in your room he knew it was true.

He was sure that he broke every speed limit getting to the house, but he didn’t care. What was so wrong that you felt like you had to run away? What had happened and how had he not seen it?

Derek pulled into the driveway and jumped out of the car, Savannah right behind him. His neighbor was standing in the driveway holding a flashlight, waiting for him to arrive.

“Thanks for calling,” Derek greeted the woman- she was a nice older lady. “I’m sorry if she bothered you.”

“Oh it’s fine,” the lady said. “I’ve raised three teenagers myself. I know how they are. She says she doesn’t want to talk to you, but deep down she really does.”

Derek sighed. “I appreciate that. If there’s anything I can do to return the favor, please let me know.” The lady smiled and gave him a pat on the shoulder before walking away.

Derek sighed heavily and turned to Savannah. “I’ll be back.”

Savannah rubbed his shoulder supportively. “You’re a great father, Derek.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze before letting go and making his way into the house.

It didn’t take him long to find you. You were curled up in a corner, legs pulled up to your chest with your face buried into your knees. You didn’t even look up when you heard his footsteps. He came closer, kneeling next to you so he was on your level, and reached out to touch your hair. At the contact, you quickly leaned away.

“(Y/N),” he said, his voice full of concern. “Please talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” Your words were sad with a slight venom behind them. “Just go away.”

Your dad sighed and sat down on the floor in front of you. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Suddenly, all the emotions from earlier came flooding back. You couldn’t help it- sobs racked your body as you pulled your limbs tighter towards your body. You kept your head down and your eyes shut tight, not wanting to even get a glimpse of your dad.

“You forgot movie night-” you managed to choke out between sobs. “You have Savannah now. You already forgot about mom and now you’re forgetting about me too.”

Derek felt his heart crack. He really had forgotten movie night- the one constant promise that your mom would always be a part of him and you. He took a deep breath and pulled you into a hug.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered. He felt his eyes begin to water. “I did forget about movie night.” He pulled back to look at your face. You had grown up so much so fast. JJ was always telling him that if he looked away for too long he would miss it entirely and he almost had. “But that doesn’t mean I forgot about your mom and it sure doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten about you. I know it’s hard to see me with someone who isn’t your mom- I get that- but Savannah isn’t replacing her. I will always love your mother and you will always be my baby girl. No matter what.”

The mention of the nickname he only ever used for you and your Aunt Penny brought the tiniest smile to your face. Derek pulled you into another hug.

“Can we go home now?” you asked quietly.

“Of course.” He kissed your forehead and pulled you to your feet, holding your hand as you walked out to the car. Savannah was standing there, a sympathetic look on her face. Your dad helped you into the back seat first before helping her into the front. You were so tired from the emotions and adrenaline that you fell asleep before the car even pulled out of the driveway.

---

Derek gently took your seatbelt off and pulled you out of the car in an effort not to wake you up. He was thankful that Savannah was there to lock the vehicle after him and open the front door so he could carry you up the stairs and towards your bedroom. If working out was good for nothing else but still being able to carry his baby girl at 15 years old, it was worth it.

“Derek,” Savannah whispered from behind him before he opened up your bedroom door. He turned to look at her. “Let her sleep in our room tonight. She’s your baby, but she isn’t going to be for much longer.”

Derek smiled softly and walked to the main bedroom, laying you down in the middle of the mattress. He looked down at your face, sleep softening your features. Changing quickly into his pajamas, he snuggled next to you, pulling your body closer to his. Savannah laid down on your other side, a gentle smile on her face as she watched the two of you together.

For the first time since your mom died, Derek felt whole- like the wound to his heart had healed over with a faint scar to remind him of what was, but allowing him to move forward.

“You know,” Derek said quietly. “I’ve let that house sit for a few years. It is kind of a dream project come true so I’ve been waiting for the right time to work on it.”

“Oh yeah?” Savannah whispered.

“Well it’s bigger than this place.” He ran a hand down your hair. “And there are more kids around (Y/N)’s age. The neighbors are nice and the school district is the same. It’s about 10 minutes closer to the hospital and Quantico.” Derek sighed. “I guess I was waiting for a time when the house could become a home.”

Savannah smiled sleepily. “You think you could make it a home?”

Derek’s smile grew. “I think we could make it a home. Together.” He still had his arms around you when he fell asleep that night and by the morning, Savannah’s arms would be around you too.

Soon there would be a restored house, with more dinners on the couch, nights you could spend with your friends when your dad and Savannah went out, a park nearby to walk in, and a large grassy yard to practice judo. But ultimately, it didn’t matter because the three of you would always see one another as home.

#criminal minds fanfiction #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x daughter!reader #derek morgan x child!reader #derek morgan x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x teen!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #criminal minds x child!reader

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elektroyu · 2 years

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Ok, this is a bit heavy, so feel free to skip this one if you're not in the mood for difficult mental stuff.

So I'm still struggling with finding something to draw for that bit of space on the watercolor sheet. I'm trying to inspire myself by going through folders of reference pics, artwork that I've saved in the past and my own artwork. But it doesn't work? All I'm achieving is that I'm getting myself very, very frustrated and overall just feeling bad about myself. My brain keeps telling me how boring I am - my art in general, my OCs, my original species, myself as a person, just everything. And I kind of get where it's coming from, since I don't have spare energy to do what healthy people do, like keeping up with friends and what they do, going outside to experience all sorts of things and whatever else would lead to inspiration, it's mostly out of reach for me. I'm already in a comparatively good spot regarding my health, others with ME/CFS can do literally nothing except for simply existing in a completely quiet, dark and lonely space every. single. day. Compared to that my life is almost normal.

But still, I'm stuck in my own bubble and the only things I can "experience" is by watching fictional people experiencing things. That's all second hand, it's not real.

Now I'm sitting here and observing what happens with me and what my brain is telling me. That's at least a start. But I'm stumped on how to argue with it. How am I telling myself that it's not true? That I'm not a boring person, that my art is not boring, when I basically agree to all that? How could I NOT be boring when I'm already at my limit doing the most basic stuff only (and often not even that, I need a lot of help with household things)? And even worse, my brain keeps telling me that if it was a lie, that if my art stuff and myself weren't boring, I would have friends and people would be interested and invested in the things I'm trying to create. If people were interested they'd talk to me about it. At least that's what my brain is telling me, and it does sound plausible, doesn't it?

Then there's the thing that in order to invite people in you have to do a lot of work first (unless one of those rare magical meetings happens where things just click immediately on both sides, but like I said, that's rare). I don't have enough stamina for that, and if I try to force myself to do it my health gets worse fast (that's the annoying thing about ME/CFS - there's no way to brute force things to get better like with literally every other kind of illness, with ME/CFS it's always and only doing less). If I could I would spend much more time and energy on other people, but alas. So no points for me on that end.

I have no idea how to break this cycle, but I've been going round and round in it for the last 2 decades and it would be really nice to find a way out. I'm really sick of it 🥲

I wonder if, at its core, this is the infamous "don't compare yourself to others" thing. And how much of it is really due to the illness and how much is just years and years of repetition of bad thoughts.

#random stuff #mental health #this is probably the most difficult thing to overcome out of all the things I need to work on #and it always comes back when I want to create something and don't know what #me/cfs #health #that reminds me that I should look for a new therapist #someone who can do video sessions #unfortunately my old one doesn't do them 🥲#is there a therapist for artists specifically #I want one who understands artists please 😂

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odetojeons · 4 years

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Until It Feels Like You’re In Heaven — Jeon Wonwoo

request: Hello do you still take requests? Your writing is amazingggg!! Thank you for existing 😭💕. Can i req a whipped dom!wonwoo x fem reader where he has a size kink and a smol gf please? I think that will be a cute concept 🥺

tags: fem and sub!reader, dom!wonwoo, size kink, tattoed and pierced jeon wonwoo just because, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (uh idk why but I never write sex with a condom help), established wonwoo x reader, a tiiiny bit of spitting kink, very light verbal humiliation, aftercare, this goes from fluff to horny really quickly, fluff if you squint (or not?), a frankly unrealistic amount of cum, OH AND, stomach bulge 🥴

a/n: so haha I am back? with more filth? I tried adding fluff (even tho I completely forgot that the person who made the request asked for whipped wonwoo, good thing this is always in my agenda every time I write so I didn't have any problems lmfao) but I'm too much of a horny bitch and a simp for this man so,, idk? tell me what you think later! I hope you all perish— I mean, like this!

Word Count: 7826

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ “Aren’t you going to help?” you question, lifting a brow at your boyfriend, who’s currently sitting in one of the chairs and supporting his chin with the palm of his hand, plate of onions that should be already cut laying untouched in front of him.

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“Nope,” Wonwoo answers, giving you that kind of smile which makes you almost, almost feel less annoyed at the fact that you’ve been trying to reach something in the upper shelves for the last five minutes and he doesn’t move his ass to help you at all. “You’re just too cute trying to reach something.”

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There’s heat creeping up your neck, cheeks tinting red, and Wonwoo's smile gets bigger, shining and full of fondness. It leaves you stunned in silence for a while. It’s hard not to be in love with him. But it’s not like you try anyways.

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“J-just hurry up, aren’t you hungry?” you cough, looking away solely because you can’t stand the warmness in Wonwoo’s face without feeling like you’re going to combust any time soon.

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“I am. I can help you out,” he states simply, but doesn’t make a move. You gesticulate with your hand, pointing at him and at the rice jar in the upper shelf. “But only if you say please, though.”

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“I’m—” laughing incredulously, you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “Would you please get the rice jar for me, sir?”

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Wonwoo stares at you for a second too long, eyes a bit dark, and gets up to get the jar, without breaking eye contact. You instinctively make yourself smaller when his bigger and broader frame hovers over you, large enough to swallow your tiny body. The size difference has always been something you both feel incredibly turned on by.

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“So small,” he appreciates, always does, and your neck burns from the intensity of your blushing. “The cutest.”

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Wonwoo puts the rice jar in your hands, the darkness in his face melting into a beam.

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“Here it goes, little girl,” he says, going back to his chair to complete the task which he has been doing for at least ten minutes now. The way he says little girl has you dumbfounded, heart hammering against your chest. “Are you just going to stand there? Do you like being called little that much?”

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“Shut up,” you admonish, blushing furiously as you turn on your back to continue what you were doing. You just hate how everything Wonwoo does affects you so much. You’re sure this must be bad for your health.

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The two of you continue your journey through cooking and eating after you’re both done with the preparations. Things with Wonwoo are always so easy, everything feels natural and domestic and the bubbling feeling of happiness you feel whenever you’re with him lulls you to fall in love with him even deeper than before.

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The way he teases you when you’re clumsy and spill sauce over yourself, but still cleans you up with the most fond smile ever, like you’re so completely adorable he can’t help himself. Or when you put more salt in the food than you should and you know it’s not that good, but he still compliments it and tells you he loves it so much, the sincerity in his eyes makes a surge of something pull at your lower stomach.

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If Jeon Wonwoo isn’t the love of your life, you don’t know who is.

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But right now you just want the ground to eat you alive and swallow you whole, because you’re standing right in front of the bed. The one bed. To which it suddenly doesn’t look big enough, not as you remember.

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Well, it’s not like you have never shared a bed before, you have even had a shit ton of sex in this exact piece of mattress, but the thing is, it’s been a while since you last saw Wonwoo. His job required him to spend three months away, and this is the first time you came to his house ever since he came back two days ago.

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You consider throwing yourself out of the window and into the dark, miserable night, thinks your poor heart will explode otherwise.

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“I’m not going to eat you.” Wonwoo’s voice carries over from the bathroom door, startling you into action. You jerk toward the bed, jumping on it and face flushing. You had showered before him, now dressed with one of his big shirts.

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It fell all the way to your mid thigh, the size difference between the two of you making you almost drown on the fabric of his clothes. It smells nice, smells like Wonwoo, and your cheeks burn when he drinks the sight of you in with dark eyes, not even trying to hide.

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“Unless you want me to,” he adds, not helping your situation at all.

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BSHANDJAJSND?, your brain supplies.

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“Oh my god,” you admonish, yanking the blanket off the bed and just as you get in, your eyes hone in on the ink swirling up Wonwoo’s right biceps. You have seen the tattoo through the pictures he sent you before, the snake crawling up to his shoulder, head stopping at his right chest.

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This is, however, the first time you’ve seen the metal bar through one of Wonwoo’s nipples — to which you already knew the existence of, but looking in person is totally different —, heat winding in the pit of your belly as you realize the snake is looking right at that same nipple. Unfortunately for your poor heart, he’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweats, hanging low on his hips, slim waist on display.

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Wonwoo is… hot.

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There’s no other way to put it despite your best efforts. He looks like one of those Greek statues, rippling muscle and hand carved abs, the cut of his jaw too sharp to be real. Your mouth waters and you can’t look away.

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And Wonwoo has been changing. He always had the thin type of body, being slim and tall, but in the end of last year he started exchanging the lazy hours he spent gaming with animated workouts at the gym — something about the way he was wasting his precious time of life and he could be acquiring knowledge and being healthy instead of sitting in front of a computer for hours —, and holy fuck if the result wasn’t quite the damn view.

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You draw the blanket right up to your chin, back very purposefully to Wonwoo’s side of the bed as you’re still trying to stop the mild heart attack you have going on. You don’t want to see him climbing into bed for safety purposes but that doesn’t mean your heart rate doesn’t spike up when the bed dips. When Wonwoo settles down under the same blanket, your brain very enthusiastically — and meaningfully — points out that you’re only a few centimeters away and that there’s nothing separating you.

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His abs flash behind your eyes and you nearly throw the blanket off, ready to storm out of the room and sleep on the sofa instead. You let out a breath you don’t even know you’re holding when Wonwoo flicks the flight off, the room disappearing into darkness, before he turns on the red leds from under his bed.

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You feel warm all over with the fact that he still remembers you don’t like sleeping in complete darkness.

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You try not to tense too much when he drapes an arm around your waist, locking you in. Your legs tangle together as he adjusts himself better, the other arm coming behind your head to serve as a pillow. Now you’re not only dying from the closeness but as well essentially drooling over the bulge of his thick biceps.

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Congratulations universe for managing to make you even more desperate.

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You’re not sure how long you just lie there, staring out the window, unable to fall asleep. Your brain doesn’t want to shut off, a blaring alarm of Jeon Wonwoo going off in your head.

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“I missed you so much,” Wonwoo says as if he read your thoughts, voice soft and filled with warmth, and you find yourself immediately melting in his arms despite your nervousness. “Thought I was going crazy without you, munchkin.”

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There’s a hard squeeze in your heart. You just love so much when he calls you that.

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“Missed you too,” you admit with a smile, the tip of Wonwoo’s nose dragging through your hair as he inhales the smell of his own shampoo. “Missed your smell.”

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“Just my smell?” Wonwoo teases with a light tone, caressing his free hand on your inner thigh. It was supposed to be a feather-like gesture, but the closeness between the two of you made your body oversensitive, and you find yourself moaning softly as your skin rocks with a shiver.

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Wonwoo tenses immediately when he hears the sound, hand stuttering to a stop. There’s a beat of what you call the most painful silence you ever had — your mind swirls with the thought that you just ruined the mood, face heating up uncontrollably at your own neediness —, before his fingers sink into the flesh of your inner thigh, startling you with the strength behind his grip.

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“Answer me.”

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You whine louder this time, the realization of his change of tone going from fond to an irrevocable order sinking wanton deep within your lower stomach. You try to close your legs, but Wonwoo’s leg stops you where it rests right in the middle of them, dangerously close to your throbbing core. You wonder if he could feel the heat emanating from it.

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“N-no,” you begin, voice already shaken up. Wonwoo’s breath caresses the helix of your ear, making goosebumps surge all over your skin. “Missed y-your bed too.”

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“Is that so?” he hums, chest vibrating where it presses against your back. “What else, munchkin?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Missed—” your voice gets caught up in your throat when he licks your helix, teeth pulling the lobe of your ear. The soft drag of his lips all over that place is making your job difficult. “M-missed all of you, hmmm.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo hums again, pleased with your answer, and leans so close to you your body gets half pinned to the bed. This way his bigger frame completely engulfs your smaller one, the difference between your sizes getting even more overwhelming now that he’s bulked up.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And you’re not the only one affected by it, because as soon as Wonwoo realizes how he almost swallows you up in this position, he downright moans right by your ear.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So fucking small,” he tells you appreciatevely, voice one octave lower as his fingers presses on your inner thigh harder. “Missed touching you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s a shift in Wonwoo, his leg rising up between yours and stopping centimeters away from the heat of your cunt, and you can’t hold back the shiver, wants Wonwoo to press down there. When you attempt to slide Wonwoo’s hand up and off of you so then you could turn around, you’re met with a growl instead, Wonwoo bodily pinning you to the bed.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, and it makes you feel like you’re a prey just ready to be caught by the big, bad wolf. You whine softly at that thought, hand coming to grab at Wonwoo’s wrist reflexively.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” is your answer, like that would explain everything. Wonwoo chuckles softly, embarrassment burning on your cheeks.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“When we called and I saw your face,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I wanted to fuck you so bad.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Suddenly, you can’t remember how to breathe, Wonwoo’s mouth on your neck, planting a soft kiss just under your ear. He nuzzles into the same spot, kisses lower and your heart shakes loud enough you think the neighbors might hear, hyperaware of every inch of your bodies touching.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I know I couldn’t, so I did it all from behind,” Wonwoo admits, sending your mind into a little haze. Of course he has been jerking off to the thought of you, but hearing him say it out loud has your panties getting soaked. “Sticking my dick in…”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo hasn’t stopped nuzzling you, in some kind of daze as he inhales your scent. There’s a hand on your hip now, holding you down, liquid heat pooling in your belly, spreading outward.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“…and fucking you mercilessly…” he continues, voice getting deeper and rougher with each word, his breath labored. “…and watching you cum endlessly… I thought I would be fine just imagining it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Won—” you start, breathless, the sound of your own voice sounding so airy leaving you embarrassed. But then finally, finally he presses his thigh into your core, your hips immediately going down to rut hard against the muscle.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fucking drenched,” Wonwoo snarls lowly when he feels the wetness of your soaked panties dirtying the fabric of his sweatpants.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The sound makes you writhe on the bed, fists balling in the mattress.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“But seeing you, so small…” the trace of Wonwoo’s hand in your skin is light, almost like a gentle whisper as it makes a burning path up, up, up until it stops by your neck, fingers closing softly around your throat. “Makes me want to rail you, carve the shape of my big cock inside your walls.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s teeth sink into the skin just at the base of your neck. It’s hardly a bite, you know he could leave worse, but then Wonwoo laps at it afterwards, tender, surrenders you into moving your hips obscenely on his thigh. The way he says, knows his cock is big has heat licking your insides, and if it were anyone else saying the same thing you would be cringed, but there’s just something special about Jeon Wonwoo doing this that makes him look like the hottest man alive.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re addicting,” Wonwoo admits with a growl, the feeling of his touch turning possessive as he helps you ride his thigh better by a hand on your waist. “Once I get a taste I can’t stop myself from wanting more. Wanna have my way with you until you’re all mine.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Need seeps through your bones, body trembling as you try to scatter the air it has been knocked out of your lungs when Wonwoo fits his cock in the curve of your ass.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-you’re hard,” you comment, as if it’s not obvious, but it has been so long since the last time you felt his bulge pressing against you that it makes you desperate. “You’re so hard.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Who’s fault do you think it is?” Wonwoo questions, groaning when you sway your hips from side to side on his cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Can we…” you trail off, hiding your face in the pillow. “Y-you know?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Nope, you gotta be more specific,” he says with a teasing smile, and you smack him in the arm. Wonwoo laughs before his voice gets serious. “Say it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

This switch of him turning on and off between a sweet boyfriend to the man who doms you never fails to give you a whiplash.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Can we— Can w-we fuck?” you ask shyly, wanting the ground to swallow you whole. You have no idea why you are being this shy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hmm, it depends,” Wonwoo hums like he’s considering the options. You turn to look at him, mortified, but he only laughs at your indignation. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You blush furiously at the question, face turning to look away as you mumble a yes, but then Wonwoo’s grabbing at your jaw and yanking your head back in place until you’re staring right in the deepness of his eyes, the intensity of them stunting you into complete silence.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he orders, leaving no room for arguments, and you nod your head quickly at that. “Out loud.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-yes,” you hurry to obey, watching satisfaction curl all over his face. “‘M always a good girl.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I don’t think so, munchkin,” Wonwoo grins, wicked and teasing, and you brace yourself for whatever is going to happen this night. “Sometimes you’re so desperate and impatient you can’t even wait for me before fucking yourself with those plastic toys of yours.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” and you’re unable to look away even when shame burns all over your body. “H-how did you—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“How did I know?” your sentence morphs into a moan when Wonwoo presses his thigh so hard against you cunt it has your body jumping a little. “You think I wouldn’t feel how you’re more loose when I fucked you? You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo is mercilessly dragging your hips up and down his leg, your whines sounding high and sweet in your own ears.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re oblivious even to yourself,” he tells you, tone rough as he ruts against your ass. Your heart lurches in your chest, Wonwoo’s words like a hot coal in the pit of your belly, erupting into flames. You want to squeeze your eyes shut, cunt pulsing with arousal. “Even today, the way you were staring at me…”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But then, Wonwoo’s touch is gone. His hands leave your hips, thigh frees you from the pressure, and the warmth seems so far now. You turn, complaint already at the tip of your tongue, but Wonwoo’s faster, rougher as he manhandles you on your back and hovers over your body, caging you in with his arms.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You looked like a prey who has just been caught into the wolf’s den,” he smiles at you, wicked and cruel as he grabs your jaw and pushes your head back. “Like you wanted me to break you in until it feels like you’re in heaven.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s a breath against your bare neck, his groan hitting your skin when he bites it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Or eat you up until there’s nothing left in you that doesn’t belong to me,” you’re definitely not expecting the moan that escapes Wonwoo’s mouth, so affected and deep it’s got all the hairs in your nape standing up, every fiber of your body telling you to submit. “Fuck, and it turns me on so much.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You make a sound out of neediness, hands reaching for Wonwoo. He goes easily, body pressing into yours as he crashes your lips together. Wonwoo kisses you like he wants to conquer you, licking into the seam of your mouth and teeth scraping at your bottom lip just so he could soothe the pain later with his tongue. Your head spins with the intensity of it, it’s messy and there’s too much spit and teeth, but that only makes it even more addicting.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But Wonwoo doesn’t kiss you enough today. He almost never does when he’s feeling like that — possessive, mean, wicked even, when he needs you to know your damn place —, wants to ebb the pleasure away when you’re starting to get hotter until it’s replaced by pure desperation and you can’t do anything else other than beg for him to give in to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

So that’s what you do, staring up at his eyes trained on you as if you’re a prey.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please,” you start, voice caught into a moan when Wonwoo’s fingers sink into your jaw and his mouth falls ajar, like the sound of you saying this particular word gives a physical stroke to his cock. “P-please, fuck me. Wanna— Wanna belong t-to you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And that’s enough. That’s enough, that’s enough, Wonwoo wants, you want, and he’ll give that to you since he has always been a weak man for your begging. There’s a fraction of seconds that he thinks he might pass out with all the blood rushing from his head to his other head, cock throbbing in his sweatpants.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Don’t know how so much eagerness fits into this little body of yours,” Wonwoo murmurs against your mouth, his hand squeezing your face. You find yourself parting your mouth open, whining, pliant and overwhelmed as Wonwoo slips his tongue in again, kissing you filthy. The scent of his familiar cologne is so sharp, surrounding you and leaving your mind dazed until all you can think is Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo. When he pulls back this time, Wonwoo pushes his thumb into your mouth, eyes half-lidded as he watches you swirl your tongue around it, sucking it further into your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan around it, watching Wonwoo’s every reaction, the way his breath hitches, shoulders tensing. There’s a shift on the bed, Wonwoo moving up and up and up and you can’t breathe because now the bulge pressing against the fabric of his clothes is standing proudly right in front of your face, Wonwoo almost straddling your chest. You let the realization that he’s going to fuck your mouth sink deep within your core, and try not to show how deeply affected you are by the idea.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You fail, of course, hips lifting off of the bed and falling down again, biting around the finger inside of your mouth that keeps you from taking a better look in the place you are dying to see.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“That desperate to suck me off, baby?” Wonwoo asks, and you flush, hate how you love the humiliated burn, how it makes you wetter. You’re too embarrassed to throw something back at Wonwoo, gaze dropping to his erect cock the best you can. He pushes your head back up, making you look at him instead. “Do you wanna see it?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I do,” you reply, a little too fast for your own good, and it only serves for Wonwoo to laugh at your neediness. You debate if you’re as red as you think you are, the burn in your cheeks spreading all the way down to your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Wonwoo’s tone is almost condescending, still playful, like he doesn’t think you can even handle the sight of his cock, and you like how it makes your cunt twitch and ache. It’s as if you enjoy the belittlement, enjoy the way Wonwoo wants you to prove yourself.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’m,” you start, swallowing, “I’m ready.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s smile is a touch dark, nearly a sneer, but his hand leaves your mouth to hook a thumb in the waistband of his pants. You nearly drool. He pulls on the fabric until his cock is free, slapping against your left cheek and smearing precum on your face. Your head spins, realising that even this part of Wonwoo’s body seemed to have grown bigger. Maybe it’s your imagination, haven’t actually seen it in real life for the past three months, but the thickness is intimidating.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The best intimidating possible.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your heart thuds in your chest, unable to look away from his cock. There’s spit collecting on your tongue, embarrassment fighting against your desire to please. Leaning forward, you suckle the tip into your mouth, making a pleased sound when you taste the salty tang of precum.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo leans back a bit, wanting to assess your face better, and the taut lines of his body contorts in an even hotter way with the new position. You moan again, staring at the piercing in Wonwoo’s nipple and the head of the inked snake looking at it, and sucks on the head, tongue pushing along the underside. Your body throbs with your own heated desire.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You wrap a hand around the base, gut twisting hotly when you realise you can’t even get your fingers all the way around — no matter how many times you notice this, they all make you feel equally needy. And you’re not the only one affected by it, Wonwoo’s hips kicking forward and cock thrusting inside of your mouth, the growl he lets out going straight to your core.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck,” he says, breath audible enough to echo inside the room. “I will ruin you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The confession has your body arching for a few seconds, sucking hard on the tip of Wonwoo’s cock until he’s moaning at the feeling. He takes a fistful of your hair, but you push against the hold so you could take more of it into your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Quit it,” Wonwoo demands, your displeased whine making his hold grow firmer. “Do as you’re told or you might not get my cock at all tonight.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He pulls you off, your pants loud and labored.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did I make myself clear?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yes, sir,” you add just for the teasing — but mostly because you want Wonwoo to punish you for making him lose his beloved control —, feeling pleased as you watch the clear change of expressions going on in Wonwoo’s face. His eyes darken impossibly more, eyebrows frowning and then there’s a hand on your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your mouth goes dry as soon as his fingers close around your throat, body writhing and mind going into submission mode.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Filthy little slut,” Wonwoo snarls, face suddenly close, and then he’s spitting into your open mouth and you feel like you will come very soon. You flinch, eyes shutting on reflex, and then moan. “Want me to punish you, don’t you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You don’t say anything, can’t say anything, but you hope the look in your eyes answers his question. It probably does, because there’s a tiny little smirk playing on the edge of Wonwoo’s lips before he kisses you, softer than you could ever imagine he would be in this moment.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you,” he breathes, the sudden confession making a different kind of burn itch your throat. You know very well that when Wonwoo tells you that I’m the middle of sex then it’s because this will be a passionate fucking. One of those that he keeps your body so close you think you might become one with him, one of those he kisses you so gently one moment only to treat you roughly in the other, one of those he wants to make you fall apart, crumble and cry and even so, it will be full of love and care and sweetness. “I love you so much.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t wait for your answer. Doesn’t need to, he knows your heart belongs to him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Say ah for me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo instructs and you obey, mouth hanging open, tongue out. Wonwoo slaps his cock against it, precum dirtying your tongue as the slap slap slap of his cock hitting your mouth fills the heavy air of the room. He even traces the tip over your upper lip, smearing precum along your cheek when he slaps your face with it before placing his cock right back on your waiting tongue. “Put this mouth to better use.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You do, eager to do as you’re told after Wonwoo’s confession, blood singing from his praise and his disparagement alike. You sink down onto it as far as you can take it, nearly gagging when it hits the back of your throat. Wonwoo drowns out a broken “fuck” above you, stroking your cheek and moving further in the bed to lessen the awkward twist of your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth,” Wonwoo breathes, voice strained as you suck him off, head bobbing. He brushes your hair back, little groans and growls escaping him every time his cock hits the back of your throat, you swallowing around it, or when you speed up, fucking your mouth on Wonwoo’s length. “Such a pretty little cocksucker, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You blush, heart hammering in your chest with the compliment, but he closes a fist in your hair and makes you stop all movements.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Gonna fuck your mouth,” Wonwoo starts, holding your wrist with his free hand and putting your fingers above his thigh. You know that it means if you want me to stop, tap twice, and it makes heat coil in your belly. “until you gag.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan a bit uncontrollably around his cock, legs kicking in the bed at the affirmation, and Wonwoo is staring at you with a look you can’t quite describe. It makes you ashamed of being so eager but at the same time proud of being his little cockslut.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo holds you in place, hips bucking into your mouth. He goes slow at first, wanting you to get used with the feeling because it has been a while since the last time you sucked him off. It is short lived, as soon as you look up at him and nod — the best you could with your movements being kind of restricted —, his thrusts turn sharp and fast, your jaw aching from how long you had Wonwoo’s fat cock in your mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You moan, one of your hands still working up and down along Wonwoo’s shaft as he fucks into you, tears beginning to prickle at the corners of your eyes. He falls a bit forward when you start gagging a little, throat convulsing around his thickness, and he sprawls his fingers in the wall for support.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck fuck fuck, shit,” Wonwoo breathes, voice gravelly, his grip in your hair getting tighter and tighter. Tingles spark down your spine, wetness pouring out of you and soaking your panties even more and you want so desperately to come, to be fucked, but you want to please him first.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s thrusts begin to turn erratic as he fucks your mouth, a growl erupting out of him on a particularly hard thrust, and then he’s pulling away. You look at him, mind in a haze, but still dumbfounded. His breath is labored and he looks like he’s having a hard time keeping together, hips thrusting into the air. It boosts your ego to see him this messed up because of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did so well for me, sweetheart,” Wonwoo tells you, voice strained from effort but still full of fondness, and you feel butterflies dancing in your stomach at the praise. It seems like he wants his orgasm to ebb away. At the look you’re giving him, he adds: “Wanna cum with you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You mewl at the thought, watching him position himself between your legs again and kissing you slowly. Wonwoo caresses your cheek with a gentle thumb, other hand tracing a feather-like path down your body. His fingers brush against your nipple, the whine you let out being swallowed by Wonwoo’s greedy mouth, and he sneaks his hand under your shirt just as his kisses fly to your neck.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And then Wonwoo’s sucking. Hard.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It caughts you off guard, hips lifting off of the bed and thigh pressing tightly against Wonwoo’s cock, his groan being muffled by your skin. He bites, suckles and kisses the particular spot underneath your jaw, so far up your neck you won’t be able to hide it, especially because it’s summer. And you feel warm all over, how he always remembers exactly your pleasure point, the place that has your head spinning with pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your hands fly to his hair, cunt throbbing with need when he tongues at the purple hickey, and it’s throbbing, pulsating with how hard he sucked. It leaves you breathless, not having time to recover when Wonwoo pulls your shirt up until he can get one nipple into his mouth.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwon, fuck,” you whimper, body oversensitive with all that has been going on, and Wonwoo growls at the nickname, hand coming to pinch your other nipple like he’s telling you how much this affects him. “Please—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo bites at it, tongue coming to soothe the pain later, and you’re sure the grip you have on his hair must be painful, but he says nothing; only looks more intent on making you moan. Wonwoo busies himself with sucking hickeys all over the place as one of his hands continues to descend down your body, thumb pressing in a spot by your hips that has your back arching and a desperate whine being pulled out of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Down and down, his fingers then slips inside your penties, brushing across your clit so lightly that it has your whole body rocking with shivers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

