#maybe this wip will go nowhere
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Forever a supporter/truther of the Dad-Son angst inherent within every Haytham & Connor interaction I write:

#i just like angst okay 😭#maybe this wip will go nowhere#but who knows#i’m enjoying writing this fic for now#haytham kenway#connor kenway#ratonhnhaké:ton#assassin’s creed 3#assassin's creed#ac3#🪶 ; ac#🪷 ; wish.txt
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On hiatus for an indefinite moment.
#CW: Rant#Things are not looking well art and writing wise#And I can't seem to grasp anything well anymore seeing how much I've downgraded in everything#Art block and Writing block hit well but I know I'm nowhere near 'getting better at it'#It's just a bullshit reason for me to keep myself away from everyone#I can't even think of anything creative anymore unlike how I did back then#I'll be lurking but maybe not responding to anything#And I'll probably lurk somewhere else#I plan on going through my drafts and try to see if I can do better with my old WIPs and Ideas#I hope I can feel the same spark I used to feel last year(s)#I'd probably only be away for a week (please be so because I wanna write too) so heyyyyyyyyy fingers crossed#(sobs) I haven't even written anything proper for the celebration#WHAT IS THIS AHAHHAHA SOME SORT OF GRADUATION FAREWELL SPEECH?#Ta-ta~#nb: everyone is bored of my saggy ass writing#no one likes it anymore#I have to WRITE BETTER
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I need... to produce... aekazu........
#seeing as my long wips are going nowhere maybe i should dabble in producing a lot of short content#as some sort of warmup#or monthly challenge#i need to reclaim my otp#ales of alex#alex impacted
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OH. LAST NIGHT. reading yj 1998 again and guess what i stumbled upon

spider-man in universe is?!? spider-fighter????? it’s just. really funny to me
#i’m ignoring that and choosing to go with spider-man comics do exist in their universe#but it just came out of nowhere#I GUESS it would be really funny to make spider-man as spider-fighter. in arañita wip. and have it be revealed that it’s actually spider-man#but i don’t know. maybe Too Meta#but yeah LOL#moss talks comics
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#terrified to count how many technically WIPs I have (that could be posted seperate)#maybe 5?#and it's one of those just horrible focus moments of kinda knowing it's going to be for still the audience of me#so both doesn't matter if it's a weird out of nowhere one shot or the hell fic starts getting posted#the whole person reading it will not change if in scrivner vs ao3
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haven't drawn in a hot minute due to work. i've done a couple cat sketches but i've missed my bastard man most of all <3 wip of him post pleiades recapture once he returns to the future.
#khan a.#wip#he ingo and akari make it back to their (khan and ingo's) rightful time#khan makes himself scarce bc he doesn't want 1. his (bad) image everywhere with ingo (who is in his mind good) and akari#(who has enough going on with the paparazzi trying to dig up her history and why she came out of nowhere with ingo)#and 2. he doesn't think they'll want him around now that they're back where they're supposed to be bc.... well. he's khan.#he likes to fight and kill and maybe they could tolerate that in hisui but back in unova? in civilation?#where every day ISN'T a fight for survival?#he doesn't think he'll be wanted or needed and unfortunately (for him) at this point#he loves them enough to be like 'aight. i'm out.' except he DIDN'T FUCKING ASK#and then he gets abducted by the lab that fucked him up the first time and it takes WAY TOO LONG for ingo and akari to realize he's gone#bc they've noticed he's been vanishing more and more on them. but when he stops answering his phone completely they're like 'hm. sus.'#and then they do find him (eventually) but only after pleiades has re-fucked with him and added a couple new fun modifications#(black sclera. black hands and legs. claws instead of hands. mayhaps digitigrade legs.)#they both feel incredibly guilty over not realizing he had been taken against his will sooner.#working on this to tongues and teeth by the crane wives bc. khan vibes.
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hi. i would like to request seungcheol (obviously). all i request is enemies-to-lovers. you may do with this what you wish. i leave it up to you to decide exactly how you will ruin my life 😌
tysm for the request my beloved !! he is so enemies to lovers coded i had TEWWW many thoughts (and started three separate wips oops), but here we are. i hope u enjoy this !! can't wait to get the collab fics out of the way so i can torture u further with baseball dk. i picked dodgers hat!cheol just for u. ♡
— we need to talk
pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader summary: sometimes the only way to win the game is to not play, but sometimes it's not a game at all—sometimes it's four years of emotional build-up with nowhere left to hide. genre: enemies (kinda) w benefits to lovers; frat/university au; smut, angst?, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. warnings: frat boys. gendered language and insults. swearing. mentions of drugs & drug use (vernon is literally a drug dealer 🤷🏻♀️) as well as alcohol. possessive, jealous seungcheol who is extremely down bad and kind of an asshole and would be toxic af irl but is fine in fanfiction probably. this is maybe more "people who used to fuck and started disliking each other along the way bc they can't figure out their feelings" to lovers than enemies. there are very slight, very meaningless mingyu x reader undertones here. jeonghan is a bastard. feelings you think are unrequited but alas! this got softer than i intended oops. smut warnings: seungcheol truly is a man driven to the brink of madness bc of pussy idk what to say. kissing. hair pulling. mentions of masturbation. the dynamics shift in this one a lot, but to be overly cautious i will say dom!cheol and slightly dom!reader undertones that are not implicitly stated or defined. seungcheol uses the term "whore" once, sorry. oral sex (f. receiving). pussy slapping. unprotected sex. if i missed any pls lmk. wordcount: 8k. no i do not know what a drabble is, leave me alone. author's note: title from the song of the same name by waterparks but this was actually brought to you by "i'll never stop" by nsync bc it's their best song and fit the vibes perfectly. anyway, i still do not love writing smut but i am insane over this man so whatever, we persevere. everyone go shower mj in lots of love bc she's the best and deserves it. also everyone say thank u @the-boy-meets-evil for looking over this for me. i did not look at this again after she beta'd it so any mistakes are of my own stupidity. <3
Seungcheol is incensed.
What in the fuck are you thinking, showing up here? Ignoring him, walking by him with nothing more than a brush to the elbow and that sultry, electric gaze? A pair of painted-on jeans and a sheer top?
Who the fuck had invited you?
He looks around the room, gaze heavy under his furrowed brow. Bass thumps in his ears, the music so loud he can feel it in his chest. Still, his feet stay planted on the floor, already sticky with spilled alcohol and god knows what else. He needs to find Vernon—just needs something to get through this very unexpected (and very unpleasant) surprise, take the edge off.
But he can’t see through the sea of people. They’re everywhere, occupying every inch of available space in the house, but he just needs a glimpse of that mop of cornflower blue hair. If he could just—
Instead, he sees a streak of white-blond in his peripheral vision. “Soonyoung!” he calls, grabbing the man by the arm. “Hey, have you seen Vernon?”
Soonyoung stares up at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes, his breath already stinking of alcohol as he shrugs and says, “Dunno, hyung. Think he’s upstairs.”
Fingers still wrapped around his bicep, Seungcheol heaves a sigh. “Go find Jeonghan. He’s on babysitting duty and you’re already fucked.”
“I’m fine,” Soonyoung argues, slurred words giving him away immediately.
Seungcheol scoffs. “Bro, you can barely stand and you reek of shitty vodka. Go drink some water.”
As he sends Soonyoung away, he can feel eyes boring into him, tension wound tight in the center of his back that refuses to dissipate no matter how many times he rolls his shoulders. He turns slowly, already knowing exactly what he’ll find, but knowing does little to stop the hitch of breath as he takes you in.
And he hates it. Fuck, he hates the effect you have on him more than anything.
Hates that he’s still pining after you. Hates that all you have to do is look at him and he’s putty in your hands. Hates that you’re the first person he looks for in a room, the last person on his mind before he falls asleep. Hates you, hates that all of this is unreciprocated, because if Choi Seungcheol is anything, it’s proud. He’s rich, he’s good-looking, he’s pre-law, and the president of this fraternity, for fuck’s sake—he should not be hung up on a girl.
But he’d been doomed from the beginning. Ever since you’d been assigned to him as a challenge to overcome, an impossible task to conquer, he’d been helplessly, pathetically smitten with you.
And fuck if you didn’t know it, too.
So, it’s a game now. A lifetime’s worth of pining for Seungcheol all because his frat was misogynistic and refused to keep up with the times. They’d nodded in your direction and laughed at the confusion on his face, the knot between his brows. Seungcheol couldn’t figure out why his initiation was to fuck a girl, one his brothers wouldn’t even address by name, but when he’d approached you at a party and you’d immediately told him to go fuck himself, he’d figured it out pretty quick.
Call it determination, call it a stubborn streak that refused to quit, but the two of you soon came to a reluctant agreement: you would let Seungcheol lie to his frat, figuring he was attractive enough that people thinking you’d slept together wouldn’t be complete social suicide, and he’d owe you a favor you’d keep in your back pocket for as long as it took to cash in.
Which hadn’t taken long. The stress of finals that first year had gotten to all of you, and it wasn’t long before you were at his door looking for his drug-dealing roommate and a quick fuck.
That was the second time Seungcheol had been doomed to hopeless pining, because once he had you, he knew it’d be impossible to let you go.
Short of outright saying the words, he’d all but told you as much during some alcohol-induced brain shortage junior year. And, in turn, you’d all but laughed in his face.
Right.
Of course.
That was to be expected.
So, you’d continued your… well, whatever this is: quick fucks when both of you were bored or lonely or horny, usually under the influence of something illegal; a mutually tense but beneficial relationship for each of you, because you had been Seungcheol’s initiation and the initiation itself awarded him connections and opportunities. You got a back-up plan. A safe body and warm bed to retreat to when the need arose—one who clearly wanted it to be something more, but was, all things considered, fine with the current arrangement. Didn’t pressure you.