But then, Wonwoo’s body goes completely still. You feel him tensing under your palms, heat already flooding your face when you know he feels it, feels the way you’re already stretched open for him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You—” he starts but stops himself, pushing a finger inside for great measure. Wonwoo growls when he meets almost no resistance, face lifting from where it rests on your chest to look at you. “When?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The intensity of his voice leaves your mouth dry.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“E-earlier, in the— in the s-shower,” you confess, voice quiet, and you can’t look away, Wonwoo’s eyes pinning you to your spot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hah,” he states simply, a sound of pleasant surprise, and adds another finger inside. Wonwoo pushes them to the hilt, until his knuckles brush your pelvis. You moan, head thrown back at the sudden, but welcomed intrusion. “Acting all nervous around me but this is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He gyrates his hand, pushing hard and without mercy, right before he adds another finger, this time more slowly. It burns a little, his fingers way bigger than yours, but you love the slight pain.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did you come into my house knowing I would fuck you?” Wonwoo asks, knows the answers but does it anyway. He moves his hand a little, waiting for your to be more comfortable with the sensation of his fingers, but as soon as your frown turns upside down, Wonwoo has no restrains whatsoever, fucking into you fast and sharp. “Fingered yourself knowing that I would split you open on my big cock?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You can’t even think straight, hips rising off of the bed, but Wonwoo holds your waist with his free hand and pins them down hard. Your upper body lifts with this, back arching and legs kicking everywhere as you can’t stop the loud moans slipping through your lips, doesn’t even care about the neighbors as your nails sink into Wonwoo’s back to the point it might leave tiny crescent moons all over it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Did you come back then?” Wonwoo continues, pace unforgiving even when tears well up into your eyes. He trusts you to use your safeword if needed as much as you trust him to use his. “Did you?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You struggle to answer, voice being surrendered to moans and whines and whimpers and it’s hard to focus when he’s hitting your sweet spot with the tip of his fingers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah! Ah, hmmm, f-fuck, please Won— Wonwon,” you try, can’t even understand how you still manage to get red when you realise Wonwoo is looking at you with so much desire. The point you both most like about your relationship is that Wonwoo is the dom, but he knows you have him in the palm of your tiny hands. “I, ah, d-din’t. Di— Didn’t want to, fuck, please— c-come without you—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pulls his fingers out at that, your cunt clenching around nothing as he goes lighting fast to take both of your clothes off, grab your waist and flip you on your stomach just as he reaches for the nightstand to grab what you know very well it’s a bottle of lube. He pulls your hips up until you’re face down, ass up on the bed, the hurry in all of this only sending desperation all over your body, and the sound of the cap being opened has butterflies in your stomach.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah? Fuck,” Wonwoo sounds a mess, fingers hurrying to close a fist on his cock and jerk it off furiously to spread the lube better, the wet head nudging against your rim. “Fuck, shit, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Do it,” you beg. “Please.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And who is he to deny what you want?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo pushes inside you slowly despite his hunger, knows he’s big and there’s an alarming size difference between the both of you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your hands clench into fists and it feels like you’re being impaled onto Wonwoo’s cock, going deeper than any cock you ever taken before. Tears cling to your lashes as a small jolt of pain runs up your spine, the lube easing Wonwoo’s way in. Overall you’re proud of yourself, haven taken him before, more times than you can count, and you accommodate his cock like a pro.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your chest heaves, no amount of air feels like enough as Wonwoo’s cock all but punches everything out of you. You’re biting at the pillow by the time the last of it pushes into you, a haze surrounding your mind because it feels so good.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s groan transforms into a moan once he’s buried all the way into you, hips flush against your ass and spreading you open so wide and so deep, you would think you might break if you didn’t know any better. You gasp, back arching downward as you take your time to adjust to the large intrusion.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo kisses your shoulder tenderly, waiting for you to grow used to the feeling. He can be rough when it comes to bed, but he always is mindful of you no matter how impatient and desperate he is. There’s this soft feeling going on inside you, mixing with your pleasure and it only serves to make you more needy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo doesn’t move for a while, hot breath falling against your neck as he stands behind you. You feel surrounded — his scent everywhere, the pulse of the hickeys he carved on your skin, the press of his long fingers on your waist —, your submission for Wonwoo’s eyes only.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You nod at him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

A lick at your neck is all the warning you get before Wonwoo pulls out so very slowly, cock dragging against your walls and rim. It feels like forever, you whining at the sensation, and then you’re being slammed back into.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah!” you gasp, eyes blurry as you struggle for air. You moan as Wonwoo drags himself back out again, and thrusts right back in and groans at the feeling. “Y-yes—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So good,” Wonwoo growls, close to inhumane as he continues with that pace. “So fucking good.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Eventually, Wonwoo doesn’t seem to be able to go slow anymore, thrusts turning sharper and harder, his pace unrelenting. You find yourself almost screaming through it, so overwhelmed by the size of him — a good overwhelmed, the best overwhelmed —, but the way you feel so full and the exponential pleasure leaves you numb to any other thought.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo, your mind seems to chant, fucked open mercilessly by your boyfriend.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Taking cock like a pro, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Wonwoo says, stops for a second, adjusts his hips, and then slams back right into your sweet spot, like he knows where it is by heart. Your body lurches forward, bed slamming against the wall. Hands reaching to hold onto something, you scramble against the sheats until one of them fists it and the other holds the pillow for dear life. “You’re gonna wake the whole hall, screaming like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You have enough of a decency to feel ashamed about it, but it’s not like neither of you actually care. If anything, Wonwoo fucks you harder, hips jamming inside you until your throat hurts from all the noises you’re making.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please, p-please— I wanna— I h-have to— Fuck, ah!” you’re not even sure about what you’re begging for, Wonwoo pulling your hips to meet his thrusts half way. You love this, feeling like a ragdoll, being thrown around and only able to take what he gives to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Good little girl,” Wonwoo croons, his voice rough. Your skin glistens with sweat, the shimmering red light reflecting on it. “Looking so beautiful taking my cock.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re not sure what compels you after he says that but you reach down, hand smoothing down your abdomen because you feel like Wonwoo is spearing you open. But you go completely tense, squeezing Wonwoo so hard he stutters with a moan, because under your palm there is the outline of his cock protruding against your lower belly. The feeling makes you so overwhelmed that you can’t hold it in, whithe pleasure flooding you as you end up coming, eyes rolling to the back of your head and you’re crying all the way through it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re coming?” Wonwoo deadpans, sounding surprised and angry at the same time. “Holy shit, you’re coming untouched and without my permission? What were you think—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Wonwoo’s complaint immediately dies down when you bring a trembling hand to grab his wrist and put his fingers in the cause of your orgasm. There’s a beat of silence, the both of you completely still, and then Wonwoo is growling the most animalistic growl you ever heard him do, the sheer intensity of it rocking all the way to your bones. He presses his hips so tightly into yours it has you sobbing.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck,” it’s all he says, tone two octaves lower and sounding dangerous, doesn’t even have it in him to punish you. “Fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It’s like the caged beast he keeps so carefully locked deep within himself started to surface. Wonwoo pushes your head down on the mattress, the other hand still on your belly. He pulls out until the tip and then slams back inside, as hard as he can, and you downright scream at the feeling, the oversensitiviness adding up to your pleasure.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s another few seconds of silence, and then Wonwoo is fucking you brutally. His moans echo through the room, so completely desperate that it has you wailing, sobbing, crying desperate pleas for more.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Look at that,” Wonwoo says, hand pressing harder against the bulge in your stomach. “Pushed my big cock into you until your insides were forced to make room for it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He grabs your arm and yanks you up, your back pressing against his chest and an arm circling around your waist. The other comes up to squeeze your left breast as you practically sit on his thighs. You moan at the feeling of his pierced nipple dragging against your skin every time he fucks up into you, your body only held in place because of the firm grip Wonwoo has on you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Sobbing, you feel like you’re losing yourself in the sensations, Wonwoo’s cock pounding into your cunt and his voice by your ear and the burn of his hips hitting your ass — by now it must be all red, the marks probably going to linger for some time. You can’t hold yourself together anymore, mouth open and drooling, tears clinging to your lashes, staccato moans falling from your lips that break on every thrust. You’re limp against Wonwoo, can’t even fuck back, letting him have his way with you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Drooling all over yourself for my cock,” Wonwoo says, fucks in deep against your sweet spot and mouths at the side of your neck. “Because of me, right? Tell me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-you— yours, yours, please,” your head falls back on his shoulder, hand pressing tightly in the shape of his cock in your stomach, and at this point you don’t even know what you’re doing anymore.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’ve broken you in, fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And he did, really. He has broken you in, has you crying on his cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You belong to who?” Wonwoo pressed his hips flush on your ass, grinds hard enough for your body to be sent forward. A short few seconds so you can take a breath — or at least try to. “Hm? Who’s fucking you this good?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-Wonwoo, Wonwon, you, please,” you cry out as he starts to fuck you mercilessly again, the brutal pace punching moans out of you. “Ah, ah, ah, p-please, haaah, I’m y-yours— yours, b-belong to, hmmm, to you only, please!”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah,” Wonwoo echoes, thrusts turning erratic and groans morphing into moans. “Mine.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I can’t — I’m g-gonna—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Come for me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And it’s enough for you. Your muscles tense, toes curling as hot, white pleasure surges through your body and floods you until you fall limp on the bed, hips only up because Wonwoo is holding them tightly. You clench around his cock involuntarily, his groan muffled by your hair and he’s coming, Wonwoo’s cock twitching inside you as thick spurts of come fill you to the brim. They seem to be endless, his spunk filling you up until it’s dripping out and down your thighs.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You don’t remember much of what happens later. Your mind spins and then you fall into a most needed slumber.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You wake up a bit disoriented, having no idea how much has passed since you fell asleep, but you realise you’re all cleaned up and dressed, head resting in Wonwoo’s — thankfully, for the sake of your precious pussy — clothed chest as he uses his cellphone. He smells clean too, hair still a little bit wet, and you smile thinking that the shower you both took before going to bed was useless.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re up?” comes Wonwoo’s question when he feels your lips moving against him, placing his phone somewhere on the bed and circling his arms around you. You move your head, looking up at him with fondness.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hey, baby,” you breathe out, reaching to peck him in the lips once. He smiles, that kind of smile that leaves you breathless with love.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hey, my love,” Wonwoo laughs when you blush at the pet name. It’s so sweet and endearing, you always feel warm whenever he says it. “I see you still get all red when I call you that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up,” you swat at his arm, Wonwoo’s following laugh sounding like the best music you ever heard. “How much did I sleep?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Not much,” he presses you tighter against him. “I think one hour? Something like that.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Thanks for taking care of me,” you say, legs tangling with his and the smile never leaving your lips.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Of course, my love. Always will take care of you,” Wonwoo nuzzles your hair and inhales. “Got kind of surprised that I managed to fuck you into unconsciousness.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wonwoo,” you mortify with a laugh, hitting his chest, but he only giggles at you. He giggles. Your heart might explode soon.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“What? Can’t I be happy that I pleasured my tiny girlfriend the way she deserves to?” Wonwoo says, and it sounds like a joke, but when you look up at him again to make a retort, the reverence in his eyes surrenders you speechless.⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He stares at you with so much admiration and love, like you’re the most beautiful thing ever.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you,” you say instead, cheeks hurting from the way you’re smiling, and Wonwoo seems to be caught off guard because he’s blushing. Wonwoo’s blushing. He’s so cute you want to die.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up and go back to sleep,” he coughs, pushing your head against his chest and you laugh at this shyness. “I love you too.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Yes. The warmness of his hands, the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the love in his eyes, the sweetness of his words — you missed everything about Jeon Wonwoo.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

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stargazer-balladeer · 4 years

Text

Adopting a Child [Genshin Impact]

Characters Included: Albedo, La Signora & Scaramouche

Notes: All of the character’s I have least experienced with all in one post :D alright— let’s see how this’ll go- also,, hope they aren’t too OOC ;;w;; (and yes,, i made this whole hc bc of la signora- got a problem with it? HAHAHA) hope ya’ll like this!

Additional Information: You aren’t their kid. Just a random kid they found in the street who decided to follow them until they adopted you as their own :D

Reader’s Gender: Neutral

Warning: me cursing like usual 😃

Dedicated to: @meepmonster7 :D

Albedo

For some reason, I can see him knowing how to handle a child, since he takes care of Klee as well- so when it comes to taking care of you, he’s practically a natural at it.

At first, he’ll be a bit turned off by you since he sees you as a bit of a nuisance. But over time, you’ll grow on him. He’ll come to love you as his own-

As an artist man himself, He teaches you how to draw. From plant, to animal, to people. He teaches you the techniques he used for drawing. You bet that he loves every drawing you gave to him, even if its a stickman, this man’ll treasure and cherish it with his life-

This man loves spoiling you with things, it got to the point where you didn’t know how to use all of the things he’s given to you. Sometimes, Jean and Sucrose has come in and told him to stop spoiling you too much-

Albedo’s a scientist right? Head scientist, alchemist, whatever. So you bet your ass that he’ll be teaching you some alchemy at such a young age- bro,, u can be the next einstein with how complicated things he’s teaching you-

Whenever he has free time, he loves spending it with you. He would share his findings with you, even though you can’t understand what he’s saying, he would still tell you. Sometimes, he would put on a show for you while telling stories using his vision and alchemy- he would always smile at your awestruck face as he tells the tale.

Playdates with Klee is a must- he would sometimes leave you under the Knights of Favonius’ care and you’ll be found playing with Klee. At first, he’s worried since he knew what Klee’s like. But if Jean decided its okay, then its okay.

If ever you were attack or gone missing, Albedo would be furious and immediately go to you or search for you. The ones who stole you away or attack you no longer exist btw 👀

Overall, even though you suddenly came to his life and became his unexpected child, he would love you as his own.

La Signora

La Signora is a fucking natural at taking care of a child, change my mind 🤧🙃. Like if a child is crying and can’t be tame, just drag her over and that child would stop crying- maybe its bc she has a motherly aura around her (besides the fact that she almost kills Venti- 😃)

I think she willingly adopts you, not bc she’s obligated. She would guess that it’s because of her motherly instinct inside her when she finds you following her- she takes you in without any hesitation-

“But.. La Signora-“

“Even if you beg in front of me, my answer will not change. I will take this child as my own and none of you can stop me-“

La Signora would take you everywhere with her, but if its a mission that requires some.. blood, that’s the time where she wouldn’t bring you. She would drop you in the Northland Bank for a while before coming back to pick you up. She would let you explore the area since she knows that children likes to venture around new areas-

As much as La Signora is ruthless to the people around her, she would undoubtedly be soft towards you. Like she’ll be like medusa one second then the next she’ll be gushing at you-

She is the kind of woman that shields you from the world, who would protect your innocence than destroy it. So, in order to protect it, she wouldn’t tell you about her profession. All she would say is, “Mother is doing some secret business work.”

La Signora would spoil you rotten, whether from gifts or affections. If you want something, it would be given to you. She’s really rich, ya know? 👀 she loves carrying you, especially during times where she can cover your eyes- 👀

Even though she spoils you, doesn’t mean she wouldn’t be hard on you. If you do something she doesn’t like, she would punish you. She would also train you with your desired weapon, stating that it would help to protect yourself when she can’t-

I feel like she would let you meet her fellow Fatui Harbingers, but its not like their close with one another- 👀 but Childe is one Harbinger that you often play with. Even though he hates La Signora, he wouldn’t deny that he enjoy playing with you- so you can be found either with La Signora or with Childe-

If you ever get attack or was taken away, you can bet that La Signora is livid- furious- and she’ll hunt down whoever attacked you or decided to kidnap you. And she would NOT show mercy.

Overall, she would treat you as her own and would give you the world if she could- she would protect you from the darkness of the world. Whatever it takes..

Scaramouche

Ha! Scaramouche with a child? Everyone is doubtful at best. He was already a whiny bitch. It’s not a wise decision to give him a kid- he can hardly care for his subordinate, what about a fucking kid-?!

You can tell Scaramouche despised your presence just from his face alone. Even as days and months go by, he would still despise you. But if you manage to rub off on him by staying with him for a year or two, he would start accepting your presence… slowly. He would still make that disgusted face whenever you’re around, but you can tell he’s soften around you and acknowledges your presence-

Scaramouche would be hard towards you, even if you’re a kid, he would still treat you just like he treats everyone. But to those people who knew him well (like Childe, Signora and other Harbingers-), they could tell Scaramouche is going easy with you-

Scaramouche isn’t that affectionate so he wouldn’t spoil you with affections or gifts, but he tries. He’ll leave some trinkets he found while he’s out and about in front of you before leaving promptly- (i swear he’s a tsun-tsun :3-) this cycle would continue even as years go by.

Scaramouche would train you harshly and isn’t afraid to force open your eyes to the harshness of reality- just bc ur a kid doesn’t mean ur an exception to the rules of reality. (“You’ve got no choice but to accept it as it is.” Scaramouche said, almost sadly while staring as someone was killed in front of you two-).

He would let you play with Childe (Childe is good with kids, okay? He has siblings for Teyvat’s sake-). He might as well give you to Childe with how often you are seem with the hydro-user instead of the 6th Harbinger- but you would always go back to Scaramouche.

Everyone would always ask you how you handle the harshness of Scaramouche (it’s no secret that he’s the least liked Harbinger-), but your response is always the same- “because I love him! He’s my older brother!” (Whilst Scaramouche is blushing behind the wall-).

Scaramouche is protective of you, believe it or not. So if you are with him while he’s outside, he’ll keep you close with him and doesn’t allow you to wander off. If you do wander off, he would panic as he searches for you. He would most definitely scream at you before hugging you- (he’s relieved that you’re unharm- 👀)

If you’re being attacked or taken away, everyone in the Fatui would be so scared of him as he goes out to search for you. If you’re kidnapped, he would let out a search party. And they aren’t allowed to be back unless you are with them (unless they want to get some beating from him-). He would immediately kill whoever attacked you or kidnapped you, even if you’re there to witness it, he would still kill them.

Scaramouche, overall, isn’t perfect. Afterall, he still despised you even after years go by- but he’s grown attached to you. Just,, be patient with him and continue to love him.

[x] Main Page || [x] Mondstadt Page || [x] Fatui Harbingers Page

#i’m in love with how i made albedo’s and la signora’s banner 💞💞#also hope that scaramouche’s hc is alright-#i feel like its random lmao-#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #la signora #la signora x reader #albedo #albedo x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche x reader #genshin impact la signora #genshin impact la signora x reader #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact albedo x reader #self req❣️

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silenceofthecookies · 3 years

Note

Congrats on 600! If I'm still on time, apple with William, Mereoleona and Nozel? Thanks!!! ❤😁

Of course! Apple is:

Flirting headcanons

William

When he isn't trying, William is very good at flirting. He has this mysterious air around him which draws a lot of people in, and his usual way with words in combination with his confidence have a lot of people swooning without him even having to try. He is able to flatter the king into silence, so if he'd give someone a genuine compliment and smiled at them, they'd be putty in his hands. The poor man is, however, oblivious to his ability of his.

When he actually falls in love... William becomes a mess. He will start to second-guess his every move, his every word, even their every move and word. Mostly because he feels he isn't good enough. Once he falls in love, he'll put this person on a pedestal in his head. They are the most amazing and perfect person in his eyes. Compared to that, he's just a man with an ugly scar on his face. How could you ever love him?

So him trying to flirt won't come easy. However, it is adorable. William is a hopeless romantic. He will give you flowers, usually a single rose, because in his opinion a whole bouquet would be over the top outside of a relationship.

Around his crush, he will be a nervous mess on the inside but composed as usual on the outside. Only people who know him really well (like Yami and Julius) would be able to notice. Once he starts opening up though, the nerves will show. Not only to his crush, but also to the people around them.

It's a good thing you can't see him blush, because it’s really easy to fluster him. The slightest show of affection, be it physical or by use of words, will throw him off his game. No matter how smooth he tries to be, one word back and he won't know what to say.

Mereoleona

Mereoleona is a straightforward and confident woman. This is no different when she's flirting. It won't take long before she voices her interest openly, however she only does so once asked or in case you're being too dense to notice.

Her flirting, much like her affection, or shown in unconventional ways. She'll take you to the strong mana zone at the volcano, pushing you to make your way through it, only to enjoy a nice bath in the hot spring with you afterwards. She'll push you real hard in training, just to have an excuse to treat you to dinner afterwards. Simple, traditional dates are not her thing.

Nor is anything else traditional and romantic. Mereoleona doesn't give a damn about the system, any kind of system, she follows her own rules. If she feels the need to say something she'll do it, no matter the setting. You look hot while training? She'll tell you. A random ‘I like you’ on the way back from a mission? Not uncommon. ‘You've got a spider in your hair’ while the mood is perfectly set? Yeah, that happens.

Mereoleona's main way of flirting is by teasing, which is the best way to get an amusing reaction out of her crush. It can be flattery, it can be insults, whatever gets a reaction out of her crush. She is not the most tactful person when it comes to her words though, so the insult, even if meant teasing, can come across a bit harsh.

Most of all, she tries to spend as much time with her crush as possible, without it being a hindrance to either her or her crush. Love should be fun, not a pain in the ass.

Nozel

Nozel is a more traditional guy when it comes to flirting. More than flirting, I guess it would be courting. He won't do anything unless he's serious and he makes sure to take little steps as to not make you uncomfortable.

Gifts are a common way for Nozel to flirt. He has enough money to spend on his crush, and because his work as a captain doesn't give him a lot of free time, it's the perfect solution. He is a typical rich guy though, and he has no idea that giving expensive gifts can make people uncomfortable, which can lead to some awkward moments.

Compliments coming from Nozel are rare, but when it comes to his crush, he's a little more generous with them. If anything, he'll try to find subtle ways to compliment his crush, preferably out of earshot from certain people who'd bother him about it (like Yami or Jack).

He prefers to keep his cards close to his chest though. Unless he's sure you like him back, he will not confess nor tell you he's interested in you in any way. Maybe it's pride, maybe it's insecurity, maybe it's a little bit of both.

It's very easy to get a reaction out of Nozel, though he likes to think it's not. React positively to his flirting, flirt a little back with him. Depending on where he is and how exactly you react, he might become embarrassed and blush, avoid eye contact, walk away or even a combination of those. He actually has a lot of tells in his body language that show his interest in you, though if pointed out he brushes it off, saying they're imagining it and that he's not acting any different from usual.

#william vangeance x reader #mereoleona x reader #nozel x reader #william vangeance imagine #mereoleona imagine #nozel imagine #black clover x reader #black clover imagine #william vangeance #mereoleona vermillion #nozel silva #black clover #cookie writes #headcanons #600 followers event #requested #anon #scheduled post

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red-doll-face · 4 years

Note

domestic oni w/ his s/o and some bebes please ;/// u know

Of course!!! I have seen the light on oni and I have realized he’s the big boi we needed. This ones for u bun ! I’ve never written for oni before so I just went off sorry 😞

Warnings: slight nsfw, slight breeding kink on onis part and reader is afab or at least has obtained baby making bits also children , mentions of blood and gore as well as nasty baby shit 🤢

WC: 1380

Kazan ‘The Oni’ Yamaoka x afab Reader

A Star in the Night

Life always balances itself out. For every bad day there was a good one. Considering his last day on Earth wasn’t necessarily what one could call good, there had to be some good here in the sprawling fog to naturally even things out, right? So, he searches for another chance. This must be Kazan’s second chance because if it were not, he would be well and truly dead. Floating in the abyss, gone forever. Here, however, he’s even met a descendent and her story makes him feel as if he’s done some good. Passed on his vengeful anger that pushed her to stand up for herself and so he decides that here will be his own slice of peace despite the souls he sends to the sky everyday.

As much as he wishes he could have left that part of his past behind. The killing and the beating. Brutality. It has become a part of him. It’s what makes him useful to the new god that rules here so he does it. If he hopes to one day achieve something here he has to please it. The new god has even taken to labelling him the Oni. The oni. A term he once despised. To torment him more, his skin is now tinged blue and his nails have sharpened and grown out black. He sure looks like one now. Blends into him like colors or ink into water. Makes the endless loop of killing a little easier.

Whatever he’s been working towards, he thinks he finally found it. In these repeated processes Kazan see’s someone unique. One of a kind among all the different screaming visages of the survivors. That’s the moment when he makes a more important decision. The choice to take you as a prize. Something of his own.

Bargaining with the Entity quickly places itself as his new priority. What would he have to do to take you away? To start again with you? The entity asks him to sacrifice 100 survivors. No moris, no escapes. Kazan is determined to get this. He is not in this place for no reason. This is his destiny. He almost lost the streak a few times. Against the hardy survivors. Against you too. But it’s not for nothing because the moment he succeeds, the entity allows him to take you. Upon seeing him, you are apprehensive. Why you? What for? All he will say is that you don’t have to be hunted anymore. Not by anyone. You can live a comfortable life, as comfortable as it can be. You’re shocked. Unsure of why this offer is being extended to you. But what would it be like to be in the fog but never have to go to a trial. You ask if you can come back at some point. If you’re free to leave when you want. Kazan doubts you’ll want to leave. He nods anyway.

And so you sit in his house. A house that used to be only Spirits. The temple however isn’t suitable and thus you live in the house. Settling in is rough. You’re not sure what to do. Then Kazan brings some old traditions. Meditating, raking stones in the garden into little lines. Lighting candles and lanterns at the shrine. It’s fairly easy to put you back into a lulling routine. One that doesn't involve blood and hooks. You start to realize that the Oni or Yamaoka Kazan, he had told you, is interested in more than just feeling bad and sheltering you from the Entity’s wrath. He acts as if you are his spouse. He comes from trials and comes to find you. Greets you. Merely wants to spend time with you. He tells you stories from a time of what must have been Japan when their were jitos, shoguns, and, samurai. He was a samurai. You’re uncertain on why you can communicate with him. Shouldn’t he be speaking a different language.

From a cupboard, he pulls little black sticks and stones used for grinding them into powder. Then into ink. Calligraphy brushes. Old brittle paper. He watches you draw little pictures and he keeps all of them, praising your creativity. How he has chosen someone as talented as you.

“Chosen? For what?” You question. Innocent enough of a question.

“To stand beside me.” That clears up nothing. You feel as if something has gone over your head.

His grand daughter, Rin treats you with kindness. She treats you as if you’re part of her family. With a familiarity you’d forgotten was real. It clicks then what Kazan is trying to do. You are to be a warped version of whatever marriage customs were held in his day. A spouse. He’s taken you as a spouse.

Once you confront him about it, he acts as if you should have always known. That it was obvious what his intentions were and that he didn't feel the need to be explicit. You retaliate with the acknowledgement that you’re not from his time. It’s your first real argument. What did he expect from you.

You don’t know when you start to actually like him. He’s not the best conversationalist unless he’s talking about fighting or battlefield strategy but he tries to entertain you. Listens intently to what you have to say. Ultimately, Kazan comes off as more genuine than your own fellow survivors. Some of them were nice. Niceness can only go so long here though. You’ll run out at some point. He brings up the last time you talked about why you were in this derelict house and he apologizes. Kazan apologizes so formally that he practically looks like he’s begging forgiveness. For not thinking of you as an individual and instead as a vessel. Finally, putting two and two together, you think he wants children. You stare quietly at him. A pause lingers and then you ask him if you wanted to bear his children, he wouldn’t respect you any less, would he? He tells you that he would crush the souls of 1000 more men should it mean you would bear his line. He would lay their bodies at your feet if it made you happy. Dramatic but fitting for someone like him.

Kazan tries for it as soon as he can. It should be impossible. The entity cannot create life, only steal it. But you allow him to try. Over and over again. Until it takes. Whenever he finishes, he takes to stuffing his seed back inside of you. Careful of his talon-like nails that seem to be made for ripping flesh apart.

After trying so many times, you feel something change. The entity buzzes about you, you can feel it. No one can see it, certainly not you but it’s excited. When Kazan returns from his stand-in profession, he’s visibly happy. Thrilled.

“You are with child.” He almost yells it, he’s so happy. He picks you up and hikes you into his arms.

It’s the birthing that makes you nervous. You're less daunted by the carrying. Kazan dotes on you, more than he had already. Treats you like a glass figurine, passed down generations. You cannot be broken or stressed. You feel like a figurine, alright. The man simply sits you down and admires you. As you swell, he looks at your belly fondly and then to your face. He pets your hair and soothes you.

The birth is painful. So, so, so painful. More than any mori, hook, or cage. Your body rips itself apart for his child. Your child. The baby is covered in blood and birthing fluid and Kazan is smitten. He’s silent, in awe of your creation. The baby is so small, so tiny in his hulking hands.

The child grows and grows. Laughs and gurgles. Kazan cares for it, a wonderful father. He cleans the blood and gore from himself before seeing your child and you watch on as he teaches them to write. Read ancient japanese. Rin is just as caught up with your baby. She’s like an older sister, the best kind. Normal childhood is unattainable but you lament at forcing the child in this world of night. Your child will never see the sun. But you figure that's because your baby is the sun.

Thanks for requesting and I hope you liked it! 💖💖

#dbd #dbd x reader #dead by daylight #oni x reader #kazan yamaoka #the oni dbd #red writes #kazan yamaoka x reader

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nctsworld · 4 years

Text

just let me adore you

✩ jaehyun x reader (ft. mark) | fluff | campfire au | 2.3k → summary: in which the sparks between you and jaehyun burn brighter than the fire in front of you. → warnings: fluff, flirting, swearing, kissing, wingman!mark whoo let’s get it → rating: teen+

→ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Laughter atop of wooden logs and wisps of smoke from the recently made fire fly towards the darkening sky on the beach. On the topic of fires, you and your friends are now reminiscing about when Haechan almost set his house on fire on more than one occasion.

Your face is stuffed in Mark’s shoulder, unable to control your fit of laughter. As you pull away to breathe, you see a familiar group of men walking closer. Your eyes widen in reaction to one in particular.

“You didn’t tell me Jaehyun was coming,” you spew behind the gritted teeth of your smile, leaning into Mark while having your gaze still locked on the group approaching.

“Whoops?” Mark shrugs nonchalantly. You punch the imp smile off of your best friend’s face. He mumbles an ow and rubs the tender spot.

“Could’ve at least given me a heads up, you little shit.”

“Maybe tonight you two will finally—hey, guys!”

His words are cut off as the group finally arrives at their destination, greeting everyone perched on the logs.

You may as well have flung yourself into the flames when Jaehyun flashes you a smile and maybe it’s all in your head, but you swear his eyes are fixated on only you.

Jaehyun and you were in an... odd spot.

You may have gone to the same university, but the campus was huge, and you only ever really saw each other during large mutual gatherings, like tonight, so it was hard to get to know each other when you were often encircled with your particular clique.

You two were mutuals on Facebook, but there wasn’t any concrete reason for you two to message each other out of the blue. However, you’d be lying if you said you never opened up the chat, stared at the blank conversation, and spent more time than you’d admit in thinking of a message to muster up.

Yet, during only the handful of times you’ve been around Jaehyun, you liked being around him. He was sweet, like how he gave you pointers during the get-together at the bowling alley, and Mark has only said good things about him, giving him the seal of a best friend's approval.

Sure, it was a little awkward at times. Small talk was the norm, but neither of you could deny that there was something itching under the surface between you two. Maybe some nurture and care was all that was needed to break the chemistry free.

Or maybe all that was needed was tonight.

Because the logs near you are already occupied, Jaehyun and the latecomers sit across from you. Jaehyun’s in your direct line of sight with only the fire coming between the two of you.

The night falls as the blaze burns stronger and higher, becoming the only illuminating presence on the beach. Although conversations are all about, everyone’s attention is on it. Flames dance, entangling with each other in freedom. Orange and yellow hues reflect off of every face surrounding the warmth. It’s uncommon to see unconstrained flares like this often, so the rarity adds to the addictive pull of them.

Everyone’s attention is on the fire, save for two people.

You prefer listening to others speak and don’t really say much unless elicited, so you spend a lot of your time appreciating the beauty of the things surrounding you—at the rolling ocean waves, up at the stars, or across the wavy haze at the figure before you.

And when you aren’t looking at Jaehyun, you’re unaware of how he’s appreciating the beauty in front of him too.

Back and forth, neither of you expect to lock eyes, but when it inevitably does, neither of you break away. On the contrary, Jaehyun offers a side smile, which showcases his dimple, and a modest wave.

Returning his gesture with a giggle and a weak wave back, you then pretend to listen to neighbouring dialogue for a moment.

Five seconds later, you can’t help it and steal a glimpse of him once more.

You’re surprised to find him beaming back.

Even though Mark’s preoccupied with telling the recent story of him winning another watermelon eating contest, he sees you smiling in his peripheral vision. His mouth still runs off, but he turns his head and sees that Jaehyun's the reason behind your smile. Although the eye flirting makes him mentally gag, he fully supports your pursuit if it makes you happy.

Catching on, your best friend stands up to “stretch his legs” and moves closer to the ones he’s talking to, continuing the anecdote while standing. Not even a minute passes, and it doesn’t take much for Jaehyun to make a break for the empty spot next to you.

Jaehyun doesn’t sit as close to you like Mark did, respecting your space, but is close enough to have you nervously plucking the fabric of your jeans.

It starts off with the normal small talk, asking how classes have been and what you’ve been up to lately. Immediately after, silence takes over.

Now that he’s in close proximity, looking at him feels like a sin. Nevertheless, you still commit the crime, stealing little glances at him throughout the bustling chatter and crisp crackling.

Feeling overwhelmed by the silence, you grasp onto more small talk, which unfortunately soon reduces to you just rambling. Throughout it all, Jaehyun doesn’t say anything. All he does is nod and listens intently, leaning closer to you with his forearms on his thighs to capture everything that you’re saying.

When you take a breather, he finally speaks up.

“Although I love to hear you talk,” his voice is low and gentle, sending a small shiver down your spine. “And by all means, you can keep talking, but don’t feel pressured to fill the silence.”

He pauses for a beat, and you peer over to view him lowering his head.

He’s rubbing one thumb over his other, and the friction only makes his palms sweat more. Tingles reach Jaehyun’s ears, and he ponders if you notice it under the dim glow.

“You don’t have to say anything at all; I always like just being around you, even if we aren’t talking.”

The cool air blows, calming you along with his words. A shy grin spreads across your face. Feeling more at ease, you shift towards him, closing the empty space between you on the log and letting your leg lean onto his. Jaehyun’s focus trails from your leg to your face, and he dives deeper into your perfection with another of his famous, sweet dimpled smiles.

Despite Jaehyun’s reassurance, you two slowly start to converse with less tension. Through the night, you get to know each other bit by bit, unravelling each other’s life stories, yet simultaneously writing a new chapter, intertwining the lines of your lives together.

Additionally, you begin to melt for Jaehyun’s jokes. This is a first, to hear him joking around like this, but you soon find yourself laughing into his shoulder like you did with Mark not long ago.

And Jaehyun adores how you click with his humour, but he adores your laugh even more.

Someone remembers that they brought snacks in their bag, and fast enough, marshmallows are being passed around. Jaehyun, along with a few others, hunt along the beach and come back with stray sticks for the sweet treats.

As you two roast marshmallows, you’re sitting in comfortable silence, exchanging glances every so often. Suddenly, he lays a hand on yours, pulling it back along with the stick.

“Careful,” he warns softly into your ear. “You don’t want a burnt marshmallow.”

Your breathing hitches, thinking about the only other time Jaehyun touched you.

It was during Johnny’s birthday dinner at a buffet restaurant. You were in the midst of devouring your food when your hair got in the way (out of all the days you forgot a hair tie, it had to be today). Failed attempts transpired at moving it; you blew, you shook your head, you rubbed the loose strands against your upper arm sleeve...

“May I?”

His delicate inquiry made you freeze. Jaehyun already finished his food and offered his clean hands to fix your dilemma. You were so dedicated to finishing your meal that you forgot that he was right next to you, probably thinking you were a hot mess.

Regardless, you nodded. You gulped as he daintily tucked the strands of your hair behind your ears. His touch was so brief, so simple. He barely ghosted over your skin, and the moment fleeted as fast as the way your hair ran through his fingertips.

So if his touch was so simple, why was your heart bursting at the seams?

Your heart thumps against your chest just the same now as it did then. Maybe even more, since you turn to face him and he’s so close, you feel his warm breath against your face. Your gaze slowly wanders to his lips. Subconsciously, he licks them, and you catch him staring at yours too. Your mind’s drawing blanks, while your body takes control. Both of you draw your bodies nearer and nearer until someone hollers—

“Dude, your marshmallow’s burnt!”

Both of you stop in your tracks and whip your heads towards the fire, realizing it’s Jaehyun’s marshmallow that the person is referring to. Hastily, he pulls it away, blows the flames off, and stares at the charred piece with a pout.

“Well, I guess you like burnt marshmallows though, huh?”

Jaehyun turns to you again, watching you chew your marshmallow with a smug expression. Shaking his head, he runs his tongue along his bottom teeth.

“Hey, for the record, I saved your marshmallow from being burnt.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, sure,” you hum, still chewing, then getting up. “I’ll go get us some more marshmallows. Maybe extra for you, in case you burn more.”

He clutches his chest in jest at your quip and watches the way you saunter over to the bag, his eyes full of hearts, yet regret courses his veins over how the moment was ruined.

It’s past 1 AM, and the combination of the summer air and ocean waves pack a bite that urges you to go home. You’re both standing near the fire, waving at others who are leaving, when you begin to say you your good-bye.

“I should also get going.” Your hands are in your pockets, feet kicking at the sand.

“Is Mark your ride home?” You nod in reply and open your mouth, ready to tell him how nice the night went with him.

“Can I…” he abruptly cuts in before inhaling sharply. “I was wondering if you’d let me drive you home?”

Your jaw drops at the suggestion, causing his expression to change instantly. “Unless you’d prefer Mark to, I totally understand.”

Obviously, you accept without hesitance, and run off to Mark to inform him of the change of plans. After hugging him and saying your good-byes, Mark whispers, “Don’t stay out too late.” Then, he gives you a wink before you run to your driver for the night, walking side by side with him back to his car.

Because it’s late and you’re both a little tired, the ride home is quiet, albeit for Jaehyun’s music playing in the background and when you begin to speak up to give directions on how to get to your place. Rolling up in front of your home, he turns the ignition off, but leaves the music still on.

“I had a great time with you tonight,” he says with a hand still on the steering wheel.

Tucking your hair behind your ear, you nod, “Me too.”

Anticipation lingers in the air for a while prior to Jaehyun cutting it with a question you’ve been dying to hear.

“Are you free next weekend?”

You press your lips together, trying to hide a smile back.

“Only if you are.”

He laughs with a shake of his head, amused at your playfulness. He can definitely get used to this.

“I’ll message you when I get home and we can work out the details soon.”

“Sounds good,” you sway a bit in your seat whilst holding in your excitement. “Well, good night, Jaehyun.”

Your fingers are on the door handle, but you aren’t quite curling them around it.

“Good night,” he says your name in a hush and you look back at him. The two of you match eye contact and get lost in the gleam of each other’s starry eyes.

You’re unsure who made the first move, but it doesn’t matter because his kiss scorches you, melting you into putty. As you think you’re about to fall apart between blissful sighs, Jaehyun catches you with each caress, holding you together by your cheeks and the nape of your neck.

Breaking away for air, you lay your forehead against his, panting, “Wow.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly. “I’ve been waiting to do that since I burned my marshmallow.”

No coherent thoughts are running through your mind, except your yearning for the man in front of you. All you want is him and his touch on your skin again, so you agree with his sentiment by diving in again without warning.

It takes much strength for you to finally depart from each other’s embrace for the night, but when you do, Jaehyun plants a kiss on the back of your hand and wishes you sweet dreams.

Exhausted and in disbelief over tonight’s events, you quickly change out of your clothes and tuck yourself into bed. Unfortunately, sleep is near impossible because your mind replays everything over and over.

Suddenly, your phone lights up, notifying you of a new message.

Little did you know you’d stay up messaging the man on the other end until the sun rose.

Next weekend really couldn’t come fast enough.

#jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #nct 127 fanfic #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct scenarios #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun x reader #nctcreations #myfanfics #mywritings

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deadbiwrites · 4 years

Note

a video of supergirl grabbing lena luthor's ass starts circulating and it's very embarrassing for sc but extremely funny to their friends

(I am SO sorry. Where do these hide? Why do I never see them? How long has this been here?!

Anyways, have some cute nonsense!)

The day starts like any other, honestly.

Like, sure, Kara’s never thrilled when she wakes up 20 minutes late and has to use superspeed to get through her morning routine and into the office on time, but it happens regularly enough that she’s just sort of used to it by now. Like, the sky is blue, the grass is green, she manages time poorly. Whatever.

But she does get to work on time, with just enough to spare that she can make a brief detour to Nia’s desk for the coffee her protege has already bought for her, thank her profusely (with perhaps minor promising of firstborn children), and slip into the morning meeting just as Snapper, James, and Lena start handing out assignments for the day.

“Well, well, good of you to join us, Ponytail. Let me guess, a family emergency kept you out all night again?”

‘I mean, that Abraxian wasn’t my family, technically, but someone’s family, so…’ “Something like that. Sorry.”

Lena catches her eye and quirks a brow in question, but Kara just shrugs easily and sips her coffee, pulling a silly face at her friend when Snapper’s attention moves away from her. When her eyes uncross, she can tell Lena is fighting not to laugh, eyes sparking with mirth as she bites her lip. Kara takes another sip of coffee, feeling a bit smug that she can get Lena to smile without even having to say anything to her. That’s real talent, right there.

Especially since Lena has to stand up at the front with James, who has been by turns cold, dejected, and surly toward her since their breakup (a big, real, final one) a few weeks prior. Lena had said that the whole thing was a mistake, that she should’ve never gone for it in the first place because she’d been right the first time- they’d had some chemistry, after all, but it certainly wasn’t compatible long-term.

Which… Kara can certainly relate. Like, a lot.

Especially about the whole… James being kind of wounded about it part. That part had really sucked- when he’d done it with Kara, who he’d gone on like, a date with, it’d resulted in him deciding to become a vigilante. Rao only knows what he’ll do when it’s someone he dated on and off for over a year...

“Ponytail!”

Kara jumps, realizing too late that her wandering attention hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Yes, sir?”

Snapper rolls his eyes. “Great, now that you’ve stopped orbiting Saturn, you wanna go get that article started?”

Kara’s eyes widen slightly in a panic as she realizes that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Uh…” Behind his back, Lena catches her eye and nods subtly. Thank Rao. “Yes. I super do.”

Lena snorts, James sighs deeply, and the meeting is adjourned.

“So what exactly am I supposed to be doing today?” Kara asks Lena as they stroll out of the conference room together.

“Well unfortunately for you, you have to interview a big-time CEO. You have a meeting scheduled with her in three hours.”

“You?” Kara asks hopefully.

“You’re very sweet,” Lena chuckles. “No, Elena Watts. She’s a real estate developer, and she runs a nonprofit organization for homeless youth. It’s one of the articles we’re doing for next month’s spread. Contrary to popular belief, Cat and I weren’t the only women with high-profile jobs in this city. ”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool! Have you met her?”

“Not personally, no, but I have donated to her charity- it’s a very good cause, especially the outreach they do with queer youth.”

Kara elbows Lena gently. “You’re such a softie.”

“Mmm, maybe. But if you tell anyone, you’re fired.”

Kara clutches a hand to her chest, feigning horror. “Why Miss Luthor, what a blatant abuse of power!”

Lena shrugs. “I’m a Luthor, darling, I have to keep up appearances somehow.”

“Ouch,” Kara laughs. “See you at lunch?”

“Only if lunch includes a milkshake- I have a teleconference with both boards today. Unless you feel like joining me?”

“Wow, well as fun as that sounds, I’m gonna go do literally anything else.” Her comms crackle to life, alerting her of a hostage situation downtown, and Kara sighs. So much for a work day. “Alright, well, I’m, um, gonna go… see what I can find on Elena Watts. Maybe over another cup of coffee at Noonan’s.” She widens her eyes a bit, trying her best to convey that she’s going to be on Super-duty for a little while.

Thankfully, Lena picks up on it and grins. “You just want sticky buns.”

“Lena, I always want sticky buns. They’re like, my second favorite thing to eat.”

“Oh? What’s the first?” Lena asks, voice just a bit lower than usual.

Kara opens her mouth and closes it, flushing slightly as she averts her gaze and adjusts the laptop bag on her shoulder. Stuff like that has been happening more and more, and she’s not 100% sure what to do about it. Because on the one hand, it makes her stomach do flips and tie up in knots and makes her brain do this… staticky thing where nothing filters in or out, just a pleasant buzz of how funny and smart Lena is and how much Kara likes hanging out with her and being flirted with (because that’s definitely what’s been happening, even if neither of them is really ready to address it) and just generally looking at Lena.... who is currently biting her lip and grinning up at Kara, and that buzz makes her kinda dumb, which is just really unhelpful. But on the other hand, it’s also kinda awesome and Kara really enjoys it, and-

“Kara?”

She spaced out again. Crap.

“Um. What time are you free for lunch?”

Lena sighs, seeming slightly disappointed that Kara isn’t flirting back at the moment (and thank Rao Lena can’t read minds), but she smiles back easily enough as they step off of the elevator. “I should be done by two.”

Feeling emboldened, Kara turns so she’s walking backwards in front of Lena and grins. “It’s a date,” she says with a grin, ducking forward to press a quick “friendly” kiss high on Lena’s cheek. She whirls and jogs out the double doors, leaving Lena smiling exasperatedly after her.

It is genuinely baffling to Kara that people still commit crimes in National City. It’s not even an ego thing, really, since Kara tries to keep herself humble (even when she manages to wrap up a hostage situation within twenty seconds of arriving on-scene without injuring any of the criminals or damaging the building too badly). Like, yeah, she gets that there’s a certain element of crazies who just sorta gravitate to places with a local hero, the big-bads who have their own suits and geek-toys and abilities. Them, Kara gets. Kinda sorta. But the regular ones, who are armed with like, pistols? Or knives? Just regular man made stuff without even the benefit of magic or kryptonite or something?

Why?

She’s sure that if she asked, Lena would have some sort of statistical thing about large cities and poverty and all sorts of other factors that would end up making Kara feel like a jerk for being uncharitable to the criminal element of her city, but at the moment she’s mostly too annoyed by the fact that she has to spend her weekdays chasing them around instead of chasing stories.

Once all the hostages are freed and the cops secure the scene, Kara departs, flying into the alley behind Noonan’s and changing into her regular clothes before she heads inside to do a bit of research before her meeting with Elena Watts in a few hours (just because she’d used it as a cover doesn’t mean it was a bad idea…). She finds her favorite little two-person booth tucked into a quiet corner, plugs in her laptop, and gets to work, asking the waitress to please keep both the coffee and the sticky buns coming.

She gets a surprising amount done by the time she needs to leave for the interview, having a good foundation for what she wants to write and who Elena Watts is.

Ms. Watts turns out to be a pretty nice lady around Eliza’s age, if a bit busy and distracted by the steady flow of people in and out of her office. She answers all Kara’s questions with aplomb, happy to elaborate on most every point and eager to draw attention to the rising issue of homelessness among children and teens in the US.

“When I was young, my dad lost his job at the auto plant. It was supposed to be a temporary layoff, but the factory never reopened. We ended up losing the house, and we lived so far from our extended family that staying with them wasn’t much of an option. We lived in our SUV for six months, sleeping at shelters every now and again, if we could find one that allowed families to stay together. We showered at the local YMCA. Five people and a dog, living and sleeping in an old station wagon- even now, it sounds ridiculous. Eventually, we got back on our feet, but I never forgot that. It was just six months, but it was- and remains- the scariest, most uncertain time in my entire life, and it shaped me in a lot of ways I didn’t expect. And there are kids and families who do that for years. I just want to help them the way I wish that someone had been able to help us.”

At the end of the interview, Kara thanks her profusely for her time and for sharing her story before hurrying off to CatCo to type up a draft for Snapper (“What’s wrong with you, Ponytail, why is everything you bring me sappy and sentimental?”), which she finishes an outline of just in time to send it off before running to Big Belly and L-Corp for lunch with Lena.

She greets the newest in a series of secretaries (Anna? Amy? Ava? Lena’s really missing Jess, these days, but from what she’s told Kara, Jess is kicking butt in her new role as VP of Operations and will probably take over for the COO when he retires in a few years), and the girl waves her in distractedly.

And that’s when Kara’s day goes from normal to not, because inside the office are two masked men holding a stone-faced Lena at gunpoint on her balcony and demanding… something, probably. Kara’s a bit distracted by the loaded gun aimed at Lena’s head.

“Hey!” she yells, attracting both their attention. They whirl on her and Lena’s eyes widen in alarm, and Kara suddenly realizes three things- 1) she’s in her Kara Danvers clothes, not the supersuit, 2) she can’t speed into the suit now that they’re both looking at her, and 3) she has no plan.

Crap.

“Who the hell are you?!” one of them demands.

Kara… doesn’t have a good or snappy answer for that, and instead does the only thing she can think of- she throws the large milkshakes she’s carrying at them as hard as she can.

Which, in retrospect, is too hard, apparently because while yes, it is both funny and gratifying to see two grown men get absolutely leveled by a tasty dairy treat to the face, the one closest to Lena manages to elbow her in such a way that she falls backwards over the rail with an instinctual scream that makes Kara’s heart fly into her throat. She whips off her glasses, and by the time she’s out the window and speeding toward Lena’s flailing form, the suit is materialized. She gets under Lena, catching her carefully and dropping a bit further before slowing down (because she’s been made aware that when she doesn’t, the people she’s saving may as well be hitting the pavement), finally coasting to a stop about 20 feet from the ground.

Lena’s face is screwed up in a forced sort of focus, her hands clutching tightly at Kara’s shoulders and cape as she holds her breath.

“Are you okay?” Kara asks quietly.

Lena swallows thickly and nods, eyes still firmly closed. “I’m alright. Thank you- I’ll admit, I wasn’t quite sure how to get out of that one.”

“What was that? What did they want?”

Lena cracks an eye open. “Oh. you know, just my quarterly assassination attempt. I think my mother was starting to miss me, so she wanted to reach out.”

Kara snorts. “That really shouldn’t be funny.”

“Maybe not, but here we are.” Lena shifts a bit in Kara’s arms, cheeks a bit flushed from the adrenaline rush, and clears her throat. “Not to be rude, Supergirl, but do you think that perhaps we could continue this conversation… on the ground?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sorry. I forgot we were, uh, flying.”

Lena chuckles as they ascend slowly back up to her office. “You forgot you were flying?”

Kara shrugs with an easy smile. “I guess you have that effect on me.”

Lena huffs a laugh against Kara’s neck, eyes squeezed shut again. They alight on the balcony, finding the two men still unconscious, covered in Kara and Lena’s lunch. Lena sighs as Kara sets her down, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What a mess.”

“Yeah, sorry, I sorta… panicked.”

“I was so looking forward to a milkshake too…” Lena laments playfully.

“Well, then I have good news and bad news,” Kara says. She reaches out and gently wipes a bit of her own chocolate shake from Lena’s cheek with the pad of her thumb, tucking it into her mouth on instinct to get a taste of it. “The good news is, you do, in fact, have some shake on you!”

“Whats the bad news?”

“Also that you have some shake on you.” Kara laughs, gathering the two men in her arms and hefting them a bit so they’re easier to carry. “I’ll get you another one. Be right back.”