But, as was also to be expected, it was never going to be that simple when feelings got involved. When he started feeling slighted. When he wanted you so bad he ached with it sometimes and it was beneath you to care. Which is why he really, really needs to find Vernon. If he’s going to endure an entire party with you, he’s not going to do it sober.
He takes the steps two at a time, feet stumbling onto the landing as soon as he reaches it. Vernon’s door is the third on the left, and he can hear a separate, distinct bass line from the one booming downstairs that hums louder the closer he gets.
And Vernon knows. Of course he does, because he’s yanking his door open before Seungcheol has even raised a hand to knock, the stench of weed seeping out into the hallway, and all he needs is a quick look at Seungcheol before he pulls the door open wider and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America,” as if he’s speaking into a microphone. When Seungcheol doesn’t react, he awkwardly tacks on, “Hi, hyung. I’m assuming she’s here.”
Seungcheol nods, dumbly, and stands as awkwardly in the center of the room as someone who’s about to ask their roommate for drugs tends to be. “Yeah.” Shoves his hands in the pockets of his overpriced jeans so Vernon can’t see the sheen of sweat.
“You looking for somethin’ specific?” he asks, rifling through the top drawer of a tall dresser. “Like, is this an I’m about to fuck her the rest of the night visit or an I need something to help me forget she doesn’t actually like me visit?”
The words come like a reflex. “Fuck you,” he seethes. Vernon’s not wrong, per se, but he didn’t have to go and just… say it like that.
Vernon just shrugs, one side of his worn-out collar slipping down his shoulder as he does so, and Seungcheol can’t tell if he’s actually dressed for the party or not. “Gonna guess it’s the second one, then.”
Seungcheol scoffs. “Well, it’s not,” he insists, knowing damn well he should let it go, that he’s just digging himself a bigger hole, but the truth sits in the pit of his stomach like lead.
And, really, he knows he just needs to accept it. That little strand of hope hasn’t brought him anything but more pain—allowed him to delude himself into thinking it could be something more, something tangible—and it’s time to let it go.
You don’t want more.
You don’t want the label and the relationship.
You don’t want him.
He knows this, but it still tastes sour in his mouth. Still tastes like the chill of autumn when you’d first showed up at his door all that time ago. Tastes like all the blunts you’ve shared and the liquor from all the parties you’d snuck away in the middle of. Tastes like the sharp notes of your perfume, the ones that’d coat his tongue when he’d kiss down your neck—the same notes that stain his bedsheets.
Mostly, it’s the pitying look Vernon’s giving him that hurts the most. He’s above pity. Doesn’t need it, especially not from Vernon Chwe, but it hurts all the same to be on the receiving end of it.
“Give me whatever you’ve got.”
Vernon’s face quickly morphs into surprised concern. “Uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I mean, I’ve got some pretty heavy shit here.”
Heat flares in his belly. The pity was bad enough—now he wants to be patronizing? “Then give me whatever the fuck you think I need,” he snaps. “I don’t care. I don’t have time for this shit.”
“Well, you definitely need to chill,” Vernon mumbles. “You want some dabs?”
“No. Something…” The word feels thick in his mouth. Stronger implies that Seungcheol does heavy drugs, and that’s not true. “Else,” he finally finishes.
Vernon sighs as he continues rifling through the drawer. “Your dad would fucking kill me if I gave you my real heavy shit, so…” He pauses, eyebrows raising in triumph as he finds what he was looking for: a small baggie filled halfway with some nondescript powder. “You want a bump?”
Maybe he should be ashamed at how quickly he agrees, at the urgency and greed with which he grabs the baggie from Vernon’s fingers, but he just needs something. Needs the distraction, the brain fog. He shoves it in his back pocket next to his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
Vernon wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Consider that one a freebie. No offense, but you’re a real piece of shit when you’re like this.”
The implication only pisses him off more. Seungcheol is loaded—he can afford to pay his drug dealer, thank you very much—but he’s not like anything. “I’m sorry?”
True to his nature, Vernon barely shrugs. “I’ll put it on your tab, hyung,” he says in a way that implies he’s not at all going to do that and is only saying so to get the fraternity president off his back.
Jeonghan (23:12) Better come get your girl. Kim Mingyu’s dick looks like it’s halfway up her ass by now. Jeonghan (23:12) Uh oh! I think I just saw a testicle
Seungcheol stares down at his phone, hands trembling in anger. Of course it’s Mingyu. That pathetic loser has been taking up residence on the subs bench ever since you’d made out with him months ago in an admittedly successful attempt at payback. Seungcheol had hooked up with some downgrade at a party one time and you’d gone and made out with his friend. It was hardly a fair trade.
Seungcheol (23:14) Good for Mingyu, he can deal with her then Seungcheol (23:14) I’m busy Jeonghan (23:14) Doing what? Jerking off in the upstairs bathroom again? Jeonghan (23:15) Do you know what size condom he wears btw? Looks like I might need to fetch him one if you don’t want to take care of another man’s baby Jeonghan (23:16) Although, to be fair, you might want to sit this one out. He has way better bone structure than you. Might be a blessing in disguise Seungcheol (23:16) Fuck you Jeonghan (23:16) Better be nice to me, Choi Seungcheolie~ that might be the only fuck you get tonight
Seungcheol needs better friends. He needs a lot of things, really, but number one on his to-do list is to never let Jeonghan be on babysitting duty ever again. Somehow he’d forgotten how obnoxious Yoon Jeonghan is when he isn’t stoned and half-asleep on a couch somewhere.
For now, he just stomps down the hallway; locks himself in his room and doesn’t bother to turn on the light. He’s not going to be here long. Just enough time to do this line, change his t-shirt, and come up with a game plan, because he’s not going to let Mingyu even entertain the thought of being able to have you but he also can’t appear desperate. Not just to you, but to everyone else. Choi Seungcheol is not clingy, especially not over a girl.
Especially especially over a girl who doesn’t even want him like that.
But the longer he sits in the dark, the more trouble he has finding his resolve. Can’t bring himself to dig that baggie out of his pocket. Can’t drag his t-shirt over his head. Can’t bring himself to think about anything other than Mingyu’s hands all over you, and fuck, does that image drive him insane.
Does he touch you like Seungcheol does?
Does he coax those same jagged whimpers from your mouth like Seungcheol does?
Does his semi-hard cock feel as good pressed against you?
God, he’s so fucked. Utterly and completely fucked. And he wonders if this would be as bad if he’d just kept his mouth shut, took that secret to his grave instead of fooling himself into thinking it could be more. If it wouldn’t have devolved into… this. You’d always told him not to get attached, that sex was just sex and there was no need to ruin a good thing. But Seungcheol is a selfish man, always has been, and what if? is a dangerous question.
Jeonghan (23:36) Wow, you’re a fucking pussy. Stop hiding in your room like a little bitch. Seungcheol (23:36) Fuck off
He can’t go down there. Not because he’s a coward, but because he’s barely tethered to his sanity as it is. Something about you brings him out of his mind, makes him toss whatever good judgment he has left to the wind. Seungcheol is far too impulsive when it comes to you, reckless in ways that have all twenty years of his social training weeping in a corner; have alarm bells ringing in his brain. So, no, he can’t go downstairs right now because he knows he’ll do something stupid. Stick not only his foot but his entire lower body in it. He should’ve listened, yet here he is, dick pulled halfway out of his jeans because the thought of you alone gets him hard but his pride won’t let him jerk off to the image of anyone touching you that’s not him.
Forget whatever Jeonghan had called him. He’s a fucking fool. A moonstruck, delusional fool who’d tricked himself into thinking he could swim when he can barely tread water.
You (23:41) Something wrong?
Oh, here we fucking go, he thinks. Because this is Seungcheol’s game—one he’d perfected years ago, the one where he’s coy and chilly, never too eager, never committed. Just a little bit of a tease. Barely enough to keep them on the hook, a little needy; still enough to keep them coming back. But you’d taken one look at him all those years ago and had him pegged immediately. Figured out his game and learned the rules, used them against him. Now you watch him flounder with a smile on your face.
Seungcheol (23:42) Never knew you were so needy baby. First you show up uninvited and now youre missing me?
But just because there’s now a player two doesn’t mean he’s doomed to lose. He knows how you look when you’re on your knees for him. Knows how you sound when you’re begging to cum and stuttering out his name like you’re singing hymns. Knows how you look with your eyes rolled back after he’s fucked you dumb. Kim Mingyu doesn’t know shit.
Seungcheol knows he’s the only one fortunate enough to experience you like this.
And god does it kill him.
You (23:44) Don’t act stupid
A pleased exhale of laughter, an equally-smug smirk. Yeah, this is still Seungcheol’s game, the crown still sitting atop his head. You can let Mingyu grind his dick against you all you want, but Seungcheol is still the one you’re seeking out, pouting at the fact he hasn’t come to find you yet.
You (23:44) Mingyu invited me
Oh, you’re good—know just which buttons to press and how much pressure to use. Whatever smug expression Seungcheol had been wearing slides off his face immediately, tongue pressing into his cheek.
Seungcheol (23:46) And yet youre looking for me? You (23:47) Don’t have to look for you to know you’re upstairs sulking in your room because Jeonghan tattled on me like a fucking five year old Seungcheol (23:49) Maybe you should come up here then Seungcheol (23:49) Away from prying eyes
You don’t reply immediately. It’s just long enough for Seungcheol’s brain to conjure up something indecent—the way you’ll straddle him, the way his cock will feel pressed against the apex of your thighs; the goosebumps that’ll raise on his arms when you work your tongue along his neck, that spot near his collarbone you know he likes. His cock throbs against the confines of his jeans when he thinks about the devastated look on Mingyu’s face when you make up some excuse to get away from him, to traipse up the stairs and fall into Seungcheol’s bed, when he realizes he’s not going to have you.