She drops the men at the police station with a brief explanation before flying back into the office. Lena hands over her discarded glasses with a wry grin.

“I figured you’d need these before the police arrive.” She’s putting on a brave front, but she’s clearly still more than a bit rattled, if her too-bright eyes and thundering heartbeat are anything to go by. Kara steps closer and opens her arms in invitation, and Lena doesn’t hesitate to step into them. “Thank you,” Lena says fervently, tucking her face into Kara’s shoulder and wrapping her arms tight around Kara’s waist.

“Always,” Kara promises, daring to press a reassuring kiss to Lena’s temple (and getting a bit of Lena’s strawberry shake for her troubles) before wrapping her up even tighter in her arms. “Are you actually okay?”

“I mean, my fear of heights has been reaffirmed,” Lena jokes, “but aside from that, I’m not hurt.”

“Good. I don’t like, love people pointing guns at you. Just so you know.”

“I’m not a fan either, for the record,” Lena drawls, burrowing even closer. “Even though I know you’ll save me, it still puts a damper on my day.”

Kara huffs a laugh. “Same.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, until Lena’s calmed down enough to stop shaking and calls her assistant (Audra, apparently) in, telling her what’d happened and that the police would be arriving shortly to take her and Kara’s statements, and please advise the security team to let them up discreetly. After the cops arrive, it’s a blur of questions, and Kara has to concentrate on telling the story of how she’d panicked and thrown the milkshakes at the men, and one of them had knocked Lena over the balcony (all true), and Kara had yelled for Supergirl, who had knocked the men out on her way to Lena (also technically mostly true. Technically. Mostly.). The police are sure to tell Kara that next time, she shouldn’t throw things at people with guns, and also to tell them both how lucky they are that Supergirl had shown up when she did.

“She’s always there when I need her,” Lena agrees, throwing a sly wink over the officer’s shoulder at Kara.

Kara just shakes her head and smiles. Even almost dying isn’t enough to make Lena not flirt with her. The woman is truly a marvel.

Kara’s comms crackle again, accompanied by Alex’s custom ringtone on her cell, and after assuring the police that she has no issue with giving another statement if they need her to later, hurries over to the DEO (making a quick stop in the back alley to change into her suit).

When Kara arrives, she’s told that J’onn and Alex are waiting for her in the Directors’ offices. She makes her way there, waving to the agents and scientists she knows. But it’s very weird, because every time one of them sees her, they start giggling before quickly hurrying off in the opposite direction. Like, literally everyone is whispering and pointing and giggling, and it’s giving Kara such visceral flashbacks to high school that it’s all she can do to not check her cape for a taped on sign that says ‘Kick me’ or ‘Freak’.

(Kids are mean.)

By the time Kara gets to her destination, she’s fully paranoid, sure that someone’s playing a prank on her, somehow, and that everyone but her is in on the joke. She opens the door with more force than intended and catches it just before the handle puts a hole in the wall, throwing Alex and J’onn a sheepish smile. She closes the door extra gently and leans against it heavily. J’onn and Alex just stare at her, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Busy day, Supergirl?” Alex asks, and after half a lifetime of spending time with her, Kara recognizes that she, too, is trying not to laugh.

Kara’s had enough. “Okay, do I have something on my face? Or on the suit? Is someone messing with me?”

J’onn’s brow furrows. “No.”

“Then what’s the deal? Why is the entire DEO like… laughing at me? Did someone accidentally vent the lab fumes out into the main hub again?”

“No.”

“Did someone see me crash into that billboard last week?”

J’onn’s frown deepens. “What?”

“No,” Alex answers.

“Then why is everyone laughing at me?!”

“I mean, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because of that,” Alex muses, nodding toward the big TV on the wall beside Kara.

She steps back to watch the news coverage of her dealing with the hostage situation this morning and frowns. “What, those guys? That was routine, what’s so funny about tha-”

“No, no, not that. That,” Alex clarifies, cranking up the volume.

“...reports are saying that the CEO of L-Corp, Lena Luthor, experienced an attempt on her life early this afternoon. Sources claim that she fell from a considerable height-”

“Hey, she was pushed,” Kara corrects.

“Shh!”

“...caught by Supergirl, who may have gotten a little… familiar with her.”

And there’s a video (clearly recorded on a cell phone but not the worst quality Kara’s ever seen) of Kara catching Lena and slowing to a stop above the sidewalk, of them talking quietly, of Kara’s hand definitely on Lena’s-

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Alex drawls, clicking the TV off with relish, a large, evil-big-sister grin spreading across her face. “Congratulations, Supergirl- the world just watched you grope Lena Luthor’s ass.”

“But I’m not- I wasn’t groping, I was catching! My hands weren’t… If it was groping, I’d be all up on her, and I wasn’t!”

“Camera begs to differ. It’s already trending on Twitter in National CIty.”

Kara puts her head in her hands and groans. “Why?! I was trying to save her!”

“You were definitely trying to save part of her,” Alex agrees. “Granted, it’s a very nice part...”

Kara’s head pops up, and she shoots Alex a look that’s between a pout and a glare. “You’re not helping.”

Alex feigns confusion. “Am I supposed to be helping?”

“Alright, enough,” J’onn cuts in before Kara can retort. “We just wanted you to be aware. I don’t think that this is going to be taken for anything more than it is- a humorous moment in the middle of a successful rescue. You shouldn’t worry about the press.”

And truth be told, Kara isn't worried about the press- she’s worried about the fact that she’s going to have to face Lena after this. Lena, who she knows for a fact has google alerts set for herself, Kara Danvers, and Supergirl, a gesture which is normally actually sweet and kind but is right now definitely gonna bite her in the-

“Okay! So, is that all?”

Alex blinks, looks over at J’onn, and shrugs. “I mean, yeah. Try not to make a habit of groping your crush when you’re in the suit.”

“I wasn’t groping her-”

Alex grins. “So you admit you have a crush? Interesting…”

“Alex!”

J’onn’s prediction is mostly right- no one seems to be taking the shots of her grabbi- saving Lena as anything other than a funny blip of a moment in their coverage of it.

He was wrong about the sheer scale. The clip had gone totally viral in a matter of hours, and seemingly every major network in the country has run the clip at least once as a bit of filler-fluff, and almost every major network anchor (including the ones at CatCo, the traitors) has made at least a passing joke about Supergirl being ‘Super-Handsy'.

Which means that Kara is very late getting back to Lena’s office with replacement food. But like, she’s been busy, okay? It’s not like she’s avoiding Lena, or something, because she’s embarrassed- which she isn’t, because she didn’t do anything bad or wrong and-

Anyways, it’s well past sunset by the time Kara gets to Lena’s office door again. She hesitates outside it for just a moment before shouldering the door open and knocking tentatively.

Lena’s attention jerks from whatever she’d been absorbed in to Kara, and a relieved smile blooms across her face. “Hey there.”

Kara finds herself equally relieved to not experience a repeat performance of earlier scary situations. “Hi,” Kara says, unable to resist smiling back. She raises the bags and cup carrier. “I bring grease and milkshakes. Again.”

“Oh thank god, I’m starving,” Lena says, rolling her chair away from her desk and rising into a deep and probably much-needed stretch. Kara very determinedly does not stare at the slight sliver of soft tummy that appears between her blouse and skirt at the motion. “I’ve been staring at this screen for several hours. And Sam called to yell at me- she says hello, by the way- she and Ruby are in town next weekend.”

“Good!” Kara crosses the room to the couch as Lena does, easily spreading out the veritable buffet of fast food she’d brought over the coffee table. “I mean, not good that she yelled at you, or that you’re still at work, Miss Luthor,” she says pointedly, receiving only an unapologetic shrug in response. “But good that, um-”

“I get it,” Lena chuckles, resting a hand lightly on Kara’s knee and boy, if that doesn’t make Kara’s brain go fuzzy and dumb again… “Thank you, for checking in.”

“Of course I was gonna check on you, Lena,” Kara huffs. “Plus, I know you probably didn’t get lunch, so…”

Lena hums around a mouthful of burger, chewing until she can politely speak again. “Well it’s delicious. Did you make it yourself?” she teases with a sly grin.

“Oh, yeah, totally. Slaved away over a hot stove for this- I just wrapped it in Big Belly wrappers so you wouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“Very clever.” Lena pops the lid off of her milkshake and drags a fry through it (an advanced culinary delicacy Kara had horrified her with initially but had eventually become a bit of a guilty pleasure). “Although I have to say, traditionally you’d have to buy me dinner before you grabbed my ass.”

Kara chokes on a pickle. “Oh no,” she groans, dropping the burger onto the wrapper on the table and dropping her very red face into her hands as Lena laughs beside her. She peers out from between her fingers. “I am so sorry, I was just worried about you hitting the pavement and like, catching you in the least jarring way and I wasn’t paying attention to where my hands were and I didn’t even notice until I got back to the DEO and-”

“Well I have so say, I feel a bit offended that you didn’t even realize you were copping a feel...” When the only response is another groan and a deep flush spreading from Kara’s neck to the tips of her ears, Lena relents. “Kara, Kara, it’s fine!” she laughs, pulling Kara’s hands away from her face and giving them a grounding squeeze. “Nia’s been sending me memes about it all day, which has improved my mood significantly. On the grand scale of fallout from assassination attempts, this one was at least funny.”

“I know that’s supposed to be comforting, but all it makes me wanna do is wrap you in bubble wrap forever,” Kara informs her.

“Pass on that. But seriously, don’t worry about it- I know it wasn’t on purpose- unfortunately for me, you’re too noble to do something like that,” Lena laments playfully.

And whether it’s the knowledge that Lena is not, in fact, upset, the overall weirdness that has been this day, or this delicious burger fueling it, Kara feels a bit emboldened. “Hey Lena…”

“Yes?”

“What if I wanted to grab your butt? Just, y’know, as a hypothetical. For future reference.”

Lena quirks a brow at her, fighting a smile as she contemplates this. “Hmm. Strictly hypothetically?”

Kara scoots a bit closer on the couch. “Sure.”

“Well, you’ve already bought me dinner…”

“And lunch, technically. Even if I gave it to the bad guys.”

“True. Plus you saved my life, so that gets you some points, probably.”

Kara pauses in her sly scooching. “Oh, hey, wait, no, that’s not-”

“Kidding, Kara. I know you’d never use that to your advantage. I, however, have determined that strong moral fibre and nobility do, in fact, earn you more points, which is my choice on the matter and you get absolutely no say in it.”

“Oh. Um, alright, I think.”

Lena stares off into the middle distance, tapping her forefinger thoughtfully against her chin. Finally she shrugs. “Yes, I think you’re fulfilled the prerequisites for a bit of grab-ass today.”

Kara snorts, Lena laughs, and soon enough Kara takes her up on the offer.

“Hey Kara, remember that time you grabbed Lena’s ass and it made international news?” Nia asks around a mouthful of mushu pork.

“You mean last week? Yes, I remember,” Kara drawls. Beside her/halfway sitting on her lap, Lena snorts.

“That was the best.”

Alex glares. “Um, excuse you, no. No it was not. I had to sift through so much thirsting over my sister on like, every social media platform. It was the worst day of my life.”

Brainy’s brow furrows. “Surely that cannot be correct, Alex. Statistically speaking-”

Alex holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Trauma can’t be measured, Brainy.”

Kelly chuckles and presses a consoling kiss to Alex’s cheek, and it makes the tough agent melt into a doe-eyed puddle of mush that Kara snorts. And she says they’re gross... Kara sneaks a glance at Lena from the corner of her eye, and she catches Lena looking at her. She leans close and jostles her gently as she drops her head onto Lena’ shoulder. “We’re never gonna live that down, are we?”

“Probably not.”

“We have the worst friends.” When this elicits nothing but a chuckle, Kara tips her head back to see Lena still looking at her, a soft smile playing at her mouth and shining in her eyes. And like, this whole thing they’re doing is new, with the kissing and the actual dates and the... everything else. But the thing where Kara catches Lena looking at her and she doesn’t look away? That freakin’ knocks her out, every single time. “Hey,” she manages.

Lena grins down at her. “Hi.”

So yeah. Maybe the initial circumstances weren’t ideal, and she doesn’t love the mockery that’s been heaped upon her by all of her friends and loved ones (including Winn, who’d sent a missive from the future that literally just said ‘LOL’). But the fact is, Kara muses as she surges up just enough to kiss the corner of Lena’s mouth, that she doesn’t regret a thing.

#supercorp #prompts!#asks open #ask response #supergirl fanfic #kara x lena #humor #idiots #international news about idiots #kara danvers #lena luthor #i'm also deeply sorry that this is so long on mobile #i swear there's a read more that's supposed to be there #but alas

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 4 years

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Words: 5,229 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is Part 7 of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Daryl continues to worry about Y/N and wonder about her past, but they continue to bond inside the safe walls of Alexandria.

Your name: submit What is this?

From that day forward, you and Daryl were almost inseparable. The growing closeness between you was obvious and spending your time together was like a subconscious habit you couldn’t break.

When he wasn’t around you, Daryl felt like something was just missing and it seemed you always ended up together, even if it was just to do nothing.

Not too long after your last bad run-in outside the walls, Deanna insisted on having a town get-together as a morale booster. There would be food and a bonfire and supposed comradery. You were lying on your couch when there was a knock on the front door earlier in the day. You winced from the continued soreness in your ribs as you climbed to your feet and when you rounded the corner into the hall you could see Aaron on the front stoop.

You immediately gave him a look when you pulled open the front door.

“Y/N,” he said with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

You nudged your head as a way to say “come in” and Aaron stepped inside. You walked back up the hallway and stood in the kitchen, waiting for him to follow. “I know that isn’t why you came by,” you said.

“It is too!” he argued. “Well… it’s at least one of the reasons…”

“Uh huh.”

“Tonight—”

“No,” you interrupted.

“But just—”

“Aaron, you know I hate this pretend bullshit…”

He sighed heavily. “It’s not pretend. It’s real. This place is real.”

“And so is what’s out there!” you argued back. “Daryl and I just almost died. That just happened! Am I supposed to forget about my busted ribs or this,” you asked, gesturing to the bruising on your neck, which thankfully was starting to fade at last.

Aaron’s face softened and turned apologetic. “No. Of course not. But if we stop trying, if all we do is think about what’s out there… what’s the point of living?”

Goddammit. He had a damn point. You sighed heavily and closed your eyes for a moment. You shook your head. “I hate you,” you said sarcastically.

He smiled. “Love you too. Starts at 7. I’ll wait for you to show up, and if you don’t, I’m going to come get you, okay?” He started to head toward the front door but turned around halfway. “Oh—and hey, maybe think about bringing Daryl with you?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “…what’s that mean?” you asked suspiciously.

“What? Nothing! Just—you two are kind of alike in some ways. You know he won’t go unless someone drags him,” Aaron said.

“Uh huh…”

Aaron only grinned back at you. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said. You heard him open the front door and returned his shouted goodbye.

“Fuck,” you said aloud. You needed a shower and something to wear that would hopefully cover up worst of the bruising on your neck… At least you could count on dim lighting conditions since it was a bonfire.

That evening, Daryl was sitting on the steps of the house hoping, waiting to see if you would step outside. Finally, he saw you coming out onto the porch, shutting the door behind you. You were wearing a long sleeve thermal, with the sleeves partially pushed up to accommodate your wrist brace and the still balmy evening air. You had a light scarf looped around your neck, and Daryl knew that was purposeful. He got up as you came down the stairs and strode toward you.

You saw the archer and couldn’t help but smile at him as he approached. He had that stride, leading more strongly with one shoulder and foot than the other.

“Hey.” There was something about his deep voice that instantly put you at ease and you paused in the middle of the street.

“Hey,” you returned. You noticed again that his hair was shiny and looked soft, clean. He’d obviously cleaned up. “You going to this thing?” you asked.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and shrugged. “I dunno. Was thinkin’ about it. You’re goin’?” he asked.

You nodded. “Gonna try. I guess,” you said with a laugh. “Aaron talked me into it…”

“Yeah, uhh—yeah, he came by here earlier, too.” Daryl rocked on his feet a little bit. He wished he was better with words because he really wanted to tell you that you looked beautiful, even just in your jeans and thermal, bruises and broken wrist and all. “Well, if you’re headin’ there I’ll walk with ya.”

You nodded and Daryl fell into stride beside you. As you approached the center of Alexandria, you could already hear loud laughter and conversation and there was a warm glow from lanterns and the bonfire. Kids were running around playing the kinds of games you did when the world was free—Ghost in the Graveyard and Hide and Seek. You shook your head as you took in the scene, your feet faltering a bit. “Surreal, isn’t it?” you said vaguely. Daryl couldn’t help glancing at your expression. Far from looking content or like you were enjoying the domestic scene, your brow was furrowed and there was a faraway look in your eyes.

“Mhm,” he acknowledged. “C’mon. Let’s get a drink at least.”

You followed him through the crowd, feeling somewhat more at ease, more okay with him beside you. Daryl handed you a cold beer and grabbed one for himself, nudging his head over toward the reservoir just outside the circle of firelight and bubble of conversation. As you left the refreshment area you snagged a bottle of whiskey too. You collapsed down onto a wooden bench with a sigh and stared toward the water. You took a long drink from your beer and drummed your fingernails against the glass. Daryl was standing nearby, his blue eyes narrowed as he stared out over the water.

“Hey,” you said, drawing his attention. “Come on and sit by me at least. Then they can’t accuse us of being totally anti-social.”

He let out a small snort in place of a laugh and rolled his eyes. His stomach fluttered a little as he complied and took the other seat next to you on the wooden loveseat, spinning his beer anxiously in his hands. The bench was small; your shoulders were almost touching.

“Look what else I got,” you said, reaching down and lifting up the bottle of whiskey. Instead of the reaction you expected, Daryl just gave you a calm but perceptive glance.

“Ya plannin’ on gettin’ drunk?” he asked sharply.

You stared down at the bottle in your hand and your eyes fell again on the brace on your wrist. “Maybe,” you said quietly, not even really sure you had said it aloud.

Daryl’s brow furrowed more deeply. “Why?” he drawled.

You shrugged. “Does there have to be a reason?”

He licked his lips and leaned back in his seat. “Usually is one, whether or not there needs to be.”

He was annoyingly observant. You’d known him a matter of weeks and he always seemed to see right through you. But you simply uncorked the bottle and took a pull. It burned your lips and left a warm trail all the way down into your stomach. You chased it with another sip of your beer and tried to distract yourself by just staring out at the water again, looking at the glowing orbs of porchlights in the distance reflecting there. Every so often you could feel Daryl’s eyes on you.

“What?” you said, finally turning to face him. You were only a few inches apart. You thought you saw his cheeks grow a bit pink for a moment, but in the dim light you couldn’t be sure.

“Nothin’,” he said, turning away and gazing out across the water the way you had been just a moment earlier.

You sat together in silence for quite a while and although it felt tense at first, both of you relaxed into it. You alternately sipped from your beer and took pulls off the whiskey, a dangerous pattern because you weren’t paying any attention to how much you were drinking and you were a lightweight even before alcohol was a rare commodity.

But the longer you sat, the more you felt like there was a bubble in your chest, growing bigger and bigger and waiting to burst. Finally, you couldn’t hold out in the strenuous anticipation any longer and spoke what was on your mind. “You ever wonder how this place is going to fall?”

Your words were quiet and definitely a bit slurred. Daryl’s eyes snapped over to yours which were already on his face, surprising him as they flickered back and forth between his, holding his gaze steadily. He gulped and nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted.

“Or when…” you added.

“Yeah…” he agreed again. “I do.”

You sighed and turned back to look at the water. “I think about it all the time,” you said softly, and Daryl thought he heard your voice break. You stood up abruptly and whipped your empty beer bottle into the water, watching the ripples expanding across the small pond. You wavered a little on your feet and Daryl jumped up, hands extended in case you needed to be steadied.

“I think ya better slow down on that booze,” he growled.

You simply gave him a defiant look and took another pull from the bottle. You held it out to him but he only stared you down.

“Nah. If you’re gonna be stupid, then I’m gonna be sober. And I’m gonna get ya some water,” he said, turning to leave. His momentum stopped when he felt your hand gentle on his arm. He looked back at you in shock and couldn’t help the kneejerk way his body stiffened. But it was only from surprise. A split second later his stomach flipped at the feeling of your hand there and he wished you would never take it off. But you had obviously perceived his tension and you withdrew it quickly.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, sinking back down onto the bench, wanting to kick yourself for grabbing onto him.

The archer was left puzzled and chewed his bottom lip as he considered you a moment. “I’ll be right back.”

You were alone on the bench, waiting for Daryl to return, your head more than a little hazy from the whiskey, when footsteps approached. You knew they weren’t Daryl’s. They didn’t have his cadence and his footsteps were almost silent, even when he wasn’t hunting or tracking. You turned to see Spencer and internally groaned.

“Isn’t right that you’re over here all alone,” he said, walking around and sitting in the seat that was Daryl’s without any invitation.

“I wasn’t,” you snapped, leaning away from him.

“Look pretty alone to me,” he said, downing what was left in his drink glass and actually taking the bottle of whiskey from you to refill it with a healthy share.

“Yeah, well, that seat—the one you’re in—it’s reserved. Already taken,” you said, snatching the bottle back.

He scoffed. “What? By that redneck? Seriously?”

You shot a sharp glare at Spencer, but knew the sting was likely diminished by the glazed look in your eyes on account of the booze. “You know his name. It’s Daryl Dixon. Not ‘that redneck’.”

“Whatever,” Spencer laughed. “Guy’s a nobody. Who cares?”

“I care. Now get the fuck out of his seat,” you growled.

Spencer only smiled back at you. “I think you’re just afraid that if you let me sit here, something might actually happen between us… Come on. You know there’s something here—as much as you fight it. Some spark.”

You stood up abruptly and stepped away from him, scoffing. “What the hell is wrong with you? I feel like I’ve been perfectly clear with you over and over again. Did you forget that I punched you out?” He seemed impervious to your refusal and only stood up too and stepped closer to you.

“Come on, Y/N. You know you want this,” he said, reaching a hand out and trailing his fingers down your arm.

You shrugged him off. “Don’t. touch me. I won’t tell you again.”

He soured somewhat immediately. “What is your problem? Is it seriously something to do with that hick you’re always hanging around? You have something going on with Daryl?” he said, mockingly. “Seriously? What a fucking joke. He’s a mess. Just some—dumb redneck. You deserve way better than him. You deserve someone with their shit together, someone who will string together more than two words at a time. Someone like me.”

You physically recoiled from him again. “You’re a fucking joke. Everything you’ve ever had in life has been handed to you and you’ve turned out to be a spineless, spoiled dick. You have no idea what’s out there and you wouldn’t last a day. You’d be lucky to ever be even a quarter of the man Daryl is.” Your jaw was set. “Now fuck off and go find someone else to bother,” you growled. “Try one of the other sheltered suburbanites. They’d probably fall for your bullshit.”

“I can’t believe this shit,” he muttered angrily, but you heaved a sigh of relief as he stalked off, hopeful that he would finally get the fucking hint for once and leave you alone for good. You turned back to stare at the water in front of you, gentle ripples still bouncing off the shore from when you’d tossed your bottle in. Your uninjured hand went to clasp around your wrist brace absently.

You didn’t know that Daryl was only a few feet away, returning with some water for you, and that he had been watching the entire interaction. And Spencer’s words had stung. Sure, Daryl knew Spencer was an idiot and he certainly had no high opinion of the moron but Spencer had also just verbalized some of Daryl’s own deepest insecurities about himself and even… about you and how you felt about him… and that had stung him deeply. But then came your words… and he felt complete disbelief, sure he had misheard. He felt paralyzed for a long moment as he puzzled over what you had said and how you had said it. But you had been forceful and purposeful. Daryl hadn’t imagined that.

He was so shocked that his boots were rooted in place. He stood there with that cup of water in his hand, dumbfounded, before he finally snapped himself out of it and went around the bench to stand beside you. “Hey,” he said, holding out the water. “I just, uhh—I just saw Spencer stalk off. He looked pretty pissed. Was he botherin’ ya? Are ya alright?”

You accepted the glass and drank deeply from it, suddenly realizing that you actually were pretty thirsty. You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine. And maybe now that fucking asshole will finally leave me alone… Idiot,” you mumbled, looking back at the water.

Daryl shifted awkwardly on his feet. His heart was racing as he thought about what you had said. He watched with concern as you took another drink of whiskey from the bottle, this time grimacing a little at the burn. “Would ya quit that?” he asked, drawing your eyes to him.

You studied him for a moment. “Wanna get out of here?” you asked, glancing back at the crowd around the bonfire. Daryl followed your eyes and then looked back at you. His expression was unsure. He was trying to guess at your meaning. “Just—go for a walk or something. We can at least tell Aaron we came,” you said.

He chewed his bottom lip for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, alright. Somebody oughta babysit ya anyway,” he snarked. You pulled a face at him in response and one corner of his mouth twitched up.

“Alright then, chaperone. C’mon,” you said. Bottle in hand, you started to follow the edge of the reservoir, moving away from the glow of the bonfire and the loud laughter and conversation. Daryl walked next to you, content just to walk quietly. You ended up on the other side of the pond from the party, leaning on the railing of the dock and looking back across the water. Daryl walked past you to stand at the end of the dock. You meandered over to him and took in his broad shoulders and muscular arms. You couldn’t help biting your bottom lip. Oh, fuck You are in trouble… you thought to yourself. “Can you swim, Dixon?” you asked him suddenly. He had just enough time to snap around to look at you before you were grinning at him and pushing him hard, your uninjured hand flat in the center of his chest. He went plummeting into the water backwards and came back up gasping as you laughed hard at his expense.

“Are ya frickin’ kiddin’ me?! The hell is wrong with ya?!” he barked at you, treading water. His long hair was plastered to his face. “Oh, yer dead,” he growled at you.

“I’m dead? What are ya gonna do?” You slowly paced backwards on the dock, a wide, genuine smile crinkling your eyes, and the sight of that was enough to make any real annoyance Daryl had evaporate. He couldn’t resist that megawatt smile. “You made it so easy! You were just standing right there at the end!” you said back. “What, I was supposed to just not take that opportunity?”

Daryl let out a chesty growl and pointed a finger at you. “You and whiskey should not mix.” He pushed his wet hair out of his face and swam back to the edge of the dock. “Well…” he said expectantly, staring at you.

You laughed again and shrugged. “Well?”

“At least come help me get the hell out of here,” he rumbled.

You let out a loud laugh. “How stupid do you think I am? I know you just want me to come over there so you can pull me in or splash me or something! Besides, I can’t pull you out. Wrist? Ribs? Remember?”

Daryl muttered under his breath and pulled himself out on the dock, his wet clothes sticking to him, complete with sopping wet boots. He stared down at the water pouring off him onto the wooden deck.

You pressed your lips together in a pleased attempt to stifle more laughter.

“You’re dead,” he growled again, looking up at you. “I ain’t babysittin’ your ass no more. I dun care if ya do fall in and drown,” he barked, starting to stalk toward you to leave the dock.

“Oh, come on, Daryl. It’s pretty funny. I mean, if it were reversed—”

“My damn boots,” he interrupted, giving you another glare.

You stared down at his feet and grimaced. “Right… well… come on. I’ll walk you back to your house so you can change. It’s the least I can do,” you said, trying hard to stifle more laughter at the glare the archer was giving you.

“I should throw ya in right now,” he said. “Maybe it’d sober ya up,” he said, shaking the water from his arms.

“Hey—I probably shouldn’t be swimming! I’m a cripple, remember?”

“Uh huh. Convenient,” he muttered. He started down the sidewalk, leaving wet footprints. You jogged a little to catch up with him and although he could feel your eyes on him he was determined not to look at you, trying to pretend he was still mad. It didn’t last long and when he next looked up you saw that one corner of his mouth was quirked up in a half-smile. Your grin widened. “Ya are gonna pay for this eventually, ya know,” he said gruffly.

“Worth it.”

You walked with Daryl in a comfortable silence all the way back to the house he was sharing with many of his group members, although some had split up and moved in to the other house by now. You froze suddenly at the bottom of the stairs as Daryl climbed them.

“Woah,” you said. You pressed a hand to your head.

Daryl glanced back at you and rolled his eyes, letting out a sharp exhale. “Whiskey?”

“Yeah, it’s like it all just hit me at once.”

He let out a gruff laugh. “It ain’t hittin’ ya at once. Ya been slurrin’ for over an hour now.” He came back down the steps and gently grasped your elbow, his heart jumping as his fingers made contact with you. “C’mon. Let’s get ya some more water.”

You smiled at him a little abashedly as he led you inside. It was the first time you’d ever been in their house and you looked around, taking in Rick’s spare pair of boots by the front door and Judith’s high chair at the table.

“Here,” he said, shoving a full water glass into your hands. “I’mma get some dry clothes and rinse off this pond smell all over me. Thanks to you…” You laughed again and shrugged.

“You look good all wet though,” you said, the words surprising you even as they slipped out.

Daryl’s blue eyes narrowed and he ducked his head, mumbling a gruff “whatever” before disappearing downstairs to retrieve some clothes, completely baffled and unable to come up with any response to that. He hoped you hadn’t been able to see the warmth he certainly felt in his face. He came back quickly with a towel over his shoulder and some clothes under his arm and pointed at you vehemently. “Now just sit down and quit with the damn whiskey. Don’t go anywhere.”

You saluted him and affected a serious face, resulting in him rolling his eyes at you again. But you left the whiskey bottle on the counter and took your glass of water into the living room with you. As you sunk down on the couch, you heard the shower turn on. You unwound the light scarf from around your neck and tossed it down carelessly. Daryl’s crossbow was sitting on the coffee table and you picked up one of the spare bolts from where it was laying on the table and spun it absently between your fingers. You collapsed back on the couch so you were laying out flat and stared up at the shapes of the shadows on the ceiling. They shifted a little as your vision seemed to spin. You planted a foot on the floor to ground yourself.

You knew it was stupid to get drunk… but sometimes you just wanted to try to forget.

That’s where Daryl found you when he came back out, now in his change of dry clothes. “Y/N?”

“Over here,” you said, still spinning his crossbow bolt between your fingers. He looked over the back of the couch at you, leaning on his forearms.

You smiled up at him, just a small one, but it sent his heart fluttering. He was always amazed that that smile was just for him.

“Well, I think I smell a bit less like pond now,” he drawled.

You leaned up on your elbow a little, ignoring the twinge in your ribs. You dramatically sniffed in his direction and he gave you a look. “Less pond,” you said. “For sure.”

Leaning up closed half the distance to Daryl as he looked down at you and you felt suddenly like the air was charged. Probably just the alcohol, you thought to yourself, gulping at the sudden lump in your throat.

Daryl felt it too and he suddenly couldn’t hold your gaze any longer, running away from the feeling. It was magnetic. But he told himself there was no possible way you were feeling the same thing and he straightened back up and just like that the electricity, the heaviness in the air evaporated.

You glanced down at his crossbow bolt in your hands with a fluttering in your chest. “Probably shouldn’t leave these lying around with a baby in the house, ya know,” you said, waggling the bolt at him.

“She ain’t crawling much yet. But yeah… you’re probably right.”

“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” you said. Daryl gave you a questioning look, one eyebrow raised. “Judith.”

Daryl smiled and looked down at his hands on the back of the couch. “Ya. It is.” You liked the way his expression softened at the thought of her.

You strained to sit up straighter, an arm wrapping around your ribs. Daryl watched the tight expression of pain take your face over and then pass and he felt another hot flash of rage about what had been done to you outside the walls. And he had so many questions he wanted to ask you, so many worries… but you were so closed about it…

You spoke again, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re lucky. You have so many people, good people, and—they all obviously care about you. A lot.” Your voice was soft and Daryl finally looked up again and met your eyes with his. He felt a rush of nerves.

“Ya. Don’t make any damn sense, really,” he drawled.

“Makes perfect sense to me.”

Daryl felt those annoying butterflies flit to life in his stomach again. God, you hardly had to say anything, do anything for that to happen. What the hell was wrong with him? “Ya got people, too,” he said. “That care about ya.”

You let out a somewhat wry laugh. “I’ve got Aaron and Eric. Aaaand… that’s about it,” you said. You discarded his bolt back on the table.

“Nah. Ya got more than that.”

Daryl’s response drew your eyes back to his in surprise and you swore that his gaze was flitting between your eyes and your lips. Your lips parted slightly of their own accord. You felt suddenly breathless and the space between the two of you was charged again.

You gulped at the tightness in your throat suddenly and looked away, running scared. “I’m just—I’m not good at letting people in,” you whispered, not meaning it to come out so softly.

“And ya think I am?” Daryl laughed gruffly. “People have a way of gettin’ in anyway. If they want to.”

You were struggling to come up with something to say to that when the front door suddenly opened. Daryl straightened up and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You suddenly remembered you weren’t the only two people in the world.

“Oh, good! Daryl, you’re—oh!” It was Carol. “I didn’t realize we had company!” Her voice had been much more relaxed, much lower when she first spoke, but her tone and face suddenly brightened when she realized you were there.

You climbed to your feet and gave her a tight smile. “I was just heading out actually. It’s late,” you said, shooting a glance over at Daryl. He rubbed a hand awkwardly over the back of his neck.

“Ya, alright. I’ll walk ya out,” he murmured. He could feel Carol watching the two of you all the way across the kitchen and up into the front hall.

You stopped in the entryway to turn and give him a small smile. “Thanks. For tonight,” you said quietly. He gave you a dumbfounded look.

“I didn’t do anything,” he murmured. “’Cept not kill ya after ya pushed me in the damn pond.”

You laughed at his confusion. “Yeah. You did.” You turned to leave but froze once again with your hand on the doorknob. “Oh—and you can tell Carol she can knock off the suburban sweetheart act with me, okay? I’m not buying it. I’ll see ya, Daryl. Goodnight.”

Daryl spun around to see Carol standing at the end of the hall, her eyes narrowed as she stared at the space you had just occupied. “Did ya hear—”

“Huh,” Carol interrupted. “Yeah. She’s the only person to figure that out so far.” She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded before looking back at the archer. “I like her.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Ya, she’s annoyingly observant. Rick tell ya she knew he was a cop immediately, too?”

“Well, sorry to interrupt your date,” she said with a small smile. “She didn’t have to leave just because I showed up.”

“Would ya quit?” he rasped gruffly. “Wasn’t a ‘date,’ alright? We’re just—” he shrugged and Carol raised her eyebrows at him knowingly.

“Wait—why is your hair all wet?” she asked, moving closer to Daryl.

He groaned and rolled his eyes again. “She fuckin’ pushed me into the damn pond,” he admitted in a low growl. Carol let out a loud guffaw.

“Oh, yeah. I definitely like her,” she said with a grin. “You should bring her around more often. Let everyone get to know her.”

Daryl rolled his eyes again and headed for the living room to collect his bow. “Quit tryin’a meddle, would ya?”

Carol laughed and tried to look affronted. “I haven’t done anything! God, you’re so sensitive,” she teased him. “What’s that?”

Daryl’s hand closed around your scarf, which you had discarded carelessly on the floor. “Y/N’s.”

“Little warm still for scarf weather isn’t it?” Carol asked, peering at it curiously.

“Ya. She was—she was wearin’ it because of the bruises on her neck. One of those assholes was—” he broke off as he remembered turning the corner and seeing the guy on top of you with his hands around your neck. He felt another hot flush of rage. “When we were outside the walls, one of ‘em was choking her. She’s got marks all around her neck. Probably didn’t want anyone else seein’ em.”

“God. I couldn’t see them in here. It’s too dark,” Carol muttered. “That’s horrible,” she said. Daryl nodded, feeling the soft fabric between his fingers.

“Mhm.” He gave one more nod to Carol. “G’night,” he said, heading immediately for his space in the basement, the scarf still dangling from his hand. He flopped down on his back on the bed, running the soft fabric between his fingers. His stomach was turning as he thought of you, that brilliant smile you gave up so rarely staying in his mind’s eye. He squeezed his eyes shut and chewed his bottom lip, trying to banish it. The hell were all these damn feelings? The archer finally let out a frustrated sigh and set your scarf down on his bedside table before putting out the flame of his lantern and rolling onto his side, chasing sleep.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #my gifs #daryl dixon series #alexandria #sacrifice #part 7 #daryl dixon fluff #daryl fluff

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batmayne · 4 years

Text

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 “𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘” 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 - fluff alphabet by @snk-warriors

featured song: Hide by Juice Wrld and Seezyn

warnings: small mentions of angst

authors note: this was written before tfatws (aka before I knew bucky’s personality) so I apologize for any inconsistencies and or if he’s ooc.

𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 - what do they like to do with their significant other? how do they spend their free time with them?

Since Bucky’s only available time to spend with you would most likely just be time he had off in between missions (unless you were an avenger yourself), most of your time spent together would be spent relaxing. If you do happen to not be an Avenger or maybe live out of New York (kind of like Laura Barton) he would more inclined to spend time at your house instead of his own. You are his solace away from all of the peril and endangerment that comes with his everyday occupation from saving the world from various threats - anytime spent with you is enough to make him happy. Activities wise I believe that he would enjoy simple things like taking your dog for a walk in the park, visiting a local museum or even just going to a family owned diner to grab milkshakes. Time not spent out would most likely be spent indoors reading or watching movies.

𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 - what do they admire about their significant other? what do they think is beautiful about them?

I can’t imagine that things like appearance, weight and height mean a whole lot to him, your personality is what really drew him in. He was initially attracted to your kindness and patience, because just befriending someone with the amount of baggage that his past holds is no easy feat. Unlike others, you didn’t treat him like a monster because of what HYDRA had forced him to do for the past 70 years of brainwashing. He admires you for taking the time to understand him when no one else did, especially after Steve went back in time to be with Peggy. He and Sam had become close of course but it couldn’t compare to what he had with you.

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓 - how would they help their significant other when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

He knows all to well what it means it be “feeling down” or having troubles mentally so he would be very understanding about it. If you a working or have some sort of occupation he would encourage you to probably take some time off to recover and if he was able he would take a break as well so you wouldn’t be alone. If it was more serious he would want you to go get help, because that is what you have done for him in the past.

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 - how do they picture their future with their significant other?

As mentioned earlier, I think that seeing what happened to Steve after he decided to spend his life with Peggy and have children of his own really would have struck a chord with him. Once he came out of HYDRA’s possession I think he may have thought that a chance at having a different life with a significant other and even children would be near impossible - but after he met you he was willing to give that fantasy a second try. I think he would be over the moon with eventually marrying you when things calm down some (he wouldn’t want to put you in danger if some enemy was targeting him) and having a child or two (if you wanted). Overall I think he just just craves for a simple and peaceful life with you, without having to worry about the dangers of his job or the outside world.

𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋 - are they the dominant one in the relationship or rather passive?

The both of you are definitely equals in this relationship, in every aspect. I have to mention though, some of that 40’s gentleman may come out at times where he likes to hold the door open for you or help you out of the car. But he would only do this if you were comfortable with it of course, if it bothered you or got on your nerves in any way he would definitely stop - no questions asked.

𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 - would they be easy to forgive their significant other? how are they fighting?

There may be more arguments in the beginning of the relationship because he hasn’t been in one in so long, and the majority of them center around either him not wanting to hurt you on accident (I imagine that he is still uncomfortable with his arm) or pushing you away. Eventually after he gets more comfortable around you the fights will lessen, but when they do occur you just give eachother plenty of space before reconciling and trying to work things out. One thing he will not do is leave for a mission without making up with you - if something happened and your relationship was left on a bad note he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄 - how grateful are they in general? are they aware of what their significant other is doing for them?

Bucky is beyond grateful that you are with him and he would reassure you about it constantly. Befriending him alone is a huge task in itself, not everyone has the patience to even do something as simple as that. Taking the time to get to know and understand why he is the way he is without judging him for it is something that he will be forever greatfull for.

𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐘 - do they hide secrets from their significant other? or do they share everything?

As much as he would want to shelter his ominous and dark past from you he knew that wouldn’t be possible with him being a wanted criminal several years ago - he wasn’t exactly famous be he was definitely well known (unfortunately not for the better parts of his life). It would take him some time for him to open up about everything he has gone through, but after some time he will open up about it. It’s nothing against you personally, he just fears that once you know everything you’ll run away from him (which wou wouldn’t of course). He just needs some time.

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 - did their significant other change them somehow or the other way around? like trying out new things or helped them overcome problems?

Your relationship has had quite the positive effect on him since the start, and it’s something that his friends would immediately take notice of. Of course you couldn’t solve and help with everything that HYDRA has put him through, but just having you around has done tremendous things for his mood. When Sam notices that he hasn’t said “I hate you” to him in the past week, he knew that something was up.

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 - do they get jealous easily? how do they deal with it?

I think Bucky would be more protective than jealous, but not in a creepy or possessive sense if you get what I am saying? He wouldn’t mind if you spent a lot of time hanging out with friends or anything like that, but if he feels like someone is making you uncomfortable he wouldn’t hesitate to place a reassuring hand around your waist so they’ll back off.

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 - are they a good kisser? how was their first kiss? and 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 - how did they confess to their significant other?

He isn’t particular with his kisses in my opinion, as long as they aren’t too sloppy and there aren’t many people around (I’ll discuss this more in the PDA section). I head canon that he really likes giving and receiving cheek and forehead kisses - but he will repeatedly deny it if you mention it to anyone else. (Your first kiss and love confession happened at the same time so I wrote a little Drabble about it below eugh)

Your first kiss took place when you were bordering the fine line between friends and something more. Bucky was taking some time off after a particularly rough mission and you gave him a place to stay away from all of the action. Finding him outside relaxing on a bench not too far from your house/apartment, you joined him and sat in a peaceful silence for a few minutes.

“Hey [Your Name]?” He spoke tentatively, distracting you from picking at the fraying end of your shorts.

“What’s up?” You questioned in turn, raising an eyebrow. Your breath hitched when you felt the coolness of his metal hand gently grab one of yours, and his human one placed itself on top.

“I just want to say thank you.”

“Bucky, you know you’re welcome to stay here anytime you need to-“

“That’s not what I meant.” He cut you off immediately, his voice wavering slightly. “I mean thank you, for accepting me, and not judging me for my past.”

“Of course.” You chirped back, maybe a little too fast.

It sounds cheesy but it did feel as if something was drawing your faces closer, and you eventually placed your free hand on his cheek as if saying a silent “yes”. When his lips finally pressed upon your own you felt an eruption of butterflies fly around your stomach, especially after you felt his arm glide around to your back. Once he pulled away it was hard to keep the smiles plastered off of both of your faces.

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐄 - do they want to get married? how would they propose to their significant other?

Marriage wasn’t one of the things he thought that he would be able to enjoy when he was rescued from HYDRA, but I believe after he began his relationship with you he would most likely change his mind. Within the first few months of dating he already knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you so why not go ahead and tie the knot? He’d probably wait around a year to ensure that you felt the same before popping the question. I don’t get the “proposing in front of a large crowd of people vibe” from him so I’d probably say he would propose at an at home dinner where it was just the two of you. Most likely on a holiday such as Valentine’s Day or someday that was meaningful for the both of you (like the day you met or when you officially started dating).

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 - what do they call their significant other?

Other than your name, Dollface or Doll.

𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 - what are they like in love? is it obvious to others? How do they express their feelings?

Now, I wouldn’t necessarily call him a simp - because that would be disrespectful, but. Other than being reunited with his childhood best friend Steve, you are the best thing that has happened to him. Of course you couldn’t possibly solve all of his problems and erase everything horrible that has happened to him but you sure do help a lot. Sam notices that he is in noticeably brighter spirits and he is also experiencing less nightmares. When a particular mission gets rough or difficult the only thing keeping him going is knowing that you are at home waiting for him.

𝐏𝐃𝐀 - are they upfront about their relationship? do they brag with their significant other in front of others? or are they shy to kiss etc. with other people around?

Similar to Steve, I reckon that he wouldn’t be comfortable with public displays of affection because of the era he was raised in, where it was more frowned upon. Another thing to remember is that even though his name has been cleared he was a wanted criminal for quite some time, so I imagine he is already somewhat self conscious about being in public already. Additionally, the nature of his job caused him to already be a wanted target for many dangerous people, and he wants to keep you away from that by keeping you a secret from the public. This isn’t to say that he would be opposed to hand holding or subtle things such as that, just nothing that what be too attention grabbing from other people.

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐊 - what random ability do they have that’s beneficial in the relationship?

As kind as he is once you get to know him personally - there is no denying that he can be quite intimidating, even without the vibranium arm. Though not intentional. Being with him is like having your own personal bodyguard around you at all times. Normally, you wouldn’t even have to worry about the potential unwanted admirer because his presence would scare them off before they even attempted to say anything.

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 - how romantic are they? What would they do to make their significant other happy?

I cannot emphasize this enough, he is the perfect gentleman. Since he is unfortunately gone so often (saving the world and all), I theorize that his love language might be Recieving Gifts. They may not be extravagant or expensive but they’re things he thought you would like from the various locations that he’s visitied for missions. As far as making you happy he’ll do just about anything (within reason of course). Take watching movies for example, there may be a particular genre or type of film he isn’t interested in, but if you want to watch it he’ll oblige because he knows you would do the same for him. Another thing is when he is at home and not busy with missions, he ensures that all of his free time is spent with you.

𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 - are they helping their significant other achieve their goals? do they believe in them?

He may not right off understand everything you want to achieve and why, but he would certainly do everything he can to help you achieve in them. Like I said, he might not actually understand entirely all of your goals, but he will be supportive regardless.

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋 - do they need to try out new things to spice out their relationship? or do they prefer a specific routine?

Having been basically shut out from the world for the past 70 years, there is a plethora of things that Bucky has not seen yet or tried. Each date you have could mean trying something new, so things rarely ever get boring for with of you. While he doesn’t mind keeping a routine like getting dinner every Friday, its nearly impossible with what he does for a living.

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 - how much do they know their partner? are they empathetic?

As you do with him, he knows you like the back of his hand. Even though he may not have known you throughout your entire life, I would say knows you on a closer level than most of your friends and relatives (which the exception of your parents and closest friends depending on your on your relationship with them). As stated earlier, he might not understand everything that you might go through but he will surely be empathetic to all of your struggles - as you are with his own.

𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐔𝐄 - how important is the relationship to them? what is it’s in it’s comparison to their things in their life?

Your relationship is by far the best thing that has ever happened to him so if something were to happen to it he would certainly be broken up over it, as would you. A lot of your relationship was founded on helping eachother through difficult times going on in both of your lives so the relationship ending would be quite problematic for the both of you. In comparison to other things that are in his life you are most definitely at the very top of that list.

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 - a random fluff head canon.

He refuses to let you tie your own shoes when they come loose. It was a subtle thing you noticed even at the beginning of your friendship. One of your laces would come untied and he’d keep insisting that you tie them so you wouldn’t fall and get hurt - until he eventually would just do it himself. It was a subtle gesture but still enough to make you swoon a bit at the kindness of it.

𝐗𝐎𝐗𝐎 - are they affectionate? do they love to kiss and cuddle?

He is indeed affectionate, as long as you are alone and no other people are around. Having said this I feel like having a significant other who is constantly cuddling him might make him uncomfortable, so someone more low key and less touchy would be his vibe. Bucky has spent a lot of his life alone and in isolation, so it would definitely be something that he would get used to at the beginning of your relationship. This doesn’t mean he wont cuddle at all though, he just may not be into it as much as others.

𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 - how will they cope when they are missing their partner?

An unfortunate side effect of dating a superhero is that they’ll be away on missions quite often - you and Bucky’s relationship was no stranger to that. I’d imagine that he would attempt to call and text as much as he could, but of course the majority of the time he would be unavailable. To cope with missing you, he would probably end up talking about it to Sam after a lot of coaxing. While it would indeed help some, what actually kept him going was as I said earlier: knowing that you were at home safe and waiting for him to get back.

𝐙𝐄𝐀𝐋 - what lengths are they will to go for the relationship? if so what kind of lengths?

As I have stated numerous times your relationship is what keeps him going everyday, it’s what wakes him up in the morning. You are the single most important person in his life and always will be. He would do anything within his power to ensure your safety (within the parameters of reason of course). But in general he would do about anything for your relationship.

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oftenderweapons · 4 years

Text

Steamy Waters — Jimin

Pairing: Jimin x reader (nicknamed Princess)

Wordcount: 7.1k (to be edited when my eyes aren’t bleeding)

Genre: NSFW, pwp, smut, slightest crack. Established relationship, Idol!AU

Rating: so 18+ I feel bad at age 22.

Hello ladybirds! Welcome to the Steamy Waters scenarios.

Let me move very quickly to the plot (I’m super late in publishing this — yes, it’s 7am, I stayed up all night but I was having fun🤭🥴). Well, it’s been a while since Jimin has returned from the tour. Princess is supposed to meet with Vixen and Lace — Girls’ Night squad is back — for dinner and is missing only a few details before leaving when Jimin presents his counterarguments. Too benevolent to leave him sulking — and too vulnerable to his charms — Princess decides she has enough time to indulge him. Of course she ends up being late to the appointment, but she’s not the only one.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: well. Swearing/slurs (used between girls who are joking among each other) Also, there’s a generic mention of drinking wine and tipsiness at the end of the piece. Hard dom!Jimin (Sir), bratty sub!reader; use of non-verbal safewords; very mild degradation (mostly patronising acts and hinted objectification — Jimin calls reader ‘doll’; very, very mild dumbification); masturbation, both male and female, clitoral vibrator; oral, male receiving, brief female receiving; the oral male receiving is pretty intense (includes ruined makeup, gagging, tearing up, wrist pinning and wrist bondage), facefucking; plenty of voyeurism (mirrors. Mirrors everywhere); marking (with lipstick) female and male (milder) receiving; lipstick and make up fetish; spanking with a hairbrush; partly accidental exhibitionism through phonecall (the girls are telling each other they’re gonna be late but a bunch of things go wrong so all the phonecalls end up exposing the characters and their current debauchery); playful mention of foot fetish (licking, it’s contained in a joke). FINALLY, AS USUAL, UNPROTECTED SEX WITHIN AN ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP! NO, DON’T DO IT UNLESS YOU AND YOUR PARTNER(S) ARE TESTED AND CLEAN.

Features: Namjoon x Vixen; Taeyhung x Lace. Yes. The Girls’ Night squad is back and this time it’s not Vixen’s turn to cause trouble.

Here is my masterlist!

Enjoy!!!

———————————————

Jimin was sulking.

Old news.

That brat is a professional sucker… ahem, sulker.

Anyway, he was sulking in the bathtub, the lower part of his face hidden under the bubbles, his stare so vicious he could have probably thrown very sharp daggers with it.

“It’s just one dinner.”

“It’s Saturday night! What about you join me in the tub we do our full skin care ritual and I fuck you senseless on our bed.”

“Please, the girls have been so kind to me. We have planned this dinner weeks ago.”

“I am less important than your friends?” Jimin opposed, sitting up and crossing his arms.

Dammit, you were walking in very dangerous territory. “In this moment you are a tiiiny millimeter less important than them. Very tiny millimeter.”

“Are you serious?”

“Jimin,” you begin to say, trying to make him understand. “We have the rest of the week. I owe them.” You told him. “We are always so busy, we can never meet up, plus with you guys’ crazy schedule we need our own debriefing. Let me have my time, baby.”

“So you prefer staying by yourself rather than spending time with me?” He said.

“That is not what I mean and you know it.” You replied, frowning, sitting at the vanity.

You opened a small drawer.

Oopsie. Wrong one.

Unless?

You checked your watch noticing that you had an hour left. You could make it a quick thing. Something to make Jimin quiet and willing to let you leave the house with the excuse that ‘the sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be back’.

Sure, your brain might have been slightly confused by the thought of him naked in the bathtub, and the scent of his body wash, and the sexy way his elbows were propped on top of the edges of the tub, the water sliding down his perfectly toned, smooth chest, his head thrown back, wetness glittering on his plump, luscious lips.

His eyes opened. “Fine. Go.” He said, and his voice was grumpy and sad.

You couldn’t leave him like this. Still, it wasn’t important what he said specifically. The only thing you noticed was his dulcet timbre, like a siren calling you.

Without even precisely knowing what you were doing exactly, you took the small seat in front of the vanity and the tiny, powerful toy inside your drawer; you walked to the side of the tub, placing the chair there and tugging your pencil skirt up, exposing your panties. The mirror behind the tub offered your reflection to your unsure gaze, making you move your eyes away.

Of course Jimin noticed. Of course he stayed quiet.

He’d much rather watch you undisturbed as you bent forward, pulling down your panties and sitting down, your skirt bunched up in your lap as you spread your legs and propped your feet against the edge of the tub, dragging your toes against his elbow to catch his attention. He would boost your confidence later, when it mattered the most to you.

“What is it?” He called, pretending he hadn’t seen what you were doing.

“You’re not interested?” You asked, switching on your finger vibrator, a tiny device with a silicone band that wrapped around the back of your digit and a thick, bulbous head on the other side, a vibrator embedded in the thicker part, with the specific aim of making the ridges and patterns on the head repeatedly stimulate your clit.

The sensation was immediate, rubbing it up and down your slit a couple times, you managed to capture Jimin’s ears — and eyes, soon after.

“Princess?” He called, staring at you, your hand wandering and finding purchase on the bathroom counter.

“Yes?” You moaned sultrily.

“Don’t you need to go out with the girls?” He asked, his eyes hypnotised by the motion of the toy moving back and forth from your clit to your hole and back up.

“I thought I could give you this, as a treat.” You said, licking your lips.

“A very generous one.” He replied, licking his lips, bracing his forearms on the edge of the tub, settling between your open legs and placing his cheek on the back on his hands, staring, completely mesmerised.

Your breath was becoming irregular. “How close?” He asked.

“Not too much.” You replied, removing your hand on the counter and placing it on your chest, palming it heavily.

His gaze climbed up to watch your flesh swell as you squished it. “Does it feel good?” He asked, untucking one of his hands to remove the cover blocking the drain of the tub.

Water started to rush out, his hand going from the drain to your ankle, drawing patterns up your calf, the other one lazily reaching for his length, tugging it a couple times.

Your eyes closed as you started feeling the edge of your high, the image of Jimin kneeling before you filling your senses, imagining him everywhere, all over you, his mouth on your nipples, between your legs, his hips smashing against your ass as he slammed inside you from behind, and his deliciously candy-pink cock in your mouth.

“I’m close.” You murmured.

His hand slowed down between his legs. As if it could go any slower.

“Cum for me, Princess.” He ordered. Still, siren voice.

A pattern of quick circles on your clit possessed your digit, your brain going on autopilot to the fastest way to pleasure. “Jimin, please.”

“What, Princess?” He replied flirtily, gleaming in cockiness as you were begging him without him even putting his hands on you.

“Please.” You called again, as pleasure overthrew you, your lips parting in one long, purring moan, first very high-pitched and then descending all the way down to your normal voice as you calmed down, focusing on chasing your high until it became too much, your eyes closing completely, your free hand reaching behind your, holding you up since the stool couldn’t be trusted much.

As you removed your finger — and the adjoined vibrator — you felt something wet and soft part your folds and titillate the tight ring of muscles at your entrance, still quivering with your fresh climax.

Your eyes opened, blinking a few times before you spotted Jimin’s wet hair below you, his head between your legs, body tucked in the small space between your body and the tub.

“Put that finger back on your clit. We’re not done here.” He said, placing one of his hands on your spine, on the small of your back, holding you up while his other arm went to his thick shaft. You loved looking at it, at how deliriously pretty it looked. You would gladly print a very big picture of it. Hang it in your closet. Stand there and look at it every now and then, with a glass of wine. Get inspired by the shape, length and colour. Find new ways to please him and torture him. Study every small vein on it. Every tiny detail. The small mole at the base — God only knows how a mole can end up there. And how it can make a cock look so insanely, unfairly pretty.