You (23:56) It’d be pretty rude to leave my date, don’t you think? You (23:57) If you want me so bad, come down here and get me yourself
Seungcheol doesn’t play games; doesn’t compete because he has no competition. He’s always been given whatever he wants on a silver platter, no questions asked, so he’s wholly unprepared for this turn of events. What he knows he should do (respond to your text and tell you to fuck off, that you know where he is should you stop being a brat and change your mind) is not what he does (tucks his dick back in his jeans, finally throws on a clean t-shirt, and takes his time descending the stairs so he doesn’t look too eager), because logical thought gets tossed out the window entirely wherever you’re concerned.
“Ah, if it isn’t our resident pissbaby making his grand re-entrance.”
Seungcheol clenches his jaw for the nth time and glares. “Fuck off, Jeonghan.”
The man in question laughs—the annoying raspy one that grates on Seungcheol’s nerves—and hands over a cup of something brown and pungent. “Well, judging from your attitude, and the fact you’re barely hiding that boner you’ve got, you clearly didn’t spend your time away jerking off. What finally got you down here, the promise of cheap whiskey I nicked off some freshman or the fact that your girlfriend’s about two seconds from getting a public indecency charge courtesy of Kim Mingyu?”
Well. Jeonghan may be an asshole but he’s not wrong. Even through the crowd of people and the haze of whatever’s in his cup and a contact high, Seungcheol spots you immediately. Your back is pressed against Mingyu’s chest, his fingers gripping tight at your waist as you roll your hips in time with his. Whatever manufactured filth he’s whispering to you draws a smile, causes you to reach up and tug sharply at his hair. Fuck, Seungcheol can almost hear Mingyu’s moan from across the room, and his blood quickly heats to a rapid boil.
Another chuckle from the demon beside him. “Stop fucking laughing,” Seungcheol snaps, still unable to take his eyes off of you. “Fuck this. I’m going back upstairs. Make sure everyone’s out of here by three. I’m not paying for another noise citation.”
Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “I’m absolutely not going to do that.” He shoves a bottle of something in Seungcheol’s hand. “Take this and think of me when you’re crying yourself to sleep because Mingyu stole guaranteed pussy right out of your hands.”
“Why do you do this?” Seungcheol asks, shoving at Jeonghan’s shoulder roughly. “You never know when to fucking quit.”
Another streak of white-blond. “Hey, no fighting!” Soonyoung slurs, trying his best to push Seungcheol to the other side of the kitchen with his useless, limp arms.
This attracts the attention of Joshua, who struts into the room looking straight out of Fashion Week, much like he always does. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. “Aw, are Mom and Dad fighting again?” he asks, his lips tugged into a smirk. He ignores Seungcheol’s scowl as he fixes himself a drink. “You know Mingyu only does it to get a reaction out of you,” Joshua adds, quieter this time, as if he’s telling Seungcheol a secret only meant for the two of them to share.
“What’s her excuse, then?” Seungcheol fires back, because even if he doesn’t like it, Joshua’s right. This is exactly the kind of behavior he’d expect from resident campus whore Kim Mingyu, but he never expected you to go along with it.
Joshua cocks an eyebrow. “She doesn’t need an excuse, Cheol. She’s not your girl.”
Even though it’s a truth he already knows, it somehow hurts worse being spoken in plaintext, a hushed conversation in a crowded kitchen. Being let down gently. Seungcheol knows he needs to make a decision. He needs to let you go and start moving on with his life; can’t be having these quasi-meltdowns during frat parties anymore. Can’t be possessive and spiteful. You don’t want him. Everyone knows you don’t want him, so that’s all there is to it. Maybe you’ll want Mingyu and he can finally wash his hands of this forever, scrape the jealousy off his tongue.
He steels himself. Rolls his shoulders back, cracks his neck. Navigates the crowd in the living room until he reaches you and your so-called date. Grabs you by the elbow—gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt but firm enough to send a message—and says the two of you need to talk. Upstairs. Now. Mingyu just smiles like he knew this was coming and presses a pointless, wasted kiss just below your ear. Seungcheol tells him to fuck off, too, and Mingyu grins wider, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
As he guides you to his room, he doesn’t think about the way your hand fits in his. Doesn’t think about how this is going to be the last time he has you. Doesn’t think about who’ll have you after. Doesn’t bother to wonder if you’ve finally changed your mind like he had all those other times he’d walked this same familiar path with you in tow. Because it’s the last time. Whatever happens once it’s over is out of his control.
Perhaps that’s what it’d always been about. Seungcheol has always been spoiled and selfish and so terribly, terribly desperate to prove he’s more than his family name and family money. So, yeah, he’d wanted the control; wanted what was never his for the taking. You’d always been the opposite—his perfect little counterpart. Always so pliant and careless and free: everything Seungcheol tried so hard to be but couldn’t, and that’s where the switch flipped.
Someone like you isn’t meant to be controlled.
What he used to want so badly now tastes rancid in his mouth.
The door locks behind you. Seungcheol doesn’t meet your eye as he says, “You got what you wanted. Are you done being a fucking brat?” It’s not a tone he usually takes. Usually he’s dirty, a little possessive, willing to let you set the pace. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. “I asked you a question.”
“Seungcheol—”
He clicks his tongue, stalks closer until you’re nearly in his grasp. Your eyes close instinctively as if you’re expecting his mouth on yours. Instead, he threads his long fingers in your hair and pulls. “What’s so hard about answering a simple yes or no question? Did you really want Mingyu’s dick so bad you’ve gone dumb all of a sudden?”
You gasp. “No.”
“No what?” Seungcheol chides. “No, you’re not done being a brat? Or no, you weren’t just downstairs acting desperate and pathetic for mediocre cock?” He runs his thumb across the seam of your lips, follows their movements as you speak.
“I wasn’t—”
A low, mocking chuckle. “You were, baby.” Sounds condescending; speaks to you like you’re a stupid child. He’s so close to you now. Can smell the tang of your skin, the sticky notes of your perfume. Feels your breath fan against his own sweat-slick skin. Still avoids your gaze, because as domineering as he appears, he knows he can unravel just as quickly. “Take your clothes off. This is the last time I’m gonna fuck you and I’m not going to ask twice.”
Now you truly look caught off-guard. “What?” Still he ignores you, expensive silver rings clinking into a dish on his dresser one by one, expensive watch following. “What do you mean the last time?”
Deft fingers play at the buttons on his shirt. Not silk, but just as expensive. “Shit. You’re really testing my patience, you know.” You’re still standing at the edge of his bed, staring dumbly as if he’s just going to start spilling all his secrets, give you some kind of explanation. “I believe I told you to strip.”
Unlike Seungcheol, your fingers tremble as they work at buttons and zippers and hemlines, push down denim and remove heels. It’s clear you’re trying to work out what he’s playing at—if this is some punishment for fucking around with Mingyu or if he really means it—but you’re not going to risk asking. Things between the two of you are already tense as it is. Seungcheol has never been wound this tight, never been so ready to snap.
“That’s it,” he praises once you’re left in nothing but a skimpy underwear set you know he likes. “Look at you. Fucking gorgeous. I bet that’s why you think you can get away with embarrassing me, huh?” He grabs your chin, forces you to meet his gaze for the first time since he’d dragged you up here. “Get on your knees. I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”
It’s not an unfamiliar sight—as it is, you usually leave Seungcheol’s room with bruised knees on a good night—but it settles differently in his gut this time. Because he’d dared a glance at you once and knows he can’t do it again, so he watches the top of your head as you fumble with his belt buckle and looks away whenever he thinks you might risk a glance upwards. Finds some point on the wall to focus on. Hisses through his teeth when you pull his cock from his briefs, your hands cold against his flushed skin.
All he wants to do is kiss you. Draw this out. Give you a memorable last time, maybe mark you up a little. He really wants to savor the feeling of your tongue on his cock, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’ll never be enveloped in that wet heat again. He’s never going to feel your mouth working him over, feel you humming around his length because he knows you love the weight of it, you love wrenching away that little bit of control, turning him into a mess.
But he’s not going to dwell. He’s going to thumb at the hinge of your jaw, force it open just wide enough for his cock to fit inside. Then he’s going to fist your hair into a makeshift ponytail, grip it tight, use it to guide your mouth until there’s only an inch of space between you. He’s going to stare down at you, silently revel in how fucked out you look already even though he hasn’t touched you. He’s going to watch the way your fingers dig into your thighs because they can’t touch him. Then he’s going to say—
“Beg me. Beg me to let you suck my cock.”
There’s a flicker of hesitation. Seungcheol doesn’t talk to you like this. This is not the kind of dynamic the two of you have, and Seungcheol finds himself wondering if things would be different if it was. If he’d never started going so easy on you. Would you want him then? Or would you have left a long time ago?
He’s half-expecting you to do that now. You look ready to bolt, to pull your clothes back on and tell him to go fuck himself on the way out. Probably go straight back to Mingyu, let him fuck you hard but routine, the way Seungcheol usually does, the way he knows you like. He expects you to leave, and this is the last time, anyway, so he figures he has nothing left to lose.
“I’m going soft,” he snaps, the admonishment harsh on his tongue. When you look up at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes narrow. “You have one fucking job and you can’t even do that properly? Who’s going to want a dumb little whore that can’t follow simple instructions?”
He watches your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. Wonders if he’s gone too far before deciding he doesn’t care if he has. It’s the last time, anyway, so it’s not like it matters. Watches the indents in your thighs grow deeper. Watches you inhale and try to steady your breathing.
Watches your eyes snap open, any trace of hesitation long gone. “Did you make that other girl beg for you?”