You felt crazy for it, completely devoid of your own will. And the way his hand left your back and caught your wrist, placing your buzzing finger on your clit made you even wilder.

“Jimin.” You called, your other hand ending in his hair and tugging him closer.

He chuckled mischievously. “Needy.” He said simply, before fighting against you trying to remove his head. You were too close.

It was all too much.

“Jimin!” You called again, desperate and embarrassed.

“Oh, no.” He said, moving his fingers away from your wrist and crooking his arm at the right angle before sliding two of his fingers inside you, his digits just the perfect measurement to reach your g-spot.

“Feels too good.” You mewled, removing your finger from your clit. Too much stimulation.

“Put that finger back in place.” He growled, his hand moving angrily on his own sex.

“Please!” You said, whining and whimpering.

“Back in place, Princess.” He said sharply.

Without room for opposition, you did as he ordered.

“Good girl.” He murmured as you cried out at your finger and his working you towards your second high. “You’re doing so well for me.” He added.

“I can’t.” You said, feeling your pleasure amplify in your abdomen. Suddenly your ears zeroed on the nasty, squelching sound coming from between your legs.

“Oh, you can, Princess. Keep going, sweetie. Sir’s waiting for you.”

He had entered dom zone.

Well, fuck.

You were officially done for the night. Especially when he pressed his chin to his hand, his tongue devilishly playing with your sensitive hole while his fingers stimulated your pulsating walls.

You came undone. His moaning turned in loud, thin moans, open mouthed breathing as he finally reached his high with a tight squeal that undid a knot in his throat.

You removed the toy almost immediately, the filling sensation inside your cunt definitely too much for your nerve endings.

He didn’t even notice, and when he did, he let it slip. You were deep in your second climax, making you sensitive and vulnerable, and he had no intention of overstepping any boundaries. Yet. His fingers slowed down, his mouth parting from you; his hand stopped at his base, giving a slow, strong tug at his shaft, milking out the last few droplets of his release.

“There you go. Has your treat been satisfactory, Princess?” He asked with a saccharine voice, most definitely trying to tease you with his bratty ways, or maybe gloating about him getting what he wants. As usual.

“Very.” You replied, pressing down the button on the ring and removing the toy from your finger.

He unhooked his fingers from your sex, sliding them out and licking one gingerly. “Nice.” He grinned in a dangerously endearing way. “Let’s clean up, yes? Can you stand?” He asked, gentle as always, standing up and quickly moving to the sink, washing up the remnants of your shared debauchery on his hands.

“I hope so.” You replied, grabbing a small towel and running it under the tap before cleaning yourself, drying your skin with an unused corner. You wore your panties and tugged your skirt down next.

“Would you like me to do your make up?” Jimin asked, looking at you in the mirror. “I’d like to repay you for the sweet treat. And I don’t want you to think I don’t support you going out.” He turned towards you, completely comfortable in his naked state. “Consider it my way of blessing your plans.”

And maybe bless your face when you come back home later and drool on my cock.

You smiled. “That’s nice of you, Jimin.”

“I’m always nice.” He said, rubbing a towel wildly against his hair before wrapping it around his waist, grabbing the small bench and putting it close to the vanity, strategically placing you so the light would hit your face enough for him to properly do your make up. “Sit, darling.” He said, patting the seat.

You followed his direction, checking your watch. Twenty-five minutes until you needed to head out.

“You already did toner, serum, lotion, all of that?” He asked, making sure that the canvas was at its best.

“Yeah.” You confirmed, wearing the small necklace he had gifted after coming back from the tour.

“You already wore your cream?”

“Yes!” You repeated, playfully cocky.

He swatted at your calf. “Don’t play cocky with me.” He reprimanded, matchingly playful.

“Primer.” He said, standing up, his perfect chest right in front of your eyes for the briefest of seconds. Then he walked behind you, removing the whole small drawer and bringing it with him as he kneeled down again, pouring a small amount of concoction on the tip of his index and middle finger. “It’s summer so I bet you’d like to stay light.” He said, touching the two digits with their twins on the other hand, only to draw tiny dots all over your face, and then using his devilish hands to spread the lotion. “Sorry, I prefer using these rather than sponges and stuff.” He said, but it was actually simply an excuse to touch your face.

The more touching he could do the better.

His goal was getting you going and any kind of touching on your face felt intimate enough to be more powerful than a booty grab or a whole body slam all over you at the moment. He just knew.

With his pinkie, he pushed back the small hair on your forehead. “You know what? Fuck beauty standards. Out there is damp like a swamp today, you should just wear some BB cream and stay fresh.” He said, kissing your head. “You’re perfect anyway.”

“Jimin.” You said, a tad emotional.

“And I don’t want men staring at you. You’d look too pretty with full makeup.” He said, leaving a ginger kiss on your lips. “I want you to shine as you are.” He said, grabbing a small compact hand mirror containing a cushion imbued with light foundation. He took a small puff and pressed it twice against the cushion before placing his left index under your chin, directing your face as he patted the puff against your face, distributing the lotion evenly.

“It contains mother-of-pearl powder. It will make you glitter like the princess you are.” He said, with a kind smile. “You already look like a diva, babygirl.” He said, twisting your head to the side before noticing a small blemish.

He stretched to the table behind you, your gaze focusing immediately on the small, solitary droplet of water rolling down his chest. A bit hesitant, you collected it with your tongue.

“Princess,” he warned before grinning.

You were slowly, very slowly surrendering. He just needed to play the last few cards right.

With your concealing pen in hand, he fixed the red spot on your cheek, and another smaller one on your chin, blending them with the slightly damp tip of his pinkie.

You smiled and caught his hand, kissing the small digit before smiling. “Your hands are absolutely lovely.” You said. This kind of small reassurance was something you offered him daily, and even though he played tough and acted as if he wasn’t bothered by those details he so stubbornly called flaws, you still made sure his self esteem could always thrive.

“I assumed so, considering what they did earlier.” He stood up and — maybe — accidentally the towel fell, his cock standing proud in front of your eyes.

May goodness help you and God protect you.

You reminded yourself of dinner, of the girls waiting on you. I mustn’t. You told yourself. Still a part of your brain told you you’d be a fool if you didn’t took your chance.

But your chance had already disappeared behind the towel once more. “Sorry.” He said, standing straight after bending down to grab the cloth and fixing it back in place. He collected the small wooden drawer too, putting it back in place in the vanity.

Next he took your beauty case, making sure that it contained exactly what he was looking for.

This time he stood in place in front of you, his navel perfectly in front of your face. He found a small box and opened it, fishing out a miniature brush and running it against white, glittering powder. “Just a faint sparkly effect on your lids. Close your eyes.” He whispered sweetly, putting the powder in place, on one eyelid. Then the other. And then every touch disappeared. Before you felt his fingers tracing your collarbones. “Just for the extra sparkles.” He said, grinning viciously once you opened your eyes. It was indeed his fingers. Not the brush. He took his chance to widen the neckline of your white chiffon blouse.

“Tip your head back.” He said, this time more commanding.

A shiver ran down your spine.

You obeyed.

He took a dark eye pencil. It was something you hadn’t used in a while, preferring lighter make up, usually using simply dark eyeshadow to trace the line of your eyelid.

“Black pencil?” You asked.

“Be quiet. It looks so good on you.” He said, focusing on applying it evenly on both lids. “Look down.”

Right at his abs. Fantastic.

You prayed the other girls were being tempted just like you. Knowing Vixen and Namjoon, he was probably already halfway up her panties. And Lace… well. She’d probably had to change her outfit at least three times to hide Taehyung’s marks. You hoped they were late too.

There was no way you could arrive at the appointment in time with Jimin in this mood. And with your blood roaring in your veins, cursing you for each second you let him stand untouched before your eyes it was all a matter of time before it all went to hell.

“Eyes to the ceiling.” He said, “I’ll do your lower inner lid.”

“Jimin, that’s a bit aggressive...” You replied, trying to keep his hand from going anywhere close to your eye.

“You look so intense with the lower line too, though.” He teased, already tracing the corner with a slow, light-handed touch. “Just a bit. Come on, make me happy.” He said. And with that you knew precisely he was in the mood. Just like you were.

At this point there was no fucking way you could make it in time.

You stood perfectly still, the pencil too near to your eye, too dangerously close to stabbing it. “Jimin,” you called, as he moved to the other eye. “I’m gonna be late.”

“Don’t worry about that.” He already knew there was no way the other men weren’t in a similar situation. Knowing Taehyung, he probably still had Lace naked. Especially after what he’d told him about their sexy weekend.

“Jimin, please.” You said, exasperated.

“Baby, I know you’ll be the first one there, as usual, and you’ll have to wait for them all dressed up and pretty.” He said. “Chill. You can be fashionably late.”

He put down the eye pencil and picked up the silvery tube of your mascara.

“Just a teensy, tiny bit.” He said, “Look straight ahead.”

You mean at your hard on peaking from under your towel?

Your lips twitched nervously as you tried to look away.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I’m gonna put my mouth on it.” You said in warning.

“Don’t,” He replied, fixing the upper lashes on your left eye. He applied way more mascara than necessary before moving on to the other eye.

“Don’t bat your lashes,” he said with a focused tone as he applied the finishing touches, giving quick, teasing flicks to the lower lashes and came back to the left side, making the two match.

“Lipstick.” He said.

You huffed out a stressed breath.

“Lip liner to make sure your lipstick doesn’t smear at dinner.” He said, tipping your chin up and drawing his face dangerously close to yours, his hot, quick breath fanning over your face. “Stay still.” He said, tracing your cupid bow first, then covering all the way from the peak to the angle, mirroring the gesture on the other side.

Your lower lip was tricky. From the middle he drew the left arc, then the right one. No matter how hard he concentrated there was something harder calling his attention.

And the situation worsened when he felt your hand timidly brush the back of his thigh.

“No.” He said harshly, cupping your jaw and squishing it, making sure that you opened your eyes and looked at him.

“Why?” You asked, your hand still climbing up.

“You need to go.”

“You said the girls will be late too. And I should be fashionably late.”

“Princess.” He said, his voice growling in a harsh warning.

“Jimin.” You warned, mocking his tone.

“Stay put. Let me finish my work here.” He said, a bit frustrated.

Your lips were tempting him. And his brain was telling him to claim, claim, claim.

For the umpteenth time, he closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled slowly and calmly.

He completed the weak spots on your liner before he inspected it.

He placed down the lip pencil.

He found your Chanel lipstick, uncapping it and focusing before placing the perfectly shaped tip against your upper lip, following the liner before completing the other half.

“Almost done, Princess.” He spoke gently. But his hand shook. Especially when he felt your nails tease his skin again.

“Princess.” He scolded eloquently.

“Jimin.” You called again.

“What.” He replied drily.

“I wanna be late.” You said, your palm climbing higher up under the towel and landing on his ass, squeezing a glute seductively.

“Let me finish.” He said, giving up.

You smiled before relaxing your lips, making them extra pillowy as you offered the lower one to him.

He tapped the red paste against the inner flesh before drawing half a line, then the other half.

“Pop them.” He said, as you started pressing your lips together lightly and making them sputter.

“Am I ready?” You asked.

Jimin smirked before his eyes turned sultry.

Looking him in the eye when he had that expression was too dangerous. He held too much power.

“No.”

He stared at the upper hem of your blouse, at the way it let your collarbones show with an expensive, classy bateau neckline.

Jimin stared at the front buttons. He placed down the lipstick. And started undoing the buttons.

You grinned. “Are you gonna make me get there late?” You asked expectantly.

“Quiet.”

You obeyed. Not like you had much choice.

He reached the lace of your bra, then undid more buttons, until he reached the waistline of your skirt.

“Arms out.” He said, making the delicate fabric of the shoulders slip past your wrists, letting the blouse fall around your waist.

“From now on, not a word. Are we clear?” He asked, making you look him in the eye. “Answer.”

“Yes, sir.” You said, obediently.

“Excellent. You move when I tell you. You move how I tell you. Yes?”

“Yes, sir.” You replied again. You were salivating at the idea of what he was going to do, how he was going to use you.

His hands moved to your bra, pushing the cups under your heavy breasts. “You’re my little doll, aren’t you? Sir wants you and your nipples pop up. I bet you’re wet between your legs without me even touching you. Are you wet, Princess?” He asked.

“I’m always wet for you, sir.” You said, offering him extra praise. Not like the statement wasn’t true.

He smirked and moved to the vanity once more, letting the towel fall for real. “It was an accident.” He said, mocking you, raising an eyebrow and shrugging. “Not like you mind staring at my cock, do you, Princess?”

“I love staring at your cock, Sir.” You replied, giving him absolutely no reason to complain about you or punish you.

“So hungry for it, little doll.” He snorted.

Once more the lipstick was in his hand.

“Who do you belong to, Princess?” He asked, stroking himself as his sweet, poisonous voice enchanted your ears.

“To you, sir.” You said, sitting with your back straight, your knees pressed together, your thighs squeezing in helpless arousal, your hands laying flat on your legs.

“What’s my name?” He said, licking his lower lip as a droplet of pre-cum appeared on his tip.

“Park Jimin, sir.” You answered, sharp and refined as he wanted you.

“Just my name, Princess. Say it.”

“Jimin.” You kept your eyes on your lap, not yet sure you were allowed to look at him.

“That’s right, Princess. Good girl.” He said, voice disturbingly neutral as he bent down.

He let go of his length, running his hand under the tap and drying it, oh-so-slowly, before he cupped your breast and stared at it, his expression focused and meditative.

He placed the tip of the lipstick on the left side of your breast, drawing an horizontal line. Two curled ones. A straight one. He moved to the other side. A rectangle. Another straight line. An L-shaped one.

“There. Stand up.” He said, placing down the lipstick and offering you his hand, helping you on your feet, making you stand in front of the mirror. “Who do you belong to, my beautiful princess?” He asked, standing behind you, his lips moving sensuously at your ear.

Right there, spelled on your chest in expensive, rouge Chanel lipstick, you found your answer, just like it was indented in your heart, mind and soul. “Jimin.” You read.

“That’s right, ____. Excellent job, doll.”

He turned you towards him and placed a gentle kiss on your lip.

“Now, kneel.” He ordered, smiling gently, however the command in his voice was icy and sharp.

You smiled shyly and obeyed. Once on your knees, you waited for his hands to feed you the tip of his cock, his precum making your lipstick glisten and stain his spongy head. You opened your mouth wider, lolling your tongue out in invitation, but he refused.

“Kiss it. I want it covered in lipstick.” He ordered. “Kiss it like it’s my face. I want imprints all over it.” He ordered.

And just like that it stood in front of you, exposing all the underside to your feverish and reverent kisses.

You were ready to beg for him to push it down your throat, desperate to feel the taste of him, to feel him there; then you remembered you weren’t allowed to speak unless he asked you.

You tried to talk the only way you could. Your eyes connected with his as you gave a gentle lick.

He snorted. “Want it in?” He asked, biting his lip and placing his hand on your head.

“Please, sir.” You begged: the easiest way to get what you want. You would never, ever beg for anything in your life. But for Jimin? You would lick the soles of his feet if he asked you to. Thank goodness he was too ticklish for that.

“Open up.” He said, grinning.

You assumed your position and waited for him to slide in. Holding your head, you felt his tip on your tongue, his hand feeding his cock into your mouth.

“That’s it, Princess.” He said, pushing inside.

Your hands naturally moved to his butt, leading him further in. You wanted to take him all the way, watch your lips print a nice red ring at his base.

“Hands in place, Princess.” He scolded.

You placed them lightly on your knees.

“Yes. Good girl.” He spoke through gritted teeth. He started thrusting in, your eyes watering as you felt your throat close up, hitting your knee noisily, twice, letting him know you needed to breathe.

“Okay.” He slid out, giving you some time to catch your breath. His fingers wrapped around his length, thumb, index and middle finger forming a ring sliding up and down the tip.

“Ready?” He asked.

You simply nodded and he let the small misbehaviour slip. He just wanted to sheath himself in the warm velvet of your cheeks, tongue and throat.

Once he bottomed out a new set of prints began forming on his pelvis, your hands coming for his hips, trying to slow him down as you began tearing up.

“Hands. Princess.” He roared.

You drew them back, shaking, trying to bob your head on him, wet droplets leaving your eyes and rolling down your cheeks.

And now the black eye pencil and mascara make sense. He wanted this from the very beginning.

Your hands pressed against his abs.

“Silent. Safeword. ____.” He ordered aggressively with a growl.

No. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to snap.

You made to remove your hands, but instead you cupped his balls with your right one.

He drew out. “That’s it. Brat.” He walked to the shower wall, where your bathrobe was hanging. He tugged at the tie, whipping it out of the small hooks in anger.

“Lay down.” He said, minaciously as he walked to the vanity, picking up the lipstick again.

You crawled to the carpet in the middle of the room and did as he told you. At least you wouldn’t be met with the cold of the tiles.

“Ungrateful brat.” He said, placing two fingers under your chin and straddling your chest with his legs. “I let you go out. I made you cum. I did your makeup. I offered you what you wanted. And you disrespected it, and disobeyed me.”

He caught your wrists and pinned them over your head. “But maybe I didn’t offer you what you wanted.” He said, wrapping the soft tie around your wrists, making sure it wasn’t too tight, even though he was furious. He took two deep breaths before securing the knot with a flowery bow. “Maybe this was what you wanted, uh? Answer me, Princess.” He encouraged you.

“I want what is best for you, sir.” You replied, eyes imploring as his cock laid on your chest.

“If you really did that, I would already be done fucking your mouth and I could be slamming my cock in your disobedient, tight, creamy cunt.” He said, applying more lipstick on your lips.

“You better make me cum quick, brat.” He spat the words at your face, his legs moving to bring his hips closer to your mouth. He lifted his ass and propped himself on one forearm, his hand holding his cock before offering it to your lips for small kisses. “Your non-verbal safeword is snapping your fingers. Any number of snaps will mean ‘stop immediately’. I will slide out and let you breathe, then I’ll ask you if you want to keep going.” He said, using his tip to draw your lips, just like a tube of lipstick. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” You replied.

“Make me proud, Princess.” He said, before accompanying his shaft into your mouth and looking down, into your eyes, before he started thrusting. The movement was identical to that he uses to fuck you nice and good on your bed, his hips usually slapping against the back of your thighs, while now they met the skin of your cheeks, the blurred mascara coming down in thicker rivultets, making your eyes redden.

You were definitely a mess.

Jimin tried to stay focused on your hands, feeling pleasure but ready to ignore it or your safety.

His thrusts became more intense, your throat producing thin, panicked whimpers before he felt your fingers snap, two, three times.

He pulled out.

You gasped for air, your eyes immediately connecting with the black stains on his pelvis. Your mascara. Or eyeliner.

And the red on his sex. All over it. Staining his balls too. It was undoubtedly your lipstick. No natural blushing could do that.

“Are you okay, ____?” He asked, and you could tell he was out of his dommy character.

“Yes.” You replied simply.

“I’m almost there, love. Can you take it, baby?” He asked, worried.

“I can. I want to.” You said, nodding and reassuring him.

“Then let’s go, Princess.” Back in the game.

He was back in your mouth in a second, and this time you were sure you wanted him to dissolve in pleasure like sugar in coffee.

You used all your tricks, swallowing once he settled in, pumping him with your cheeks until you saw him lift on his tiptoes, needing closer, giving up on the fine grip of his knees to plank on top of you and properly stroke inside you as his head rolled back in a very improper, very loud yoga position, making his mouth spill a divine moan while his orgasm spilled inside you.

He gave a small series of the tiniest thrusts before going perfectly still, his moaning stopping. It was smart of him to own a house rather than an apartment. Way more feasible in terms of… disturbing noises.

He slid out of you quickly once he realised you were there, perfectly still, trying to save your oxygen and prolong his bliss.

“Oh, Princess, angel.” He said, quickly undoing the ribbon, descending down your body, straddling your hips and touching your face. “Can you stand up?” He asked, trying to fix the smudged line around your mouth.

“Maybe.” You said, hesitant.

“Come on, let’s try.” He said, helping you up.

“I want more.” You said, kneeling on the carpet, flinching at the sensation.

“That flinch is a reply enough. And you’re messed up. And late for the meet up.”

You checked your wrist. “Lace is always twenty minutes late. Please, one last thing.” You begged, looking at his sex, half hard. “Please.”

“You want to fuck or make love?” He asked, already touching himself. He could do one more. And it was you. All he needed to do was bend you over and watch your tits move as he ground his hips against yours.

“Fuck me.” You said.

He grinned sadistically. “In front of the mirror. Bend over and spread.” He ordered drily.

You smirked back at him and turned into his doll, becoming exactly what he had asked of you, your panties soaked by now, the only protection your skirt.

You were a mess as you looked at yourself in the mirror. His name barely smeared on your breasts, your cheeks made of tens of dark, dried-up rivulets, your mouth a ridiculous attempt at a clown look.

He tugged the hem of your skirt up, exposing your ass before slipping his fingers into the see-through, fine net of your panties, his fingers digging until the fabric ripped offering your slick, honeyed entrance to his eyes.

He stood behind you, the reflection intoxicating as he showed you a wooden hairbrush.

It was that wooden hairbrush. It was the one he liked being used on himself when the roles reversed.

It was extremely fitting of him to want to use it right in that moment, on you.

“Ten. If you don’t cum on my cock all you’ll have is your fingers while I touch myself. Clear?”

“Yes, sir.” You replied.

“Ready. Count.” He said, rubbing the smooth wood against your lower glute.

The smack was harsh. Violent. The sound was scary but the pain was divine.

“One.” You called.

He slammed inside you, his thighs hot with boiling blood as he thrusted in harder before delivering another smash.

“Two!” You almost screamed.

“That’s right, doll.” He said, bending down, teasing your ear. “How pretty my name looks on those tits.” He said, slamming into you, a few more times, the various objects laying on the bathroom counter shaking as he pushed into you.

What you didn’t expect was for your phone to shake that hard.

The screen lit up.

Jimin noticed it immediately.

“Oh. It’s Vixen.” He said. “Maybe she’s worried about you.” He panted at your ear.

No. No, no, no. You thought.

“Come on, answer, Princess.” He said, vicious and petty as usually. “You love your friends so much.” He smacked your ass, just with his hand, almost playfully. “You wouldn’t want her to worry. Answer.” He ordered.

Your hand shook as it reached the phone. Jimin stilled inside you.

You picked up the call. “Hi.” You said.

“Hi bub, lovely to hear you. I might be late.” She said, straight to the point, her voice way higher than usual.

“Late?” You asked, trying to speak as little as possible.

Jimin started to move behind you.

You shook your head. NO. No, please, no.

“Forty minutes. Also, tell Lace. She’s not—” squeal “—answering.”

A dark voice behind her murmured something. “Only forty minutes?” He teased.

Namjoon, of course.

“I’m… busy?” You said, just as Jimin pulled out and smashed the hairbrush against your right asscheek. “Three.” You said under your breath.

“Didn’t catch that.” Jimin said teasingly.

You tried to cover the microphone. “Three. Sir, I said three.” You knew you were very likely putting yourself in trouble.

“Joon, why am I not getting spanked?” Vixen asked on the other end of the phone.

“Brat.” He snarled before his voice disappeared again.

“____, dearest. My boyfriend is threatening me with his ten inch cock. I can’t make that call, sweetie. Please, call her.”

“She will.” Jimin answered on your behalf.

“Thanks, Min. Enjoy.” A final squeal echoed down the line before it fell.

Another smash.

“Four, Sir.” You said, feeling Jimin stroke in while sneering, his lips parted as your wet, slippery walls welcomed him with a rich, squelching sound.

“Call Lace.” He ordered at your ear, sweet like a mermaid.

You shook your head in denial, but at the same time you searched for her contact on your phone. The sooner, the better. You would be done embarrassing yourself, and he would simply focus on torturing you until you reached your orgasm.

You pressed ‘call’ and Jimin’s ears tuned in to the sound of the phone, making sure that he began to truly fuck you only once Lace picked up.

The calling sound went on forever. “Let me… She’s not answering. Please.” You said, looking at Jimin’s reflection in the mirror.

“Wait.”

The line went silent for a second. “Vixen, for fuck’s sake, she’s sucking my cock, stop fucking calling.” Taehyung roared.

Jesus.

“It’s me, Princess?” You said, using the nickname that all the boys used. Sometimes it felt ridiculous. Like in that precise moment, when your boyfriend’s dick was buried inside you.

“Princess, what is— mh… Yes.” Taehyung stopped for a second. “Sorry. Lace is busy. Might be late.”

Jimin stretched to the mic. “I knew it.” He said, talking to Taehyung.

“Jimin, get out of my ears.” He joked with his friend. “Can I please… Twenty minutes. She’ll be there in twenty. Thirsty— Thirty at worst.” He spoke before a low rumble came from the line.

You blushed.

Jimin started pushing inside you, trying to get a moan out of you.

“Mh—Meet in forty. Vixen late. Bye.” You said before closing the call, Jimin using that precise moment to start hammering into you.

“Let’s make this quick. We need to make you presentable again, doll.” He said, picking up your knee and propping it up on the counter. You were so wide open for him, his hips smacking lewdly against your ass. To go the extra mile, he grabbed your waist with one forearm and used the hairbrush again.

“Five? Is it… Five?”

“Yes, Princess.” You weren’t sure he was saying yes to the counting or your inner walls squeezing him.

His cock touched your cervix repeatedly with a neat pattern, two fingers reaching your clit. “Quick.” He said.

You managed to push back only three times before your vision went blank, your upper body collapsing against the bathroom counter, your hand pressed against the mirror as you tried to find purchase to keep you upright, to no avail.

Jimin whimpered a few times before he went silent and collapsed on top of you.

His cock twitched twice inside you, weakly. He was probably drained.

“Jimin. Thirty-five minutes.” You called. He slipped out, immediately trying to clean you up.

“You shower, I get an outfit for you. Try to save your hair. Make up remover in the shower.” He said. “I’m driving you.” He said, helping you unglue yourself from the bathroom counter. “Do you need something special, love?” He asked, stopping you a second to hold your face and kiss your mouth, no matter how messy it was. “Aftercare, baby.”

“Just help me get ready.” You said, kissing him again. “I love you. You’re fantastic. The best.”

His ego exploded. “Love you too. Let’s make Stickerella ready for the ball.” He grinned before rushing to the closet.

——————————————

Forty minutes later, you, Lace and Vixen met in front of a classy, sleek restaurant.

“Did you pre-party, Vixen?” Lace asked as the three entered the place, Vixen leading the way to the table. Her legs were wobbly. Very.

“You’re so much fun.” She replied with a fake laugh. Namjoon’s habits were starting to rub off on her. Not the only stuff being rubbed, you thought mischievously.

“Seriously, did you swap your left shoe with your right one?” Lace asked as the tiny woman showed them the table for three. She took a seat on the closest chair, biting her lip as she lowered her bottom. Her eyes closed and she swallowed noticeably.

You smirked, right before sucking your own lips, your ass hurting with the leftovers of the spanking. “You are both two nasty bitches and I am so proud of you.” Lace said with a wide grin.

“Fix your neckline, you classy whore. I can see your boyfriend’s marks from here,” Vixen seethed, still smiling, no offense in her words. Still, she ran her tongue against the edge of her teeth, taking a calming breath as she fixed her position on the seat.

You chuckled at their scene before clearing your throat.

They both turned toward you, waiting for you to speak before realising that you simply had a sore throat. Yeah.

“Please. let’s order wine. You both sound like Marge’s sisters in The Simpsons.” She said, laughing and shaking her head.

“You’re just envious because your gag reflex sucks.” Lace said, clicking her tongue before shaking her head herself in faux disapproval.

You snorted and tried to cover your mouth.

“Glad I’m everyone’s laughing stock.” Vixen said, fixing her hair.

“Your neckline, slut.” Lace said, once more addressing Vixen with a whisper, acting with the posed mannerism of a lady from a Jane Austen novel.

Vixen laughed herself this time. “How did you get out?” Vixen asked her.

“Baby boy fell asleep like a puppy.” Lace said, a dreamy look on her face. “You?”

“Something along that line.” She replied. “What about you, sweetie?” She said turning towards you.

“Jimin brought me.” You said, smiling serenely.

“He’s such a sweetheart.” Vixen said, smiling with her whole face, her eyes turning into pure affection. Again, she looked like Namjoon.

You clicked your tongue. “Everyone’s a sweetheart when they’re getting fucked right.” You said quietly.

Both women laughed.

“I’m just sorry Yoongi’s girl couldn’t come.” Lace said, a bit sad.

“Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s fine. Coming. In… other ways.” Vixen — her neighbour — quipped.

“My god, we’re nymphos.” Lace said, covering her face with her hands.

You shrugged. “Again. That’s the magic.”

By the end of the night, the three of ended up happily tipsy, toasting to your boyfriends and ‘doing things right’.

#bangtan hq #jimin x reader #jimin smut #dom!jimin #park jimin x reader #jimin x reader smut #jimin fanfic #jimin x y/n

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babyflossy · 4 years

Text

eccedentesiast (n)

eccedentesiast (n) someone who hides pain behind a smile

pairing; bodyguard!haechan x reader

summary; haechan is nothing more than someone employed to keep you safe. at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. but why is it so hard to just see him as that?

genre/warnings; bodyguard au, angst (?), fluff, violence, a poisoning, half-edited, also i'm sorry that hyunjin is always my go to for another male lead lmao my skz bias is showing

word count; 7k baby

a/n; after nearly 3 months of writer’s block, i humbly offer you body guard haechan. i’m sorry if it sucks, i’m kinda rusty to get back into writing. any feedback is greatly appreciated!

it’s sunny outside, the golden morning rays of sunlight filtering through the blinds and onto your face. they warm the skin they manage to reach and you bask in the calmness, wrapped in soft bedsheets and silk bedclothes. if you squint into the light you can see the dust particles float around the beams, slowly swimming through around the window frame. the first noise you hear is a bird singing softly outside and a thought in the back of your mind reminds you it’s almost too peaceful. there must be a meeting going on downstairs, one you’re not trusted to appear at.

a knock on your door brings you back to reality and a sigh claws its way up your throat. your father’s personal assistant, sasha, pokes her head around the door and smiles slightly at your bed hair and the mismatched socks poking out the bottom of your duvet. “your father wants you downstairs in five minutes.”

“and what if i don’t?” in an attempt at appearing nonchalant you fix your gaze on the dying plant on your windowsill, refusing to meet her eyes.

“there’s someone you need to meet,” sasha says, piquing your interest and you give up on trying to defy your father’s wishes in favour of your curiosity. “so be down in five minutes, okay?”

the door clicks shut quietly and you check the time on your phone. 10:49am.

finally letting your sigh out and pushing your covers off your cold body, you reach for the first garment of clothing you spot. it’s a purple hoodie you stole from one of your exes and you pull it over your head with a strange sense on loneliness. how long had it been since you had contacted your college friends?

right before you leave the safe confines of your bedroom, a voice floats from the kitchen, one you don’t recognise. it strikes another wave of curiosity through you, this time accompanied by something akin to excitement. the hardwood floors of the hallway are slippery under your socks and you hurry down the stairs to the source of your interest.

whoever you had been expecting, none of them come close to the boy stood next to your dining table. a warm mop of hair sits on top of high cheekbones and tanned skin. the air leaves your lungs momentarily when his eyes meet yours, dark and calculating. you expect him to offer you a polite smile as most of your father’s business partners do, but his face remains in a stern mask. in would be unsettling if you had met in any other circumstances, you’re sure.

“y/n,” the voice of your father forces you to switch your gaze to him and you shoot him a questioning look. it holds no warmth, only looking for answers. “this is haechan,” the boy nods slightly in your direction at the mention of his name, “he’s your new bodyguard.”

you can’t help but let your eyebrows raise comically. that was probably the last thing you were expecting this morning. sure, there had been bodyguards in your past, but none of them stayed very long and you thought your parents had given up on finding one. “bodyguard?” there’s almost a mocking tone to your words and you like the way it makes your father sigh. “i thought you gave up after the last one.”

in the corner of your eyes, you see haechan’s brows quirk the slightest amount in what you think could be amusement. clearly, he has a lot to learn if he thinks he’ll last long.

“there’ve been some rather,” haechan focuses on your dad again as he starts speaking and your glad for the break from his eye contact. “unpleasant things being said about our family at the moment, and we think it’s best to keep an eye on you. so don’t do anything stupid.”

ah, you think, so that’s what he’s doing. this isn’t just to keep you safe, this is a way for your parents to monitor what you do and who you see, a glorified babysitter. that fact doesn’t sit well with you and you make a mental promise to make this as hard as possible for your new caretaker.

with a spark in your eyes you nod at your father and muster up the sweetest smile you can. “of course, father. anything for you.” the change in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed and he sends you a challenging glare which you choose to ignore, instead opting to smile at the taller boy and escape back up to your bedroom.

for the rest of the morning, haechan stands guard outside your bedroom door. as you had fled the thick atmosphere in the kitchen he'd followed behind with quick steps and he wasn't happy at being banished to the hallway. you weren't entirely sure what danger he thought would be lurking around your house at midday on a sunday, but he was on edge regardless.

finally free once again from the eyes of your steadily increasing number of babysitters, you let yourself fall onto your bed.

your own father doesn't trust you enough to live your life without the constant supervision of someone he decides is more credible than you. it hurts. it always does whenever he fails to conceal the way his job is more important than you are to him, his own daughter.

it hurts but you can't let it show. there's something powerful about appearing indifferent to things that are supposed to affect you, but maybe that's just founded on years of your parents missing important milestones. your first dance recital, your first win at a science fair, the first day of high school, the moment you found out about your college scholarship. none of it mattered to them, because nothing you ever did matters to them.

maybe this was an opportunity. an opportunity to get them to care about something more than their questionable business deals.

with a new mindset, you pull yourself away from the plush sheets and change into something other than a hoodie and fluffy socks.

"where are we going?" it's technically the first time you've actually heard haechan say anything to you, and his voice is surprisingly smooth. it's honey-like and velvety and way too appealing to listen to.

"shopping." it's stupid, but as you pass him you can't help but try and speed up, pathetically trying to outwalk him on your way to the garage. there's the distinctive sound of a hushed laugh behind you and the sound catches you off guard for a second. why do you like it so much?

a personal chauffeur drives you and haechan sat in the front seat leaving you alone in the back. the air is still and the silence is almost painful. you type away on your phone just to distract yourself from the fact you don't think you've ever been this quiet for this long before. haechan doesn't seem to notice the awkward tension in the car, however, and busies himself glaring at every car that passes.

for a sunday, the mall is busy and you find yourself stealthily dodging people who get in your way. haechan draws some stares as he follows close behind you, must less scared about bumping into people than you are. it's understandable– the all black get-up he's wearing makes him look a lot more menacing than he did in your family kitchen. along with his height and his inability to break eye contact first, it's quite a scary mix.

after a few minutes of walking in silence, you decide to at least try and make conversation. the one sentence he's said to you doesn't seem like enough for people set to spend all day every day together.

"how long have you been doing this?" the attempt is weak, but haechan seems surprised you've said anything to him. the focus of his stare switches to you and you suddenly feel small under it.

"long enough." before you can ask anything else, the surroundings have once again captured his attention and anything you say is drowned out by the indecipherable chatter around you. the scrutiny he puts everything around him under just from his gaze is admirable, and for a bodyguard, he certainly does tick all the boxes.

you're barely able to contain your sigh as you decide to take a different approach to gain his attention.

the first few shops you drag him into are innocent trips to buy clothes; there's a party you've been invited to in a few months and you have yet to find a suitable outfit. every attempt you make is ignored skillfully, every dress, skirt and pair of short shorts you hold up he pays no attention to.

when you've finally had enough, you spot a lingerie store with a wicked sense of delight.

"you can wait outside for this one," you tease with a smirk and an airy wave. at first, you're sure he's about to protest until he sees what shop you're leading him into and complies, stopping by the entrance to the store. as if to rub it in more, you taunt him once more. "unless you're curious what i wear underneath my clothes?" as you turn to head inside, you swear you see the faintest taint of pink over his tanned cheeks.

over the next few weeks, haechan seems to understand why none of your previous bodyguards have lasted long. it's also clear to him you'll do almost anything just to piss off your father, anything to get a reaction from him. in a way he feels sorry for you, having to go to such extremes for attention only to be shouted at by the one person who should care about you the most.

haechan has also learned to not mention your mother at all in any conversation where she's not present, as it without fail turns whatever mood you're in into a worse one. that's a whole other issue he doesn't want to rush into, however, and usually lets you do whatever you want.

after the first week, you'd finally started warming up to the idea of having him around you all the time. as much as you hated to admit, it was quite nice to have someone around whose primary role was to care about you.

it had been a long day, and it vaguely concerns haechan when you rush into your bedroom faster than usual, letting the door slam shut with a bang.

he doesn't hear anything else from you until after night has fallen and crying seeps into the hallway.

on instinct, it fills him with an anxious sort of unease and he knocks on your door. in the silence of the hallway, it's clear you're surprised to be disturbed as you stop sniffling for a second before opening the door slightly.

"are you okay?" you hear something in his voice that you haven't before; concern. every time haechan's shown worry or apprehension so far it's been in response to your surroundings, to the people around you. hearing such blatant worry for nothing other than your mental wellbeing only makes the tears fall faster and he doesn't know what to do.

all of his previous clients have been strictly physical protection, nothing similar to the struggles that are currently troubling you. with no clue what else to do, he slips in through the small crack in your door and envelopes his arms around you. the action is unexpected and you tense in surprise before melting into his embrace.

after a few minutes stood by the door, you let him pull you back to your bed, sitting against the headboard so you can rest your head in his lap. his fingers scrape gently through over your scalp and you can feel yourself being pulled into sleep.

a nagging thought in the back of your mind reminds you this is haechan, your bodyguard. nothing more, nothing less, just someone your father employed to keep you safe. in your fragile mental state, you decide to let yourself ignore that one night and let someone care for you.

in the morning, neither of mention the events that transpired the night before. you'd woken up to an empty bed, something you were eternally grateful for as you don't think you handle seeing him again so soon. the morning seems to drag on and you take your time getting ready as a distraction.

haechan had seen you in your most vulnerable state, and even though you hadn't told him the reason for your breakdown, you were sure he could probably guess. it seemed every day you and your father would fight about more insignificant things. it pained him to watch, but it wasn't his place to say anything.

when you finally emerge from your bedroom, haechan meets your eyes and offers you a fleeting smile before his features settle into their familiar glare.

life goes on, you suppose.

a rare type of excitement pumps through you as you stare at haechan through the mirror of your dressing table. recently he'd been spending more time sat in your bedroom than stood outside it. it was a nice change, and you felt less alone when you sit to do homework into the early hours of the morning.

currently, he flips through a book he'd picked off your desk and he frowns at it in confusion. "you understand this?" he mumbles as he stares at the words on the page.

with a laugh, you realise he's reading your intro to classical mechanics textbook and stand to take it from his hands. "that's up for debate."

he watches you push yourself onto your tiptoes to put it back on the top shelf and averts his gaze when the dress you're wearing rides up your thighs. it was ridiculous how you'd convinced him to take you to this stupid college party he was sure wouldn't end well, but here is he. "are you nearly ready? you said it starts at eight?"

you choke down another laugh as you stare at the clock, "haechan," you start with a smirk, "i have to be fashionably late. it's part of my brand."

"your what?"

"my brand," at his still confused expression, you turn back around from the mirror to face him again, "i have an image to keep up."

"whatever you say, princess." the new name catches you off guard and you feel your stomach flip. careful to keep your expression neutral, you stand and grab your bag, suddenly wanting to be anywhere other than a confined space with haechan.

a party, as it turns out, is exactly what you need.

the moment your feet cross over the doorframe, you can feel your worries slip away, replaced by the hum of the music. quickly, you spot some of your friends from college and make your way over, a cup already being handed to you. a few people stare as you walk in, something you're used to, but today they stare for longer than usual and it takes a moment to realise they're staring at haechan.

as always, he's dressed in all black, only he's swapped his combat boots and tactical jacket for black sneakers and hoodie. for a college party, he looks too well dressed, but it's appreciated by many as he walks through the room.

it's clear to you he's unused to this type of attention and you grab his hand to pull him to where you and your friends stand. he shoots you a look before, as usual, starting to survey the people around.

"is this your boyfriend?" a short girl from your business class asks, you think her name is lily–or maybe laila. haechan doesn't hear and you're grateful as you shake your head and explain he's your bodyguard. she raises her eyebrows and scans his profile again. the action irks something inside you that you desperately push down. "is he single then?"

the emotion that shoots through you is so obviously jealously and yet you try and remain nonchalant, laughing it off and acting like you didn't want her to be swallowed by the ground. haechan's there for you, not for anyone else, and you want her to know that.

after flitting around the room talking to different people you know, some who you meet for the first time, you can feel the drinks start to take their toll. whoever decided a bottomless bar was a good idea for a party like this was horrendously wrong, and your head spins whilst a boy talks to you about an apprenticeship he's been offered.

"of course, i don't need the money, that's not why i'm doing it." haechan doesn't fail to conceal his surprise, eyebrows raising as he eyes you over the rim of your glass. you send back a look that you hope says he's an asshole, but in your state, you can't be sure how well you've achieved it. "i'm doing it for the experience." when it's appropriate, you nod along to what he's saying but it obvious you don't care and he leaves for someone else soon after.

"what's his problem?" haechan murmurs into your ear. you have to suppress a shiver at the proximity and shrug as you don't trust your voice.

"hyunjin, hey!" you shout when you spot a familiar face in the see of people, shooting through throngs of people to the tall boy. somewhere along the way to the bar, haechan loses sight of you, craning his neck to try and find the direction you escaped to.

hyunjin’s smile is wide and you fail to notice the pleased sweep of his eyes over your exposed chest. as you speak, he slowly moves closer to you, his breath hitting your neck and making you squirm. suddenly the music seems louder, he seems closer and you try to escape his grip when his hands settle on your waist.

you try to move away but you feel your head spin harshly and you have to catch the edge of the bar to stop yourself falling into him.

"you drunk enough." a familiar hand reaches to snatch the martini out of your hand, a frown taking over his soft features.

despite the displeasure on his face, you’re grateful to see him. he recognises the relief in the sigh you let out, and eyes you with concern. just as he’s about to ask you what’s wrong, hyunjin turns back around from the bartender and seems shocks to see haechan so close to you. he clearly doesn’t realise the man beside you is your bodyguard and shoots him a glare. “we were just heading out, actually.” hyunjin grabs hold of your wrist and tugs you towards him and you can’t help but yelp at the sudden movement.

“get your hands off her,” haechan’s voice is stony and almost unrecognisable. you chance a glance to his face and you feel a lick of fear at the cold glare on his face. if you thought he looked intimidating staring at strangers, this overpowers it tenfold. something dangerous shines behind his eyes and he encases hyunjin’s wrist in his hand, tightening his hold until he lets go of you.

“hey, what’s your problem?” hyunjin’s voice is cocky and you pray he shuts up before he digs a deeper whole for himself. “she wants to come home with me.”

“you think she’s in any state to go home with you, huh?” at the words, hyunjin seems to realise what he’s said and tries to backtrack, failing miserably. “leave her alone, yeah? before i throw you out of here.”

it's silent as haechan helps you back to the car, his jaw set in a hard line. you want to say something to ease the tension but you don't want to upset him. it's not your fault, but the cold look on his face is engrained behind you eyelids and you feel a wave of fear flush through you. you shouldn't be scared of him, but he looked so ready to kill hyunjin that you can't help but feel a new sense of unease next to him.

"are you okay?" he crouches next to the passenger seat after buckling your seatbelt for you, features settling back into the warmth you're used to. no matter how hard you try to hide your expression, he can easily see the fear in your eyes and sighs, letting his head drop between his arms. "i'm sorry for scaring you," he rests a hand on your thigh that has you heart rate speeding up despite your thoughts less than five minutes ago. "but it's my job to protect you, okay?" you say nothing in response.

"can we get pizza?" the shops whiz past your eyes as haechan drives, the streetlights blurring together. he shoots you a sideways look before sighing and nodding, trying to ignore the way your victorious smile makes him feel.

"we'll get takeout, okay? you wait in the car."

you would've listened to him, you really would have, if you hadn't seen a small knife drop from his pocket and onto the pavement. if you were sober, you would've just told him when he returned to the car, but in your drunken state, that knife seemed like haechan's most prized possession.

you slip out of the car on shaky legs, noticing the empty streets with fleeting anxiety but bend down to pick the knife up. right above the hand grip a tiny l.h. is engraved and you smile slightly. just as you turn to make your way back to the car, something hard hits the back of your head and you yelp.

haechan stands in the empty pizza shop waiting for the workers to finish your order. he can still feel the remaining wisps of anger from his standoff with that boy you were talking to, but tries to ignore it for your sake. the posters on the wall catch his attention and he reads about the movies showing downtown, mentally noting the ones he knows you will eventually drag him to see.

the workers are rushing around behind the counter and he sighs, excited to get back into the warmth of the car and finally get back to the house.

the excitement drains out of him when he hears a scream. a scream that sounds identical to yours.

he's outside in a flash, eyes shooting every direction to see where the noise came from. the empty passenger seat of the car catches his eye and he swears loudly. reaching for his knife, he stills when he feels the pocket empty, instead grabbing the pistol from the inside of his jacket.

a muffled cry escapes an alley next to the shop and he sprints towards the sound, turning the corner and seeing you being pulled further into the darkness. for a fraction of a second, his eyes meet yours and the teary panic he sees is enough to have him seeing red. the man pulling you back hasn't noticed him yet and he uses this to his advantage, pulling his fist back and launching it at your attacker's face. it's masked and you're unable to see the damage, but a crack rings out.

you feel infinitely more sober than you did in the car and you try to pull yourself out of the man's arms but your head feels heavy and you sway dangerously. your eyes shut as you fall forwards, the man's arm around you stopping you from falling. the angle gives haechan the perfect shot and you scream as a bang rings out, echoing through your head painfully. the arms around you disappear and you lurch forwards until something catches you. you scream again and try and get away from whoever's holding you.

"hey, hey, it's me, it's me." haechan's voice is like music to your ears and you allow yourself to go limp in his grip, sobs starting to wrack your body. you can feel him carrying you back to the car, the pizza long forgotten. when he places you down in the passenger seat again, you don't want to let go of him and he has to pry your hands off him. "you're okay," he whispers as he holds you, rubbing a hand up and down your back soothing. "we're fine."

even if in that moment, everything feels the polar opposite of fine, something about the way he says it makes you want more than anything to believe him.

the walls of your bedroom muffle the voices from downstairs. haechan had carried you upstairs and settled you into your bed before whispering about a debriefing he had to attend. and now here you sit, alone and shaking, reliving the moments you had thought your life may have been over. there's still a throbbing to your head and you will your eyes to shut and for sleep to overtake you, but every time you try the memories bubble back up to the surface. it's exhausting, but you eventually come to terms with knowing you won't be able to sleep until haechan comes back.

the scariest thing is, every time you think about those last few moments before haechan turned up, you really thought you would never see him again. you thought you would never see the daylight again, and yet your thoughts weren't plagued with messages for your parents, or things you wished you had told your friends. no, the only person you thought of was haechan.

you know what that means, but you try and ignore the feeling growing in your chest, turning over and burrowing your head into your pillows.

for the next hour, you slip in and out of shallow sleep as you wait for the meeting to finish. you're somewhere between the two when you hear the door click and your bed dip beside you. haechan must've known you wouldn't be able to sleep and he sits against your headboard like the last time he was in your bed, pulling your head into his lap gently.

"how're you feeling?" the words are whispered into the air and you hate how much his voice calms you.

"my head hurts." haechan pities the pain in your voice and looks down at the awkward angle of you neck, an internal battle waging in his head.

a few long seconds later and he's slipping further into your bed, pulling you up so your head is resting in the crook of his neck. "c'mere." the position is much more comfortable, and you sigh in contentment, trying to ignore the smell of his cologne that's slowly overtaking your senses.

you bask in the silence for a few minutes, trying to fall back asleep before realising you need to tel him what's plaguing your mind. in the safety of his neck, you mumble to try and conserve the peace in the room. "y'know, i really thought i was gonna die back there–"

"stop." haechan reaches one of his arms around your shoulders and pulls you further into him. the act is so gentle, as if you're made of glass and he mumbles his words into the top of your head. "you don't need to do this."

"but i want you to know," with a sense of desperation, you pull away from his embrace to meet his eyes. they're sad, and you know you probably look like a complete wreck right now, but you can't bring yourself to care. the only thing you can focus on is how much you want him to know his importance in your life. "i didn't think of my parents. i thought of y–"

"stop, really. you'll regret doing this." but you can't imagine regretting telling him anything. you've only known him for a few months, and yet you've never held trust in someone like this before.

sick of watching him avoid your gaze, you bury your face back into his neck and smile at the shiver that rolls down his spine when you speak against his skin. "i never liked them. they never cared about anything i did. i only ever wanted to make them proud, but they wouldn't even listen to me."

haechan's in dangerous territory, and he knows it. he can't sit here and insult his employers, but he's seen the way they treat you. as if you've never done anything worthwhile, but they were never there to see your achievements. he battles his thoughts for a few moments, trying to think of the best response. "they do care for you, they just can't show it well." it's weak, even he can tell, but he needs to say something. he wants nothing more than to shelter you from them, take you away from this house and show you what it's like to have someone be proud of you, to care for you wholeheartedly. but he can't, it's stupid to even entertain that thought.

"you care more than they do," the tone you speak with is bitter, and you pull away once again to look up at him. somewhere in the deep brown of his eyes is an emotion you think is something akin to love, but you think you might be imagining it. haechan's paid to be here, you need to remember. "but then i guess you're paid to."

"hey–" this is exactly where he didn't want the conversation to go, because he can't tell you what he really thinks whilst still in the confines of your house, not where your parents could hear every word.

"i'm not wrong, though, am i? you're only here because they're paying you–"

"i would've left if i didn't care."

you sigh and let yourself fall back into his embrace. "i'm gonna pretend like i believe you, just for tonight." no more words are exchanged, but he leans down to press a delicate kiss to the exposed skin on your forehead. the act is so tender, so familiar, you feel tears line your eyes. it's stupid, to cry at being held like this, but in a desolate horizon, haechan is your beaming spark of hope.

another month floats by and you and haechan continue your relationship than slips so easily between professional and something more than. it leaves you confused a lot of the time, but you try and ignore it, instead deciding to focus on the present.

the present right now leaves you stood in front of a fancy restaurant, a booking for you and one of you childhood friends ready and waiting. "i'll be by the door, scream if you need me, okay?" you chuckle at the serious tone of haechan's voice before hurrying over to your table where jennie sits waiting.

the girl stands when you near her, a wide smile taking over her features as she pulls you into a hug "how have you been? i haven't seen you in years!"

over the first course of food, you catch up about each other's lives, chatting about the various things you’ve been involved in recently. after what jennie deems an appropriate amount of time, she shifts her attention to the boy stood behind you.

"is that your boyfriend." her curious eyes scan over haechan who, as promised, stands by the door, staring at his phone. the sight makes you smile as you realise he's probably playing candy crush or some other stupid game to pass the time.

"no," you chuckle, although you would love more than anything to say yes, to be able to sit and claim him as yours, and no one else's. but you can't lie to jennie, as much as you want to. "it's just haechan, my bodyguard." just haechan sounds wrong coming from your lips.

"bodyguard? your dad's still got a lot of enemies, huh?" jennie shoots you a concerned frown which you try and laugh off. out of all the friends you've ever had, jennie's the only one with a somewhat similar upbringing; moving around a lot, feeling as if your parents are absent for more than half of your childhood. you had bonded over your situations in middle school and had kept in touch even when she moved to new zealand for sixth grade.

just as she's telling you about her new job at a fashion company, you blurt out the question bothering you."does the lemonade taste weird to you?" it's metallic almost on your tongue and it catches you off guard.

"no, i think it's just a bit tangy."

"oh, yeah probably" you laugh airily, but a cold wave on unease washes through you. it's unclear what's causing your anxiety, and you're suddenly confused why you're even on edge. on instinct, you look for haechan and seeing him still leaning on the wall by the door gives you a small sense of calm.

"are you sure? you look a bit–" jennie's words are drowned out in your mind by the wheezing of your throat. it's uncomfortable, as if someone is squeezing your lungs, trapping the air out, and preventing you from taking a full breath in.

"yeah, do you think we could step outside for a sec? i think i need some fresh air." the chair scrapes under you but you ignore it and make a beeline for the side door, clean air the only thought on your mind.

"of course, are you sure you're okay." outside, you fail to find the relief you're looking for and try to swallow down the metallic taste. you find it difficult to, however, and you concentrate on the movement as jennie crouches in front of you. you hadn't even realised you'd sat down.

unable to resist any longer, you give up and speak up in a hoarse voice. "can you go get haechan?" jennie nods and disappears for a minute. in the quiet, the only thing you can hear is your laboured breathing and the distant chatter from inside. it sounds like you're underwater, the voices seem so far away, as if you're sinking.

"what's wrong?" haechan's before you in an instant, hands gripping the sides of your face and eyes scanning your body for any obvious injuries. you try to speak but nothing comes out and you feel your legs give way underneath you, sliding down the wall onto the ground.

"i don't know–" the voice that speaks doesn't sound like you're own. it's hoarse and breathless and you can feel yourself losing the strength to speak again.

"she said the drink tasted weird." haechan's blood runs cold at jennie's words. you don't fail to notice the panic in his eyes and it does nothing to calm your now racing heartbeat. you feel a chill come over you and when you reach your hands up to find haechan's they shake violently.

despite the alarm on his face, his voice is calm and authoritative and it reminds you of the first time you had ever heard him speak. you wish fleetingly to go back to that moment, to be able to meet him for the first time again. "call an ambulance."

"what?" jennie's voice is close by but muffled by your own heartbeat that pounds in your ears.

"call an ambulance and tell them she's been poisoned." you feel his arms gently set you onto your side before his words register in your head. “try and breathe for me, princess.” the action is futile and you try so hard to do as he says but your head feels heavier with every feeble motion of your lungs.

“you’re gonna be fine, baby.” it's the last thing you hear before your hearing gives up on you. haechan's hands finally find you own, skin hot against yours, and you try to squeeze them but you can't get your fingers to move. you feel like a statue, watching the scene in front of play out with no strength to do anything.

black spots start toying at the edge of your vision and you feel the ground beneath your shoulder. you're on your side, you think. but you can't remember moving anymore.

haechan's hands remain in yours and you try to take a breath in, feeling your lungs expand weakly before the last little bit of energy drains out of you. the last thing you see is haechan's face, an expression of terror on his face as he shakes your shoulders. his mouth is moving but you can't hear anything he's saying, instead letting the darkness overcome your senses.

it's calming, almost, the warm embrace of sleep. you feel like you haven't slept in years, maybe never. with an empty feeling settling inside you and haechan’s face burning behind your eyelids, you allow yourself to slip into the blackness.

the first thing you're aware of is a warmth over your arm. and then a beeping. and then painfully bright light shining behind your eyelids. the smell of harsh disinfectant fills your nose and you feel starchy sheets underneath your bare legs. an attempt to breathe in leaves you coughing painfully as you realise your lungs feel like they’re made of sandpaper.

the sound awakens haechan from his light sleep, eyes shooting open to find you squinting down at him. everything is too bright and you try to bring a hand up to cover them before finding it covered in wires. you hand is pushed back down and a cup of water is brought to your lips. it feels heavenly against your dry throat and you try to drink more before it's pulled out of your reach.