Seungcheol snorts, amusement showing all over his face. “Is that what this is about? You’re still mad I hooked up with some other girl so you act like this?” He clicks his tongue at you, fists his cock, slicking it up. “Are you jealous?”
“No,” you answer simply, “I’m just trying to figure out why you think you can speak to me however the fuck you want.”
Seungcheol’s hand stutters along his length before it stills, your words sharp and immediate against his skin. He should’ve known. Shouldn’t have thought something like this would work on you, that you’d like it, and he’s halfway to soft and throwing his hands up and tucking his dick back into his briefs when you say, “Answer the question.”
“What?”
You tsk. Move your hands from your thighs to his, nails pressing just deep enough to leave crescent moons behind that match your own. Something for someone else to see. “Did you make her beg for you?”
Seungcheol’s brain power decreases the higher your palms go, when your thumbs press into the dimples of his hips. Can barely choke out a hissed yes, yeah, fu-fuck when your hand covers his, fingers wrapping tightly around his own as you guide it back and forth, up and down the length of his cock. “What did you make her beg for, Cheol?”
“To—to to-touch me.”
You hum. Tighten your grip on Seungcheol’s hand and laugh as his hips roll involuntarily, seeking the friction. “Touch you how? Like this?”
“Yeah—fuck, yes, like this.”
“Did she? Did she listen to you like a good girl?” Your hand leaves Seungcheol’s only to collect the precum at his tip. “Don’t get all shy now, Cheolie.” You suck your thumb into your mouth and he whines. “Was she a good girl for you?”
You sit back on your haunches. Watch him jerk himself off. “Yeah,” he finally says, word cracking in the middle. “Boring, though. Not like—not like you.”
“No one is like me,” you admonish. “I could’ve told you that for free, before you went off and fucked someone else.”
“Not an idiot,” Seungcheol replies, the pace of his hand quickening. He’s playing a dangerous game; approaching the cliff edge at a dangerous pace. “No-nothing comes for free with you.”
All you do is smile, lopsided and smug. “Mm, that’s true. Guess your little dom moment earlier can just be chalked up to momentary stupidity, hm?” Seungcheol wants to nod, wants apologies to tumble from his lips until you shut him up, but his palm is so slick against his dick, fist tight enough to white out his vision. “Did you make her beg to suck your cock?”
Truth be told, Seungcheol can’t remember much of anything right now. He’s perilously close to coming, right at that precipice, and each filthy word that slips from your mouth just pushes him further to the edge. He remembers Chan inviting him to a party. He remembers a few drinks, a few hits from a blunt, compliments of Vernon; he remembers a girl making eyes at him from across the room—eyes that had looked a lot like yours in the haze of his crossfade. He remembers a locked bathroom and the sound of his voice as he told that girl how to touch him so it felt like you. He remembers her doing whatever he told her to, remembers how eager and submissive she was, how she didn’t mouth off to him the way you always do—
Remembers how unsatisfying it’d been when he came.
You’ve ruined him.
Not a revelation. Not even close to one. Seungcheol has known this for a long time, but that doesn’t mean annoyance doesn’t flare in his belly at the reminder. You don’t want him. Being so hung up on you isn’t doing him any favors, just means he’ll have a longer drop when this is all over. God, what the fuck is he doing?
He wants you so badly he’s aflame with it. He wants you so badly he can barely look at you anymore. He wants you so badly it consumes him, drives him insane, has him all fucked up and seething. He wants you, he wants you, he—
Loves.
Reality washes over him like a cold wave. Knocks him backwards, drowning, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. In, out; in, out—and none of it changes a goddamn thing.
Four years of this. Four years of touches exchanged in the dark, behind locked doors. Four years of yearning and trying and failing. Four years of everything getting lost in translation, because it’s hitting him now, but shouldn’t he have felt it before? Shouldn’t all those ‘drive me fuckin’ crazy, can’t fucking stand you’s he spoke into the crook of your neck rang hollow?
“Cheol—” you say, because you asked him something, tried to play along with this whole stupid charade, and he knows he’s frozen, just standing there, hand still wrapped around his cock, and he needs to say something, he needs to fix this—
“I’m a liar,” is what he comes up with. You’re still staring up at him, brows furrowed, pinched in the middle. Move, he wills himself, but nothing happens. “I’m a liar,” he says again, because if he says it enough you’ll believe it. “I’m sorry. I’m—”
“What are you talking about?”
He swallows. I’m in love with you, he wants to say. Feels the weight of the words on his tongue, heavy and pressing, and he thinks you should know. Even if you don’t feel the same, he thinks you deserve to know, but the way you’re looking at him—
He can’t bring himself to say it.
But he can—“Can I show you instead?”
Slowly, you nod. Seungcheol nods, too, still feeling off-kilter as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs in the contours of your cheeks. Moves them down your neck, your shoulders, down the length of your arms. You meet him halfway, twining your fingers together, and he helps you stand, careful and considerate. At full height, he places a hand in the small of your back to tug you closer, kisses you like it’s the end of the world. Whines into your mouth at your familiar taste, and if he lets himself be delusional enough, he can pretend there’s form and substance to those sounds, that their edges are squared-off to form the words he wants to say.
Because it really might be the end of the world. Seungcheol has never known how to play the cards he’s been dealt when it comes to you. Always gets it wrong. Feints one way when he’s meant to go the other, takes the field with two left feet, always playing catch-up. Maybe the mistake was treating it like a game. Maybe the mistake was strategizing, only playing to win, because he lays you gently on his bed, fits his body in the space you create for him between your legs, and realizes he already won a long time ago.
He won the first time your eyes met. He won the first time he’d kissed you, more nerves and teeth than anything else. He won the first time you tucked yourself against his side and stared at his bedroom ceiling, half-smoked joint between your fingers, and made fun of the stupid flag he’d hung up. He won every time you took all the bullshit he threw at you and dished it right back. He won every time he had the privilege of tracing mindless shapes into your soft skin.
Every second of your time you chose to give him—all victories.
He presses in further. Groans when your hands move to his shoulders and grip tight; when your nails dig into the skin of his back. “I’ve been so stupid,” he says, punctuating his words with a nip at your ear. Smirks out of the corner of his mouth at your shuddering breath. “Haven’t I?”
“Yeah,” you answer, rolling your hips upward. He grabs at you desperately, tries to keep you still; hisses when you swat his hands away and redouble your efforts. “You’ve been a fucking asshole for a—for a while.”
You can’t see the way he pouts. Wonders, too, if that would work on you, if it’d earn him one of those rare moments of tenderness. “Well I’m trying to—shit, baby—trying to make it up to you, but you seem pretty determined to make me bust right now.”
He can see the way you roll your eyes. See the way the corners crinkle after as you laugh softly, breathlessly, still trying to chase a high Seungcheol refuses to provide. “You deserve it. You tried to dom me, you dickhead.”
Embarrassment sits obvious on his ruddy cheeks. He hides his face in the crook of your neck so you don’t see it, don’t have something to poke at him with later, but you’re having none of it. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, forceful enough to have him pliable, and there it is: there are stars in your eyes as you stare up at him, tender and soft just like he hoped you’d look, and he misses the feeling of your nails on your scalp until you’re tugging at the delicate chain around his neck and pulling him closer. “Just kiss me and we’ll call it even.”
This is how it feels to get struck by lightning, he thinks. Every part of him is on fire, and he’s content to burn as his lips find yours. He sighs happily into your mouth, hikes your thigh higher around his middle, presses in to lay claim to what little space is left between you. Seungcheol is so close he can feel the rapid pace of your heartbeat, because this is not the way you usually kiss. What used to be dirty and quick, a means to an end, now has intent, purpose. He’s kissing you like he wants to steal the air from your lungs to replace it with something better.
Trails those same kisses down the length of your body. Open-mouthed at your neck, your collarbones, the space between your breasts. Teasing and slow in the space between each rib, just to watch the way your skin pebbles. Hungry and insistent at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, because if he’s feeling this unhinged, he wants you right there with him. Can’t bear the thought of still being in this alone. Not anymore.
“Legs over my shoulders.” You listen immediately, and Seungcheol mutters a quiet fuck at the sight before him. “God, you’re so wet.”
“No shit—”
He swats at your clit, delighting in the way your body jolts. “Hush. The only thing I wanna hear out of your smart mouth from now on is my fucking name.” And then he’s diving in.
He eats you out like a man starved; like he could do this every day for the rest of his life and he still wouldn’t be satisfied. Can’t help but rut against the mattress at the way you taste, the way your thighs tighten around his head, the sting as you pull at his hair. Places both hands beneath your ass to lift and drag you closer to his waiting mouth—licks at you wet and feverish, all of this seemingly more for him than it is for you, and you’ll get tired of it soon, just like you always do. You’ll tell him—
“Do it right, Cheol, please—”
And he’ll pull away and tsk, swat at you again. His responding laugh will be cocky and derisive when your body trembles again, frantic with the need for more. “What did I say, baby? Do you not trust me to make you come?” You cock an eyebrow, torn between throwing some sarcastic remark at him and following the rules long enough to get what you want. His voice grows serious as he presses a soft kiss to your core. “I will always take care of you.”
The rest is muscle memory.
The rest has a chorus of Cheol, Cheol, Seungcheol spilling from your lips as he suctions his own around your clit. The rest has you grinding your pussy against his face. The rest has him groaning at the way he’s so wholly consumed by you: the taste of you on his tongue, face soaked, two fingers pressed deep into your cunt. The rest has him saying that’s it, baby, come on my face, I know you can and feeling delirious when he finally pushes you over the edge; when your walls clench around his fingers, breathing fractured, when you grab at him until you’re eye-level and you’re licking into his mouth to taste yourself.
Tastes a lot like I love you.
“Want you to ride me,” he says, gaze half-lidded and pleading. You whine as he moves his thumb back to your clit, tracing slow, slow, slow circles, oversensitive. “Will you do that for me?”
The party seems so far away. Grows even further away when you nod and straddle his lap. Seungcheol sits up, tells you to wrap your legs around him. Can’t stand not touching you; needs every inch of his skin to be covered by you like a bruise—something deep that’ll last for days, weeks, months. The mottled colors will change, but it’ll still be there.
“Need you, Cheol,” you whisper, kissing his eyelids. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes.
“You have me,” he answers, but it sounds foreign to his ears—sounds wretched, like the words have been punched out of him. It sounds like forfeit. “Always have.”
You pull back. Study his face. Run over his plush bottom lip with your thumb. It feels like an eternity of silence before you speak. “No, I haven’t,” you insist, tone insistent but delicate, like you’re trying to convince him of it, too. “Not like this.”
I love you.
You lift your hips just enough to sink down on his cock. Seungcheol’s moan is loud and unabashed, not afraid to let anyone hear the way you make him feel. All he can think is familiar: he knows your blinding white heat; has made countless homes in your tight grip he still holds the keys to; has done this so many goddamn times it’s second nature.
He was an absolute fool to think he could ever walk away.
You roll your hips, taking him deeper like you’ve got something to prove, body moving on its own sinuous accord. Seungcheol loves you like this, when you know exactly what you want and aren’t afraid to take it. When you press sloppy kisses to his neck, the column of his throat. When he grabs at your hips, tries to move you faster along the length of his cock, and you swat his hands away. When your rhythmic up-and-down turns into a slow grind that has you gasping and breathless, pussy spasming around him.
“Goddamn, I love this pussy,” he chokes out, fingers gripping tightly at the sheets since he can’t touch you. He’s mindless with pleasure, feels himself start babbling nonsense he can’t make sense of, and it’s overwhelming, having you like this. Isn’t sure how he’s survived this long, but maybe you were right.
Maybe it was never like this before.
Usually he’d take you from behind, quick and dirty, hands digging into the meat of your ass, palm cracking down on it every now and then, imparting white heat of his own. Usually he’d have you beneath him, knees pressed to your chest, all condescension as you told him, eyes rolled back, that he was too deep, that you couldn’t take it, and he’d rub at your clit and tell you you could as he dragged another orgasm out of you. Usually he’d be so frenzied and worked up he’d take you against the door, sweats pushed to mid-thigh, forearms straining as they held you up.
So, yeah—this is different. This is a patient, sensual dance to the finish line. This is Seungcheol in his rawest form: a live wire, vulnerable, anxious. This is the unknown, because something has to come after but he doesn’t know what it is.
This is Seungcheol throwing caution to the wind, leaning in close enough to taste the salt on your skin, and saying, “I love you.”
This is Seungcheol planting his feet and fucking up into you, unwilling to hear your response. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but sometimes bliss is just bliss, and he’ll willingly take either.
This is you coming undone on his cock, breathing rapid and ragged, pupils blown wide as you stare at him in awe.
“Say it again.”
Someone slams into the wall just outside Seungcheol’s door, and all at once the real world creeps back in: the thrumming bass line of the music downstairs; laughter, shouting, and yelling; fists banging on shut doors—but he hears you loud and clear. Presses each word into your mouth this time and groans when you swallow them. Barely makes a sound as he spills inside of you, feeling like every nerve in his body is aflame.
The two of you are quiet for a time as you try to catch your breath. Seungcheol only moves to grab his duvet and wrap it around your shoulders, smiling fondly at the small thank you you mumble, seemingly still bogged down, well-fucked.
He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth.
“Okay?”
You nod, push at him until he lays back and pulls you with him, lets you use his firm chest as a pillow. That flag you’d made fun of before isn’t up there anymore, but Seungcheol feels warm at the memory anyway, almost laughs at the comment he imagines you’d make.
Clears his throat. Tries to find his courage. “I really am sorry,” he tells you again, because it doesn’t matter if he loves you if he doesn’t know how to be good at it.
“I know, Cheol,” comes your easy reply. You’re tracing shapes on his stomach that have his muscles contracting. “I know you love me, too.” You sigh, press your lips to his rib cage. “Who knew it’d only take making out with Mingyu to get you to admit it.”
A wild laugh tumbles out of him. “Fuck off.” He can feel your grin.
“You got a fucked up way of showing it, though.”
He hums, holds onto you a little tighter. “Go easy on me, I only figured it out about an hour ago.”
“An hour?” you faux-gasp, make like you’re about to leave. “I’m outta here. I know my worth. If I’m going to say it back to someone, they need to be in love with me for at least two.”
He chokes at the implication, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest and into yours. He knows he looks exactly like the moonstruck, loved-up loser he is, and he coughs to cover it. “That’s what I said,” he lies. “Two hours. You must’ve heard it wrong.”
No, it was never like this.
#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol smut#scoups x reader#scoups smut#seungcheol imagines#seventeen x reader#seventeen smut#seventeen fanfic#seungcheol fanfic#scoups fanfic#jewel writes#fic: wntt
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WIP DUMP
okay so this is lowkey inspired by @jayparked posting about her wips a bit ago (check them out here she's crazy talented and i can't wait to read them all) and since i've been struggling with writing recently i thought maybe sharing some of my wips could help. also biggest thanks to snail for helping me with the synopses for some of these and listening to me stress over the banners and everything
if you want to talk to me about any of them or wanna get tagged pls don't hesitate to send asks or comment on this post, i'd love to talk about them some more🥺❤️
MIDNIGHT IN MILAN — lhs !! POSTED !!
⟡ ┆ featuring. heeseung x fem!reader
⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, established relationship, idol AU (both heeseung and yn)
⟡ ┆ warnings. semi-public sex, unprotected sex, mirror sex, mild choking, creampie, fingering, tiniest hint of degradation (he calls her a slut like once), one singular spank, some hair pulling, not really any aftercare
⟡ ┆ estimated word count. 6k
they say love makes you do stupid things...surely fucking your boyfriend in the bathroom at the prada after party when your relationship isn't even public and neither of you can afford a dating scandal isn't that stupid, right?
(i'm well aware the hype around tipsy heeseung has already died down but i started writing this immediately after the pics dropped and then got hit by writers block so i'm dedicated to finish this)
!! more under the cut !!
HE HATES ME, HE HATES ME NOT — psh
⟡ ┆ featuring. sunghoon x fem!reader
⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, enemies to lovers, coworker AU, miscommunication (ikik), lowkey past fuckboi sunghoon
⟡ ┆ warnings. hate sex, semi-public sex (in an archive room?), protected and unprotected sex (there's several smut scenes), choking, spanking, degradation, praise kink, oral (m. and f. receiving), handjob, fingering, manhandling, overstimulation, dacryphilia, spit kink
⟡ ┆ estimated word count. 20k
park sunghoon hates you, and you hate him. it hadn't always been like that, when you first joined the company he works at he was friendly, a real gentleman, but over time of working together he turns cold, sometimes even downright mean, and you cannot for the life of you figure out what caused the sudden change in his behavior. however, things between you change yet again when you 'accidentally' get locked in your offices archive room.
HOME IS WHEREVER YOU ARE — lhs
⟡ ┆ featuring. heeseung x fem!reader
⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, college!au, friends to lovers
⟡ ┆ warnings. there's some talks of depression as well as unhealthy coping mechanism so be aware of that pls, protected sex (be proud of me okay), oral (f. and m. receiving), vanilla af, neither of them are virgins or inexperienced but they just having sex for the first time together after realizing they've been in love with each other for years :')
⟡ ┆ estimated word count. 14k
"distance makes the heart grow fonder." is no longer just a cliche saying. heeseung decided to follow his dreams, but doing so lead him to a different city, leaving you behind. no other friends, no hobbies to keep yourself busy, and no motivation to keep going, the only thing keeping you on some sort of routine is attending your college classes that your parents force you to go to. just when you're about to officially quit and give up, heeseung shows up out of nowhere and manages to pull you out of your slump, upturning your whole friendship in the process.
NATURAL REMEDY — pjs
⟡ ┆ featuring. jay x fem!reader
⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, physical therapist!reader, patient!jay, probably hipaa violations idk just don't do this irl basically
⟡ ┆ warnings. unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), body worship (jay receiving bc he deserves someone to tell him or handsome he is), handjob, lots of oil, lowkey massage kink idek what to call this??
⟡ ┆ estimated word count. 5k
when jay hurts his knee while goofing around with his friends, his doctor recommends rest and physical therapy. lucky for him, your office is just around the corner, just that neither of you can make good on the ordered rest by doctor.
HEALTHY COMPETITION — lhs + sjy
⟡ ┆ featuring. heeseung x fem!reader x jake
⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, college au, non-idol au, and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates), no romance just fucking
⟡ ┆ warnings. basically no plot, threesome (duh), protected and unprotected sex, anal, double penetration, spanking, oral (m. and f. receiving), multiple rounds, manhandling, they make it a competition to see who can make her moan the loudest...
⟡ ┆ estimated word count. 9k
your roommates bickering should be nothing but white noise to you at this point, but when they both rope you into their little argument of who fucks better things take an interesting turn and a welcomed distraction from studying is provided.
SNEAKY LINK — sjy
⟡ ┆ featuring. jake x fem!reader
⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, uni AU, frat boy jake (i'm sorry), friends with benefits but no one knows, alcohol consumption (they're not drunk and both consenting !!)
⟡ ┆ warnings. unprotected sex (it's a theme for me atp, don't do this irl pls), dry humping, fingering (it's jake come on now), kinda rushed sex ig, does it count as exhibitionism when they fuck in a spare bedroom idk, oral (f. receiving), breast play
⟡ ┆ estimated word count. 4k
frat parties usually weren't your thing, but when your best friend invites you (with the intention to be her wingwoman) you're not one to let her down. that is until you run into jake, whom you've been fooling around with without anyone knowing ...