"hey, hey, slow down," the familiar tone is a welcome change and you find your mind coming up blank as to where you are. haechan smiles down at you, a soft glimmer to his eyes, one you haven't seen in what feels like so long. "the nurse said you shouldn't drink too much yet."

"what happened?" your voice is scratchy and painful to listen to. the boy before you smiles sadly and sits on the edge of the bed after pushing the barrier down. you've managed to work out you're in a hospital, but you're still unable to place the reason behind your visit.

"you were poisoned." the words trigger something in your brain and your memories come flooding back. the lemonade, the confusion, the darkness. it's the second time you've been close to death, and the second time haechan's been the last thought on your mind. you promise yourself you won't let him slip away, not this time.

"i remember," his fingers interlace with yours, thumb rubbing along the back of your hand. "i thought i was gonna die."

"you nearly did," a new voice enters the room and you turn to see a tall woman in a white coat. "and you would have done if it wasn't for this man's quick thinking." she waves a clipboard in haechan's direction and he looks away, embarrassed to be in the spotlight. "the paramedics knew exactly what they were turning up to, cut a lot of time for treatment.” the words make haechan blush.

the doctor stays for a while longer, explaining your treatment plan and adjusting your medications. she gives you some stronger painkillers and says you should be fine to leave after another night of observation.

as soon as you're alone again, you turn to haechan, only to find he's already staring at you. "you know what i'm gonna say." the words are whispered and you let him move up the bed to lie beside you.

"just say it, get it over with." unlike last time, his voice doesn't sound as hopeless and you wonder if he prepared himself for this conversation. it was inevitable, to be fair.

"you were my last thought." haechan's cologne is strong in your nose as you drop your head onto his shoulder. "i wasn't scared about dying, haechan, i was scared about never seeing you again." the tears fill your eyes and you do nothing to stop them falling onto haechan's hoodie.

his shoulder moves when he sighs, an arm wrapping around your shoulders and your taken back to the last time you were sat like this. "i love you, i need you to know that, okay?" it's all you can hope to hear, but you know he hasn't stopped talking yet. "but i don't know if we can do this."

"why can't we just leave?" your voice is pleading and it pulls at haechan's heartstrings. he wants to badly to give in, but the future would be too uncertain.

"your parents would hunt us down."

"then let's flee the country, i don't care–"

"you can't just leave your parents–"

"where are they?" when you had woken up, you hadn't failed to notice their lack of presence and it didn't hurt as much as it should have anymore. a guilt look passes behind haechan's eyes and he doesn't even need to say it for you to understand.

"on a business trip."

"let's just go, haechan. they don't want us here anymore."

the desperate glimmer in your eyes is enough to convince haechan, who knows he would have agreed to it anyway. he would always agree with you. "if you want to. i'll do anything for you princess."

when you turn to face him, the proximity between your faces is significantly less than what you expected and you find your breath hitching in your throat. it catches him off guard as well and you watch his eyes flicker down to your lips and back up to your eyes quickly. you can’t help but smirk as you lean in, resting your free hand on his chest to push yourself up to meet his lips.

the kiss is warm and comforting and everything you need in that moment. he slips a hand around your waist and pulls you closer to him, using his other one to cup your jaw and tilt your head up. the angle allows you to deepen the kiss and haechan sighs into it. a few seconds pass and your lungs are burning for oxygen.

you break away first, resting your forehead against his and drinking in as much air as you can before leaning back into him. right before your lips meet again, you hear the heart rate monitor speed up and your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

“why is your heart beating so fast?” haechan teases with a laugh.

“shut up.” you huff out before closing the distance one again and meeting his lips with a new sense of hope filling you.

a/n; thank you so much for reading!! it means a lot to me!!

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

Pleaseee do anything to do with Izuku and his huge amounts of strength. Like we know hes powerful asf I just want to hear about how this man will get a bit impatient and he uses 1% of his power and you get blown across the room- you finally realize that Izuku is holding back, and he could snap your neck if he really wanted to.

He’s too strong for his own good, isn’t he? And it’d only get worse when he’s a Pro, with the skill set proper hero and none of the self-restraint, especially when it comes to keeping his Darling in line. His methods aren’t exactly encouraging, but if he’s lucky, you’ll be too busy nursing a dozen broken bones to act out.

Title: Strength.

TW: Graphic Violence, Mentions of Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Touching, and Delusional Mindsets.

In his defense, Izuku had never claimed to be a gentle lover.

He wasn’t violent, either, not when you first got together, not when he was still a stuttering, blushing mess who could barely hold your hand without having to hide his face in your shoulder or make up an excuse to let go a little too early. For weeks, every touch was tentative, every kiss preluded by a flurry of nervous questions. By the time he finally calmed down and swallowed his nerves, you’d begun to wonder how he managed to fight villains without asking if they were ‘alright’ every fight minutes. He’d been afraid of hurting you, back then… or, you guess he’d never really been afraid. He’d been aware that he could, and that’d made him anxious, it’d made him hesitant. But, hesitance was a thing that wore off, with experience, and Izuku was good at adjusting. He was adaptive, and you were too relieved your boyfriend could finally put his arm around your waist to notice just how tight his grip could be, from time to time.

That was your mistake, you guess. You should’ve been more attentive.

You should’ve started paying attention when he started leaving bruises.

But, it was too late to regret that now. Izuku wasn’t your boyfriend, anymore, he was your captor, and you weren’t his playful, fragile partner, you were his stubborn, breakable captive, with too much will of your own and not nearly enough love for him. He hadn’t really accepted it, not yet, but that didn’t matter. It hadn’t since the moment he came home, exhausted and irritated and touchy, and since you’d been as reluctant to let him near you as you always were. Every window was locked, the front door serving as the host to half a dozen different deadbolts, but running was second-nature, by now, as was doing anything and everything you could to keep his fingertips from digging into your sides, to keep that monster away from you, even you knew it’d be useless, in the end.

But, there were things you could to do draw out the process, and that was why you were currently in a half-empty cabinet, your knees pulled into your chest and your back pressed against something hard and uneven and jagged. Hiding wasn’t preferable, but you only had so many options, and it was so, so much better than the alternative.

Izuku was never happy with your small shows of rebellion, but today, he seemed more disgruntled than he usually was. Even from across the apartment, you could hear him, his incoherent mumbling filling what little empty space there might’ve been, making it hard to think, making it hard to breathe, making it impossible not to wince when a door slammed or one of his steps was heavier than it should’ve been. You could hear him looking for you, but his search was half-hearted, at best, and he seemed to be caught between the urge to find you quickly, and the temptation to huff and mutter and stomp until you came out on your own, your head bowed and an apology already playing on your tongue. You didn’t know if he liked to feel strong, but you knew he loved it when you felt weak. Weak enough to let him act like your faultless, innocent, valiant hero, anyway.

“Baby,” He called out, finally choosing to be a little more proactive with his attempts to threaten you into submission. “C’mon, (Y/n), you know I didn’t mean to scare you. I was frustrated, I didn’t want to grab you, but you were trying to get away from me, and it’s been such a long day, and…” He trailed off, a heavy sigh following a moment of silence. “You know I’d never hurt you, right? Not unless you forced my hand. I spend all day fighting people who want me dead, I wouldn’t have a reason to make you hate me, too.”

He wouldn’t have a reason to. He doesn’t want to. Not he won’t, not he couldn’t, just that if he did, you’d be the one to blame. He could go one for hours, like that, trying to convince you that this was for your own good, that if there was a better solution, he’d stop at nothing to find it, but you were still the one being kept prisoner in your own home while he was free to do as he pleased, in the outside world. And, if you tried to reason with him, if you tried to explain that you could keep yourself safe from more than just domestic trivialities and boredom, it’d be his hand around your throat, and your lungs would be the ones left to scream. You couldn’t say he wanted to, but he certainly didn’t need to. He’d just rather listen to you gasping for air than speaking your mind, apparently.

“I know you can hear me, angel.” His voice was colder, now, more collected but no less hostile than it had been. You could hear his footsteps getting closer, growing louder as he moved onto the tiled floor of the kitchen. Reflexively, you curled into yourself, doing your best to limit what little sound your breathing created, but if he knew where you were hiding, he didn’t feel the need to put you out of your misery quickly, only going on in that smooth, empathetic tone he was so fond of. “There’s really no reason to be this stubborn. I love you, and you love me, and if you’d just see things from my perspective, you’d know why having someone warm and welcoming to come home to is so important to me.”

There was a slight pause. You stopped breathing completely as he took a step towards your chosen sanctuary.

“Or, maybe you wouldn’t,” He admitted. “You haven’t tried very hard to understand me, not since we moved in together.” Since he kidnapped you. Since you woke up, handcuffed to someone else’s bed while Izuku tried to explain why this was necessary. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you don’t love me at all, anymore.”

Another step. Something came to rest on the counter above you with a quiet thud.

“Honestly, I’m starting to think you’re too much of a brat to know what’s good for you.”

With that, he brought his fist down on the countertop, and you hardly had time to think before you were flinching back, elbow colliding with the cabinet wall and making the smallest, hollowest noise. So minor and so quiet that, for a moment, you thought Izuku might've missed it.

But, he hadn’t.

Izuku was always so observant, when it came to you.

In the space between one second and another, the cabinet door was thrown open, something hot and crushing latching on to your ankle, dragging you out of your hiding place and out onto the freezing, unforgiving floor, putting out on display for your oh-so-dedicated assailant. Izuku’s expression was neutral, devoid of everything but a narrowed gaze and thin, pursed lips, but his vice-grip was more than enough to express his anger, so tight, so oppressive, it felt like your bones might cave in underneath it, collapse into little more than dust and fragments and helplessness. It was awful. It was painful. Already, tears were building up in the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision, making the man above you into little more than a muddled image of tan skin dark eyes and ugly, ugly delusions.

And then, he squeezed.

His free hand came up, his palm pressing against your mouth and stifling your scream, but that did little to soften to blow, to stop something in your ankle from cracking as pressure turned into force, and force turned into fire, racing from your heel to your knee as you tried to kick, tried to writhe, tried to do anything that might lessen the pain. It was pointless. Izuku’s grip was stead-fast, keeping you grounded and forcing you to reach out, instead, your fingers soon tangled in his hair as you pulled at his scalp and pushed at his chest, an effort that only made you feel childish, that only made you feel weak. Yelling wasn’t an option, not when it was all you could do to bite your sobs into whimpers and bury your face in his shirt as you began to cry in earnest, pain and fear turning into something dark and desperate, even if his touch had never done anything to comfort you.

Still, Izuku tried. He didn’t pull you up, didn’t move to help you, but he wrapped an arm around your midriff as you lost the will to struggle and rubbed soft, delicate circles into your side, a gesture you didn’t doubt there’d be bruises for, tomorrow. “I’m sorry, I got carried away,” He started, the words whispered against the crook of your neck. “It’s just…”

There was a light, almost inaudible chuckle.

You wondered if you’d be able to claw his eyes out before he broke your hands.

“Accidents happen, right?”

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wolf-and-bard · 3 years

Text

The Geraskier dark academia AU of my dreams (because writing these up keeps me sane; TLDR at the bottom because this escalated):

-Jaskier is so ready for college. Like, the readiest he's ever been for anything in his life. He couldn't wait to get out of his stuffy family home, away from his narrow-minded hometown, he is ready. He signs up for a Liberal Arts major, moves into a dorm, drinks his brains away during the first week. He makes an archnemesis, he makes friends, he live-documents the whole affair on Snapchat for his friend Triss who lives across the country, but is always with him in spirit. Life is good.

-Jaskier doesn't think twice when his roommate Zoltan invites him to come along to a party at the Kaer Morhen fraternity house because hello? Orientation week was last month, high time he goes to an actual frat party full of guys like wardrobes that eminate sexual self-assuredness and hopefully some sexual flexibility as well. He puts on his most revealing shirt and too tight jeans and joins Zoltan. The fraternity house is old, red-brick with sandstone pillars and iron-wrought gates which would seem rusty if not for the ivy that curls around them. It's chock-full with people of every kind of major and age, most of them drunk beyond reason by the time Jaskier and Zoltan arrive. Zoltan disappears in a tangle of rugby-players and leaves Jaskier to his own devices. He befriends a group of Archeology majors, their leader being a cute blond called Filavandrel, and they share a bottle of red wine, round and round. He meets his archnemesis, the one he spent all orientation week bickering about music with, Valdo or some nonsense, and they do tequila shots. It’s a nice party and Jaskier has the time of his life until he returns from the bathroom to find a god of a guy standing in the hallway.

-"Oh hello," Jaskier mutters under his breath. Before, his evening was aimless, he let the wave of the vibe take him wherever, let the alcohol blur the world around him. But now, he has an objective. And that objective stands all by his lonesome, scowling down the hallway. Man, does he brood well. Jaskier usually goes for people that are easy to read if some casual fun is what he has in mind -and it's not out of his mind just yet - but this guy intrigues him; there is more to him than simple dudebro-ness. He has shock-grey hair and startling amber eyes and seems to cast the longest shadow. Jaskier wants to ride him. Jaskier also wants to serenade him on a starlit wooden bridge and collect all the guy's deepest secrets and desires to keep under his pillow and draw divine inspiration from. Okay, that may be the Tequila shots talking. He scurries over to the bar, downs another two, then approaches the guy.

-"Hi," Jaskier says as he sidles up to him. The guy half-heartedly raises his beer in greeting. Taciturn, dark, dramatic. Jaskier decides to go for it. "I absolutely adore the way you just stand here and brood." (Jaskier will only learn much much later that he accidentally used some weird Kaer Morhen frat code and set off a chain of events that changed his life forever). "Lamb," the guy calls out instead of answering, something that makes Jaskier think he's so far gone that he's actively hallucinating. But no, seconds later a guy with equally lush red hair and equally thick arms appears from the crowd. He wears a scowl which has Jaskier's throat tighten. "What is it, Wolf?" Wolf, huh? "Go collect Goat and Kitty-Cat. I found him." And Wolf-Guy grabs Jaskier by the back of the neck and hauls him through a door, down some stairs - is that marble? are those torches? GARGOYLES? - and into pitch blackness. Jaskier squeals. This is what he imagined when he dreamt of college. Well not exactly this, but close enough.

-They bind him with silk scarfs and put a blindfold over his eyes which, okay. Jaskier knows he shouldn't find this as sexy as he does, but he can't help it. He has no sense of self-preservation and this will just be the best of fuel for the first assignment in his screenwriting class. "Oh, this is fun," he murmurs when someone tugs off his boots and someone else smears a fatty paste onto his lips. It smells like... okay it smells lot like his uncle Matthew's pigsty. Weirdly disgusting. "Who are you guys anyway?"

-They don't speak at all that night, don't take off the blind-fold until way later. All night, Jaskier can hear them rustling around him, chanting in some language he doesn't understand. They give him several drinks, most of which honestly taste like asphalt, but make his insides go fuzzy. When the blindfold comes off eventually, Jaskier finds himself on the front-seat of a pick up truck, Wolf guy behind the wheel. They are parked behind the frat house. "Look, I don't think you're a suitable candidate. The guys all said they want to keep you, but my friend recognized you from the freshman introduction party and we usually only inaugurate sophomores." Jaskier blinks. He has absolutely no idea what's going in anymore. His friend Triss is probably worried sick because he hasn't checked in all evening. The faint taste of burned rubber clings to his lips and all Jaskier can think is: Fuck, is this man hot. "Go out with me," he blurts. "Go out with me, I'll show you how suitable I am."

-Over the course of a month's worth of introductions, preparation and inauguration traditions (which, among other things, have him dropped butt-naked in the middle of the forest, requiring him to find his way back to campus; have him spend more time learning long-dead languages than he is comfortbale with; have him getting thoroughly intimate with Eskel's (Goat) helper syndrome, Lambert (Lamb) and Aiden's (Kitty-Cat) ostentatiously loud fucking, Coen's (Hawk) frequent absences and Geralt's (Wolf) quiet, but passionate idealism) Jaskier learns the truth at the core of Kaer Morhen. It is more than a fraternity, it is a brotherhood of students that spend their free time in rituals to protect the college, its city, likely even the whole state from supernatural creatures that threaten to cross over into the world. The existence of these is no surprise to Jaskier who's come out of an adolescence of escapism and coping through fiction and song, but the fact that there are handsome tough guys who work to banish him is too much of a dream to be true. It is true. Unofficially, the call themselves Witchers. They catch wraiths in cricles of runes, they re-direct necrophages into Kaer Morhen's basement and slay them with blades of silver. They brew potions and cast minor spells to get rid of mutated insectoids. And Jaskier is to be one of them. They call him Lark.

-His first ritual goes bat-shit wrong. Jaskier is reasonably sure he did everything right, but the wraith doesn't stay contained after they bound it . "Fuck," Geralt growns after, pressing a cloth to the gaping wound in Jaskier's shoulder while they wait for Eskel to whip out the first aid kit. Jaskier shudders, can taste blood. "There shouldn't be fireflies here, right?" - "Ah, nope," Lambert says. He keeps snapping his fingers before Jaskier's eyes. "Hey, Lark, stay with us, okay?" - "He's fine," Aiden says, inspecting his nails. "If anything, it's Geralt we should be worried about. He's about to have a full blown panic attack." Geralt grunts and holds Jaskier closer.

-"Does this mean I can ask Priscilla to let me copy her homework," Jaskier asks later. He's in bed, bundled up in one of Kaer Morhen's bedrooms. Portraits of alumni line the wall and a hearth crackles away. Geralt sits next to the bed, a pretense-book on his lap. His eyes bore into Jaskier, wide, haunted. "Jask," he breathes out shakily. - "Hello, big guy. How are we doing?" - "Better now that you're awake. We... we had to call in Vesemir. He will want to talk to you." - "Alright, okay," Jaskier says. He knows who Vesemir is of course, but he has no idea what exactly his job entails or what having to talk to him means. "Geralt?" - "Hmm?" - "What did I do wrong?" - "Nothing. You were uncharacteristically precise... but it turns out I was right all along. You're not suited for this kind of work." - "Because I'm not big and buff like all of you?" Jaskier asks, pouting. Geralt has the audacity to laugh. But he also takes Jaskier's hands and kisses his knuckles and huh? What? Jaskier's brain short-circuits. Fuck when did he fall so hard for Geralt? "No, Jask, you're perfect. I mean, uh, ah, perfectly annoying." That bastard. "The wraith went crazy because it turns out you're an amplifier. That means supernatural creatures are pulled to you and can draw from you to manifest easier in our world. You wouldn't have noticed this unless you ever passed by a spot where the spheres overlap significantly. As it is, your participation in the ritual poses a danger." - "TLDR: I'm fired?" - "That's for Vesemir to decide... truth be told, I don't want you to go. But I can't stand the thought of you being in danger. Because of me, this." - "Go out with me, Geralt. Please. One coffee," Jaskier practically begs. Yes, his shoulder is minced meat and he feels exhausted from the blood loss but Geralt has never been this open and honest with him. "...fine."

-Jaskier heals up under the diligent care of his friends. Priscilla is allowed over too, practically drags him though his classes with tutoring and copies of her homework and sugar-coated emails to his various professors. Triss video-calls him three times a day. Eskel's med school expertise leaves Jaskier with the most neat scar he is ever going to get out of this, Lambert and Aiden hang out to play Gwent with him, a strange card game they invented and custom-painted, Coën even pops in to bring Jaskier his guitar and a venti Matcha Tea Latte even though the nearest Starbucks is miles away. Geralt... Geralt is there almost all the way. He sleeps in the chair at first, then - on Jaskier's stern insistence - in the bed with him, though careful to keep his distance. He helps Jaskier into the shower, something so strangely intimate without feeling innately sexual, he takes him out on slow walks. Geralt doesn't talk much, but Jaskier knows he feels responsible. It's fine. Sure. Absolutely fine. Jaskier is so far gone for this man by the time he moves back into his own dorm that he considers getting injured again just to have Geralt by his side. They never do go out for coffee.

-Vesemir doesn't so much invite Jaskier as have him called out of his choir session by a girl about Jaskier's age. She has the same hair color as Geralt and Jaskier thinks he's seen her around Kaer Morhen's bigger parties. "Hello, Jaskier," she says sweetly, but one look at her tells Jaskier she's deadlier than any of the frat boys. If his drunk memory serves correctly she also does a phenomenal keg stand. "Ves sends me to collect you." Which has Jaskier even more impressed with her. None of the boys dare to call him anything but Vesemir or Sir, even when he's not around. - "I've been expecting this," Jaskier says, shouldering his bag. The girl laughs and grabs his arm to guide him out of the building and across campus. - "You are cute," she says. "Geralt said so, but I thought that was just because he's so infatuated with you. I'm Ciri, by the way, his younger sister." Infatuated, huh? Jaskier has just enough brainspace left to save her name. Ciri. They will have to become very good friends. Infatuated.

-It turns out, Vesemir isn't half as scary as the boys made him out to be. He's closer to sixty than fifty, has a stern face, but a kindly voice and the first thing he does after dismissing Ciri with a meaningful glance is offer Jaskier a glass of whiskey. Jaskier sneaks a photograph of the bottle's label when Vesemir stands at the window and glances down at the campus, hands clasped behind his back. Triss will never believe this. It's the sort of alcohol that exists only in myth, at least to college students. "So, Mr. Pankratz. I'm afraid apologies are in order." - "Please, I prefer Jaskier." - "I know," Vesemir says and turns. "I would kindly ask you to delete that picture, my office and its contents fall under the terms of the non-disclosure agreement you signed when entering our brotherhood." Jaskier gulps heavily, the whiskey suddenly sour on his tongue. But he's quick to paste over a smile. He's gotten this far with the mysterious Kaer Morhen fraternity, he can pull all the way through. He deletes the picture. "Good," Vesemir says. "Now down to business." Vesemir gives him two options. Jaskier can consult a local magical artisan and have his memories of Kaer Morhen's true purpose removed. It is an easy procedure, won't cost him anything. Except for his new-found friends and the love he feels for Geralt. Except for the only place he's ever truly felt at home. Jaskier chooses the latter option which is to become the fraternity's chronicler.

-After that, things are supposed to calm down and they do, for a bit. Geralt still dodges any and all attempts Jaskier makes at flirting even though it's evident his resolve is thinning out. Jaskier observes and documents the rituals, begins to collect old notebooks. He's planning to go above and beyond his job and compile a comprehensive history of Kaer Morhen and its members before he's graduated. He may not be able to partake in the rituals or help the guys protect this city from monsters, but he can play his part. Leave behind a legacy.

-Between that and his normal studies, hanging out with his theater group, meeting Triss on alternate weekends and throwing epic frat parties, all of Jaskier's time is consumed. There are several instances in which Geralt and him almost manage to have their coffee, but then they have Eskel on the phone because Lambert and Aiden managed to give themselves poisoning over a simple Endrega job, or Priscilla needs an emergency stand-in for her weekly performances at a local bar, or Jaskier is simply too tired and falls into bed, sleeping over Zoltan's aggressive snoring. Jaskier doesn't mind so much. They catch glimpses of intimacy, Geralt's hand on the small of his back as he guides him downstairs for another ritual, a good night kiss on the cheeks once it's done, a spot of quiet homework-doing in Kaer Morhen's common room together, their legs pressed close under the table. One of these days, Jaskier will find the courage to close the last bridge between them. He just wants to wait until Geralt seems absolutely comfortable with it.

-All is as well as can be until Vesemir comes up with an idea. Because more and more creatures have been getting through and they are unable to hold off all, he wants to capture one of them, an Archgriffin, to bind in their world and act as guardian against lesser creatures. "You're mad," Aiden says. "That's fucking brilliant." - "It's a good idea," Eskel and Coën agree. Lambert keeps exchanging grim glances with Geralt because they both know what this means. They will have to use Jaskier to lure the beast. Which is why they both protest the idea heavily and Geralt gets into a fight with Vesemir. Jaskier is not there for it, but Aiden and Lambert tell him later, once he's back from theatre rehearsal. He watches them fight over it too and then it's only him and Lambert. Jaskier steals one of Zoltan's bottles of spirits and they get stupidly drunk, wandering around campus all night until Eskel collects them and tucks them into bed at Kaer Morhen. "I will not stand to lose you," Lambert slurs, arm dragged over Jaskier's chest. "You're like, almost my best friend. Plus, Wolf would be devastated." - "Aiden seems to think it'll be fine," Jaskier says, snuggling up to Lambert. - "Yeah, fuck him." They fall asleep like that and the first thing Geralt does when he finds them is kick Lambert all the way down the stairs.

-In the end, Geralt and Lambert are outvoted, not that they can stop Vesemir. Geralt is more silent than usual throughout prep and Jaskier can't seem to cheer him up. He knows his life is likely on the line, but he wants to help so badly. These guys are his family after all. If he can make their lives a little easier by doing this... well, he wants to. He needs to. Being in Kaer Morhen is the first time he seems to have a purpose other than writing angsty teenage songs. Eskel keeps checking up on him. Vesemir writes preliminary excuses for all Jaskier's exams which leave him with only A's, something Priscilla does not appreciate in the slightest. Lambert and Aiden fight and fight and won't stop fighting over this whole affair until Jaskier sits them down and makes them talk. Geralt... remains quiet. Jaskier can tell he doesn't sleep. Can tell he rarely eats. He decides now is as good a time as ever.

-It's the night before and the others have all returned to their dorms, but Jaskier stayed in Kaer Morhen under the pretext of Zoltan having his girlfriend over, and Geralt rarely ever goes home. He has a flat off campus, but Jaskier suspects it's drab and lonely. He gets it. Kaer Morhen has soft fluffly beds and fire places and wards and books. Currently, it has the two of them, bundled up in one of the upstairs rooms. They share an armchair before a low fire, not an unusual sight for them, not anymore. And still, Geralt pretends they're just friends. It's ridiculous. "You know I'll be fine, right?" Jaskier says. He has his head tucked under Geralt's chin and has been humming show tunes under his breath for the last half hour, something that usually puts Geralt right to sleep. Not so now. "I can't know that," Geralt replies. He lifts Jaskier's hand which he's been holding and traces the veins on the back of it with his thumb. "You've no idea how dangerous the ritual is. Even more so with you being an amplifier." - "So protect me." - "I will. I promise, I will." - "Geralt, when are you going to finally give in?" Jaskier sighs and pulls back a little. Geralt stares at him, a little cross-eyed and Jaskier gives a shaky laugh. "I'm going to kiss you now. Pull back if you don't want to, but allow it and I'll never let you go." Geralt allows it, kisses back. It's the first night they indulge in a love that has been growing for almost a year and it's gloriously sweet, blazing, beautiful. It leaves Jaskier with faith that, even if things go sideways, Geralt will get them both out of it alive.

-The ritual goes well thanks to the Witchers' meticulous preparations, the dozen or so warding spells they put on Jaskier and Geralt's reflexes that save him from a swipe of the Griffin's claw. They bind the creature to one of the basement holding cells and celebrate with excessive amoutns of vodka and cake. "All is well that ends well, huh?" Jaskier asks from where he sits on Geralt's lap. Strong arms hold him and his chest is full of nightingales that flutter and sing. He watches Eskel drunkenly dance-offing with Coen in a corner, watches Lambert and Aiden make out in another. Vesemir took off, but Ciri is there, lounging next to them on the couch, nose buried in her phone. "I will never put you through such danger again," Geralt grunts, his nose buried in Jaskier's hair. "Of course, love." Jaskier relaxes into the embrace. All is well, though it is not nearly the end of this story.

-TLDR: Kaer Morhen is an occultist fraternity that keeps supernatural beings away from campus. Jaskier, unable to participate in the actual rituals due to a genetic predisposition, becomes their chronicler. Geralt worries a lot. Jaskier tries for the longest time to get him to go on a coffee date or something. Lambert and Aiden are a disaster couple. Eskel keeps them all together, literally and figuratively. Ciri is the one who got all the brain cells.

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