© sungbeams — all rights reserved. i do not give permission to copy, repost, modify or translate my works.
#lia.txt#wips#wip dump#pls interact guys :(#gonna put some enha tags for exposure sorry in advance !!#heeseung x reader#sunghoon x reader#enhypen smut#enhypen x reader#heeseung smut#sunghoon smut#jake sim x reader#jake sim smut#jay park x reader#jay park smut
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John “Soap” Mactavish x Female reader
TW: Smut, spanking, (kinda) rough sex? Bj, piv.
Soap deserves more x reader content. Just sayin.
WC: 1.9k
Maybe a WIP? Idk
—————-
You didn’t intend to go out tonight and get unequivocally drunk, especially the night before you were deploying with a new unit.
But here you were, a couple beers deep, watching the muscled back of the man with the short, dark mohawk as he attempted to catch the attention of the bartender.
You didn’t intend to try to bring anyone back to your hotel tonight, but damn if that man didn’t look good. He was leaned forward over the bar, palms splayed out on the sticky wood. His thick, Scottish accent was carrying over the other voices around him as he got more and more frustrated at being ignored. The bartender, your poor friend Feliks, continued to ignore him, bustling around the bar to serve the rowdy regulars who ordered in his native language, occasionally glaring at the Scot who threw his hands up in exasperation each time. It didn’t help as the night went on, the regulars were getting rowdier, pushier, shoving against him.
You looked down into your empty glass.
Fuck it
You approached the bar, sliding into the empty space next to the man and called out to Feliks for another drink.
“You’re losing a customer.” You joked to him in Russian, nodding your head to the Scot who guffawed when Feliks set another beer down in front of you.
“Tell him to leave a yelp review.” Feliks barked out, swatting the wandering hands of a patron who was reaching over the counter.
“Am I fucking invisible?” The Scot grunted, stiffening his shoulders as another person bumped into him.
“He doesn’t speak English.” You laughed, turning to face him. Finally, the Scot peeled his eyes off the bartender, glancing down at you. His eyes darted from one of your eyes to the other, to your lips, and back to your eyes.
You were an interpreter, and you could definitely interpret that look.
“What do you want?” You asked, glancing down at the beer he was holding.
“Same thing.” He answered, and you flagged Feliks down, who begrudgingly passed another beer your way. You slid it to the man, letting your eyes wander over his chest before meeting his eyes.
“You’re a ways away from Scotland.” You joked.
“Military.” He grunted, fiddling with the tab of the beer until it popped open, raising it to his mouth to take a long drink.
“Mm.” You hummed in response, resisting the urge to crinkle your nose. You definitely didn’t intend to take one of them back to your hotel.
“Like a man in uniform?” He asked, giving you a cheeky grin. You wanted to groan and roll your eyes, but if you were going to get laid before being in the middle of fucking nowhere for months, you had to take what you could get.
“I like when they take them off.” You said, lifting an eyebrow, hoping he could take a hint. The way his grin widened you knew he was picking up on what you wanted.
“Yeah?” He smiled, eyeing you over the can, fingers tightening on the tin as his gaze fell over the tight dress covering your body.
“Too bad you’re not in yours.” You said, running your hand up the hard muscles of his chest, resting it there as the patrons around you bumped your bodies closer.
“Still looks pretty good outta this, if you want to try it out.” He breathed, catching your waist in his hand and idly grazing his thumb over your hip.
And just like that, you’re letting him lead you through the crowded bar, out the door and to his car. A car that is much too clean to be used daily. You punch in the address to your hotel, tossing the phone down as it loads the ETA.
9 minutes.
You can work with that.
You wait until the gravel is crunching under the tires as he pulls out of the bar, driving through the dark, illuminating the interior of the car when it passes under the occasional street light. You unbuckle, and he glances over to you suspiciously until your fingers graze against his waist band. His eyes widen and his hands squeeze the steering wheel, shifting his hips to give you better access. You unzip his fly, fishing his cock out as it hardens in your grasp. You let a small smile fall across your face when he moans, working your hand up and down his thick length, the precum beading at the top.
“Condom?” You ask husikly, and he nods.
“Wallet.” He groans, bucking his hips into your hand.
You reach into his pocket, fishing out the brown leather wallet and opening it. Your eyes dart over the I.D
John MacTavish.
One condom.
“Just one, John?” You ask, holding it between two fingers with your eyebrows raised. You didn’t want to put this strangers cock in your mouth without protection, but god, it looked delectable. He smiled at you sheepishly, and you tucked it back in the wallet, tossing it on the dashboard. You returned your hand to his cock, leaning forward to press your lips against the shell of his ear.
“Make it count.” You whispered, giving his earlobe a playful nibble. He groaned, and you dipped your head lower, drawing your tongue across the mushroom head. You sucked him further into your mouth, jaw aching as it stretched to accommodate him. You could hear the squeak of the leather on the steering wheel as his grip tightened.
“Fuck.” He moaned, laying a hand tentatively on the back of your head, gathering your hair into his fist. You nodded, allowing him to move you freely up and down his cock, eyes watering when he bucked up, groaning as he attempted to fit all of him into your mouth.
“You’ve arrived at your destination”
He sighed when you pushed up against his hand, pulling him from your mouth with a pop. You led him up to your room, his hand resting on the small of your back, occasionally dropping lower to give your ass a squeeze. You opened the door to your room, tossing the key on the dresser and turning to face him. His hands were immediately on you, his length straining against the denim of his jeans. You reached for the hem of his shirt and he paused, pulling away from your touch.
“Sorry.” He mumbled, turning to face the dresser and digging under his shirt, pulling out a holster and laying it on top. He bent, pulling up the pant of his leg and unclipping another from his ankle and placing it next to the other. He reached into the other boot, pulling a knife out, laying it with his other weapons. He rose up, gauging your reaction.
“Two guns, a knife, but one condom?” You said sarcastically, shrugging the dressing off your shoulders and peeling it down your body.
“Use those more.” He joked, pulling his shirt over his head, his jeans and briefs quickly joining the discarded clothes on the floor. He pressed his naked body against yours, his hard cock trapped between your stomachs as he kissed you, tongue dipping into your mouth. You moaned as he backed you up until the back of your knees bumped into the bed. You sank into the mattress, expecting him to join you. Instead, he knelt on the carpet at the edge of the bed, gripping your hips and dragging you to him.
“What’re you-“ You started, gasping when you felt his tongue lap at the wetness that had pooled between your thighs.
“Thought I’d return the favor.” He said, drawing a long lick up to your clit, his hands wrapping around your legs and pulling them over his shoulders. You moaned, tossing your head back into the bed as you fisted his dark mohawk, grinding into his face with need.
“Oh, fuck.” You gasped as he dragged two fingers across you, pressing against your entrance. He curled them inside of you, thrusting gently as he focused his mouth on your clit.
“Oh god, please don’t stop. Fuck, John.” You moaned, and he groaned against you when you said his name. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut, bucking against his face as you felt your orgasm hit, clenching around his fingers. You sighed when you felt him pull back, opening your eyes as he rolled his one and only condom on. You scooted up the bed until your head hit the pillows, his body draping over yours, knees pushing your legs further apart. He reached behind your head, grabbing a pillow and placing it under your ass. Your lips twitched at the corner, fighting a smile.
This was a well practiced man.
He leaned forward, his dog tags jingling as they dangled by your face. You felt the tip of his cock press against your entrance, and his eyes met yours.
This was much more intimate than you intended.
You both groaned in unison when he pressed forward, his length causing you to tingle with a burning stretch that felt so good. He pressed his forehead against yours, panting. Your nipples hardened when the cool metal of his dog tags brushed against your chest, arching your back into him.
“Fuck, you feel good. So good.” He mumbled, drawing back a few inches before driving into you again, the top of your head gently bumping against the headboard with each thrust.
You weren’t into military men. In fact, you did your best to avoid them. You were in the military, you knew how terrible these men could be.
But holy shit, this man was working your body in ways you didn’t know it could be worked.
You wrapped your arms around his torso, dragging your nails across his back.
“Harder.” You begged, clasping one hand on the back of his neck. He grabbed one of your ankles, maneuvering your leg over his shoulder as he drove deeper, harder, smashing his hips against yours. But it wasn’t enough.
“More, please.” You pleaded, embarrassed at what this man was turning you into. He choked out a laugh, pausing his thrusts.
“What do you want?” He asked, using the opportunity to catch his breath. You placed a hand against his chest, pushing him back off of you, out of you. He stared at you in question, eyes darkening with lust when you flipped around, raising your ass to him and burying your face into the mattress. You felt his hands grip your hips, pulling you back onto his cock. You gasped as he pulled back, ramming into you again roughly. A small smack on your ass made you moan into the pillow, and encouraged by the sound, he did it again, harder this time.
“Better?” He asked, massaging the spot his hand had connected as he thrusted. You nodded, unable to contain the small whimpers that escaped your throat each time he surged forward and hit that delicate spot inside of you. Your ass tingled with each smack, followed by the massage from his calloused hand.
“Feels so fucking good, god I can feel you gripping my cock. I’m not going to last long.” He moaned, hips quickening as if to make a point. You nodded again, your eyes fluttering shut in exhaustion and pleasure as another orgasm overtook you.
“John…” You moaned out, for the first time wishing there wasn’t a barrier between you.
He groaned as you felt his fingers tighten against your hips, draping his body against your back, pressing his sweat drenched forehead against your shoulders blade as the condom filled with his release. He stayed like that for a moment before pulling out of you, the mattress creaking as his weight left it. You felt the comforter fall over your body, the faint rustling of clothes and keys filling the silence as you kept your eyes shut, body spent.
#johnny soap mctavish x you#johnny soap mctavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#task force x reader#task force 141#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon x reader#cod#call of duty#ao3#ao3 fanfic#kyle gaz x you#kyle gaz garrick#tf 141#ghost cod#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod x reader#cod modern warfare#soap cod#soap x reader#soap call of duty#soap mw2#smut
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Erased || Logan Howlett x Reader
summary: You are a powerful mutant with powers you hated. They ruined your life and it led you down paths you weren't proud of. Things changed and now you lived happily with Logan. Until your past seems to come back to ruin everything
warnings: angst. traumatic childhood, brief mentions of torture.
wc: 2.7k
Link to part 2
a/n: Hi guys, so this is kind of the you get hurt and he goes feral fic but i've combined it with this other wip i had laying around. I talked a lot about wanting more angst and tw death (my grandmother passed last night) so ive been in this weird state of sadness that i'm repressing. Either way i wrote a fic so there's that lol. I will def have a part 2 btw so don't worry.
Sometimes when you close your eyes you can remember your childhood. What it was like before your, gift, appeared and ruined everything. How your family loved you, how your friends welcomed you, how the world didn’t hate you. Everything was perfect.
Until the day it appeared. All you did was touch her arm. That’s all you did. An argument with your mother, silence, and then you touched her arm to try and apologize and next thing you knew she was asking who you were. Yelling at you to get out of her house. You cried not understanding what was happening.
She looked at you with nothing but confusion. Not even a hint of recognition. Then your father came home and you ran into his arms. Afraid and distraught when he pushed you off him. The same look in his eyes. Who are you? They threw you out, threatened to call the cops. They left you all alone, afraid, and confused.
It didn’t take long for you to understand. A mutant. You had heard of mutants but never thought you could be one. A mutant with a powerful ability. Memory manipulation. You could alter memories, dive into someone's deepest fears, their secrets, and even erase anything from heads. In a single moment their whole lives could be changed. It was a dangerous power and you wanted nothing to do with it.
For years you lived on the road. Keeping yourself moving, stealing when you needed to. Never getting too attached to one place, to anyone. You were alone.
Then one day some people found you. Dressed in stupid costumes. Still they took you in. Gave you a home, fed you, trained you. You grew up there. From teen to adult. Charles was kind and you don't think you could ever repay him for all that he's done. Your powers were strong but he taught you to control your emotions.
Still you tried to stay a safe distance away from people. Not just physically but emotionally. The nightmares of your parents haunt you everyday. They're nice. All of them are. The kids loved you and you enjoyed the mansion.
Still when the team invited you out you declined, when the kids wanted to crowd you during dinner you politely excused yourself to your office. You didn't go to parties, you didn't celebrate the holidays with them. You were just you, a nice, safe distance away from them. Then your world got flipped upside down.
The day Logan rolled into the mansion. He was mean and angry. He had that "I don't like being around people" kind of vibe but he stuck around. Ended up becoming more apart of the team than he wanted. And he liked it.
Logan was the first one to really break down your walls. Just like everyone else you stayed away from him. Smiling and greeting him but never going past that. Maybe that's what drew him to you. You were a mystery who smelled like vanilla. It was your perfume. He would try to flirt but he got nowhere. Eventually he gave up the flirting but his interest stayed. He find ways to talk to you, getting bits and pieces of information from you.
You quickly learned he was just like you in some ways. Guarded, a past life that you don't want to talk about, loners. Somehow in all of it, as he stayed at the mansion and grew to become part of this family, he wormed his way into your heart too. Just too loners who found out that being alone together is better than being lonely.
As time passed, your relationship with Logan evolved into something you never imagined you would experience. Love. You never let yourself feel this way, too afraid that you would do the same thing to them. That you would get close, build this connection, make these memories, only for it all to come crashing down with just a single touch. These memories are precious to you. Every single one of them.
You remember the day your feelings were revealed. Both of you desperate, afraid of what they meant, but neither of you could lose each other. It was the cure. Some company had found a way to suppress the gene. The moment you heard about it you were intrigued. Your mutation wasn't fun. It didn't let you control the weather or turn things to ice. You couldn't touch people. Just like rouge you were at risk for destroying someone's whole life.
Even with the years of lessons you weren't fully in control. You never let yourself try. Logan could see it in your eyes. The confrontation wasn't pretty.
It was anger at first, wondering how you could even consider that. Then it was anger from you, years of pent up feelings releasing all at once. The fighting turned into a deep confession. An intimate moment between the two of you. He cared for you in a way that scared the shit out of him. He couldn't say the words yet but he felt them. You felt the same way but just like Logan. Something was holding you back from saying those three words.
Still you showed your love to each other in other ways. You always let him know how much you cared for him. The words died on your tongue but he knew. You hope he did.
Logan bought you a necklace. Didn't make a big deal of it but you could see the blush on his face. Tossing you the box and mumbling something about him seeing it and thinking of you. It was gorgeous. Just a simple heart necklace with two sparkling stones. One for him and one for you.
Even if you couldn't touch he wanted apart of him to be with you. It was perfect. Everything was perfect. You had Logan. You had the team, the mansion. For once you felt like your life was falling into place.
Apparently the universe didn't like that. Charles had called the team in for an important mission. You weren't on the team due to your own choosing so when Logan came back to bed he started to talk.
"Yeah some rogue mutants. Bunch of assholes who enjoy torturing humans." He grumbled as he threw his jacket on. Fixing his hair in the mirror as you sit on the bed. You're doing everything you can to stay calm, to not set off Logan's super senses.
"Some guy named Mack is their leader. Guess he's got some illusion powers or something." Logan says it all like its nothing. To him it is nothing. Just another mission. To you though, it's the beginning of the end.
"Don't know who in their right mind would do shit like that. Just a bunch of low life idiots." He spits. You wince at his harsh tone. He notices your silence and glances over at you. You're practically frozen in place. An unreadable look in your eyes.
"You alright?" Logan moves to touch your arm but you jerk it away.
"Yeah sorry, just had another nightmare last night." You lie. Logan looks at you strangely before sitting on the bed. His hand intertwining with your gloved one.
"Though I told you to wake me up." You snort and roll your eyes playfully. "And I told you the same thing." You counter. He smirks, you have him there. Part of why you go so well together.
"I'll wake you next time, I promise." There's a loud knock at the door and Logan grumbles.
"Promised some dumb kids I'd take them to the mall. Storm promised me a six pack of beer." After saying goodbye you let your smile fall.
This couldn't be happening. You thought you were finally safe, this was years ago. How could they still be around. Before Charles had found you, you were involved with this group. You weren't proud if it but you were hungry and afraid and they found you. Mutants just like you. They weren't afraid of you. In fact they were in awe of you, something you had never felt before.
You fell into their group, participating in the horrible things they'd do. You never did anything yourself. You were clean up crew. Wiping memories of anyone who saw something they weren't supposed to. Still, you enabled it all. When you finally left, it wasn't easy. You had tried to erase their memories but for some reason they could block you. You got away but they swore one day they'd come back for you. You were one of them forever now. No one would understand, no one would forgive you. You were a monster just like them.
Your mind runs a mile a minute. Thinking of everyone in the mansion. The team. Storm, Jean, Scott, Rouge...everyone.
Logan, oh god Logan.
Would he understand? He would have to. He's just like you. He did things in his past. He was violent, angry, a survivor. He never claimed to be a hero. But that doubt swirls in your mind. Fear overtakes any rational thought. You know what you have to do.
This was your fight, not theirs. You could stop them, you needed to finish what you started. Grabbing your wrinkled old backpack you stuff clothes, money, and any essentials inside of it. You had to move quick before any of the mind readers got a hint of what you were thinking.
Especially Charles. You barely had time to think about this but the fear was creeping into your mind. Poisoning it. It's better this way. It's safer this way. They've done so much for you that you owe it to them to help. You're protecting them. All of them. Logan included.
You held on tightly to the necklace he had given you. Tucking it in your shirt as you leave the room. You smiled as you walked through the halls. Saying hello to those who passed by. By the time you were at the front doors you felt a pull to keep you here.
Deep down you didn't want to leave. Of course you didn't. But you overcome the pull and walk through the doors. Refusing to look back as the mansion grows smaller in the distance. You walked for hours. Your feet aching as you finally reached some rinky dink motel. The room is depressing but for now it's home. Curling up on the bed you bury your face in the pillow.
Your heart longing for Logan. You're scared, so scared. A part of you wants to go back and find him. Tell him everything and ask for help. But then you remember what he said. How would he react knowing that you were one of them? Would he forgive you or would he turn his back on you just like Mack always said?
You barely get a moment to think before there's a loud knock at the door. Hand slamming impatiently against it. You quietly get up and look through the peephole. You cover your mouth to hide your shocked gasp. Logan. How the hell did he find you?
"I know you're in there." Oh he's angry. You open the door and Logan steps through.
"What the fuck were you thinking?!" His voice booms through the room.
"I come home to a ransacked room, I thought you were in danger. Only to be told that you ran away." He growls. He's clenching his fists tightly. How could you do this to him?
"How did you find me?" You demand as you slowly sink back towards your bag.
"Why did you leave? What's going on!" Logan is confused, lashing out on you because he just doesn't understand. Things were going great. You loved him and he loved you so why would you just run away. Away from the mansion, away from him. Did you not trust him anymore? Why?
"You wouldn't understand." You try to move past him but he grabs your shoulders and pressing you against the wall.
His claws coming out to pin you to it. The sharp adamantium knicks the chain around your neck, breaking it in two. The necklace falls to the ground but neither of you notice.
"Try me." The anger is slowly fading as he silently begs you to talk. To let him in.
"I'm sorry Logan, but I can't."
"Why not? What are you running from? I can help. Let me help." He begs. Please don't leave him. Please. He can do something. He can heal like crazy, he can track, he's fast, he's got fucking metal claws. He can help.
"You can't help me with this Logan. This is for your own good." You try to stay strong but looking into those gorgeous eyes of his was about to make you break.
"This is my fight and mine alone." He scoffs and lets go of you and starts to pace.
"Bullshit. This is our fight now. That's the deal. I lo-" He sighs and pulls you close. "Its you and me. Together." You gently trace his jaw with your gloved hands.
Tears glossing over your eyes as it takes everything in power to stay strong. To not fall into his arms. He's protected himself his whole life and you can't be the one to put him in more danger. He's a hero, he's your hero but tonight he's the love of your life and you need to protect him. Even if it feels like ripping out your own heart.
"Logan..." You say softly. He looks at you with those pretty eyes and you cup his face.
Slowly your lips brush against his. It's just a hint at first. Then it's everything at once. He smashes his lips to yours. Kissing you with a passion and need that you've dreamed off. This is your first kiss after all. It's everything you ever wanted. To feel his lips on yours. Skin to skin. You'll treasure this moment forever.
He's so wrapped up in the kiss that he doesn't notice you take your hand away. Taking off your gloves and move your hands to the side of his head. Hovering over his temples. He pulls away, breathing heavily as he leans in and kisses you again.
"I love you Logan, I love you so much." You say with tears falling down your cheeks. He realizes too late, a flash of fear as you press your hands to his face.
"No!" He roars but its too late.
Like he's in a trance he stands there. You cry as you erase every memory he has of you. He won't remember you, he won't know why he's here or how he got here. You know that you won't have long before someone else finds you and you'll erase their memory too. It's for the best. It's for his own good. His eyes flutter close as he falls to the floor. You catch his head, lowering him gently to the ground. A pillow placed under it. You can't stay, he'll wake any moment. But you have a few seconds. You lean down and place a kiss on his forehead.
"I love you Logan Howlett." You whisper gently.
You take one last look at him before grabbing your bag and running out the door. Each step apart from him is like a knife in your chest. You tell yourself this what needed to happen. You'd rather lose Logan like this than watching him suffer because of you. This way he can be happy, he can move on.
You did this for him. All of it for him.
-
Logan wakes to a pounding in his head. Confusion washes over him as he takes in his surroundings. Where the fuck is he? He doesn't remember how he got here, why he came here. He stands up and looks around the room.
"What the hell?" He mumbles to himself.
Was this a prank or something? He cracks his neck and looks around. The room is mostly empty but a small glimmer catches his eyes. He walks over and sees six holes in the wall that match his claws.
Leaning down he picks up a necklace. A heart with two stones. He winces as a sharp pain shoots through his head. He stands up and slips the necklace in his pocket, something telling him to keep it close. He feels a pain in his chest. Not physical pain but something else. Maybe he finally got drunk. Drank enough to finally fuck him up.
All he knows is that he needs to get back to the mansion. As he leaves stops for a second. He shakes his head and continues on, hopping back on his motorcycle. For a second there he swears he caught a whiff of vanilla.
Must be his imagination.
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You were not supposed to hear that...yet
→ Masterlist || → Taglist
Pairing: Alhaitham x (gn!) Reader
Summary: Alhaitham reveals a secret about the inner workings of his heart to his friends over a cup of wine and in between some banter. However, he did not expect it would go this wrong...
Tags: Fluff, crack, comfort, teasing, consumption of alcohol (by characters), the whole 4ggravate crew is here, friendly banter between friends, a small sprinkle of angst because reader is insecure (but it's unjustified)
A/N: Dust posting a new fic?! Not an April Fool's joke, despite the date! Finally felt inspired and well enough again to finish this fic that has been rotting in my WIPs forever. I hope you like it. And feel free to hit me up with asks and reblogs - it'd motivate me greatly after my long break 🥺
The usual friend group of Cyno, Kaveh, Tighnari, and him - Alhaitham, was sitting at the Tavern. A gathering like it happened almost every weekend at this point.
The wine bottle on the table had been emptied around two or three times already when Kaveh ordered a new one yet again. At this point, Alhaitham had actually lost count of how many glasses of wine he'd already had, too. But one thing was for certain, he could feel the alcohol in his system and the warm blood that was rushing to his cheeks. All things considered though, despite feeling a little tipsy from the intoxication, he was still able to think clearly.
"Let me guess I'm the one who will have to end up covering your bill again?" He took sarcastic a jab at Kaveh.
The man in question just squinted his eyes and glared daggers at him before opening his mouth in an attempt to protest before it was quickly shot down by Tighnari's hand covering it.
Alhaitham leisurely leaned back in his chair smirking to himself, training his focus back onto the TCG cards in his hands and considering his next turn of action in the game he was playing against Cyno.
"What, am I just supposed to take it all the time and be quiet?!" Kaveh retorted, directed at Tighnari. The fox's ears were beginning to droop lower and lower as his expression became more and more deadpan.
"You all know as well as I do that if [Y/N] was here he wouldn't be acting like this. He would be on his best behavior and pay for the drinks without so much as complaining or being so cocky."
"By the way," Tighnari attempted to divert the attention away from Kaveh's ranting. "Where are they? Didn't you say they wanted to stop by the Tavern as well today, Alhaitham?"
Alhaitham played his round, throwing his card Cyno's way before looking up at Tighnari again.
"They mentioned it but I suppose something must've come up instead. I will ask tomorrow."
"Isn't it strange?" Kaveh addressed the others. "Whenever it involves [Y/N] he graciously offers himself up to talk to them and seek them out but whenever someone else is looking for him he is nowhere to be found."
"Maybe you just can't find me because I simply don't have anything to discuss with you." Alhaitham threw another jab at Kaveh with a smirk, which was promptly followed by a light punch against his bicep by the blonde architect.
"What? I constantly have to talk to you already when we're at ho-"
"SHHH! Don't say that out loud." Kaveh hissed, quickly covering Alhaitham's mouth in panic, since he didn’t want him to spell out that they were currently living together. “It's embarrassing enough that I currently have no other choice, no need to add to my misery.”
A witty quip was burning at the tip of Alhaitham's tongue after Kaveh's remark yet again, but he decided to swallow it. He didn't want to upset him too much, especially since he knew he'd had it rough lately. Even if it would've been said in jest, there was no need to add insult to injury. Instead, he simply resorted to taking another sip of his wine with a low chuckle and a glance in the blonde architect’s direction.
“Aaaaanyway…”, Tighnari cleared his throat, addressing Alhaitham once more. “What is it between [Y/N] and you anyway? You've become quite close haven't you?”
“That's an understatement.” Kaveh groaned, dropping his head on his folded arms on the table dramatically. “He can't stop talking about them. Day in and day out it’s [Y/N]-this, [Y/N]-that.”
“We started working on a project about six months ago. Things are progressing quite smoothly if I do say so myself. Certainly makes things easier if you're working with someone who is both hardworking and intelligent in every way. I’ve been lucky to have been assigned to the project with them.” Alhaitham answered Tighnari’s question rationally while ignoring Kaveh’s dramatic display.
“Here he goes again.” Kaveh huffed, directing his comment at Cyno and Tighnari. “Whenever he talks about them you hear nothing but praises.”
“If someone is doing a great job, is it not logical to give them the credit they deserve?” Alhaitham added matter of factly.
“No… I mean yes, but no. It's just not something I'd see you doing. It’s so out of character.” Kaveh huffed. “And before you say anything, yes, maybe I just don't know that side of you because I don't give you any reason to praise me. No need to add that, thank you.”
Kaveh poked his tongue out at Alhaitham before taking a big sip from his wine.
“Why, if you want to be praised you just need to say so, Kaveh. I think you're quite brilliant - your shortcomings aside.” He just had to add that last bit. Kaveh was just way too easy to tease. And what would this friend group be without the playful banter and jabs at each other?
Kaveh choked on the drink immediately and slammed his cup down onto the table with a loud clang. A fire burned behind his crimson eyes when he spoke next.
“This is exactly what I meant, thanks for proving my point!”
Kaveh looked at Cyno and Tighnari gesturing in the direction of Alhaitham with a move that said “Do you see what I mean now?”.
Tighnari just facepalmed and shook his head.
“And what is your point exactly?” Cyno inquired, playing a card from his hand.
“Did you not listen to what he said?” Kaveh gasped.
“Not really,” Cyno admitted honestly, his eyes trained back on the cards in his hands.
“It's the fact that he can praise others too, but never without also pointing out their faults in the same sentence. Did no one ever notice that? However, he never does that when it's [Y/N].” Kaveh explained.
“And?” Tighnari and Cyno replied in unison, looking puzzled as to where Kaveh wanted to go with this.
Kaveh put his head in his hand and groaned in frustration. “Sometimes you all make me feel like I am surrounded by idiots.”
Now everyone raised their eyebrows at him.
“You're all so clueless… anyway.” He sighed dramatically and accusingly pointed a finger at Alhaitham. “This guy. This admittedly handsome but blockheaded, know-it-all, stoic, annoying-”
“Get to the point.” Alhaitham chided, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Fine, fine." Kaveh spread his arms like he was holding a presentation and Alhaitham his canvas.
“This guy's right here, as alien as it may sound – has fallen in love.”
“You're in love?!” Cyno exclaimed his eyes widening. “With who?!”
Tighnari rolled his eyes, knowing full well Cyno hadn't listed at all the past ten minutes because he had been so absorbed in his cards, and gently slapped the back of his head.
“[Y/N], of course!” The Forest Ranger exclaimed with a huff.
Cyno, now rubbing the back of his head just ushered a “Wait really?” while Kaveh and Tighnari just curiously began eyeing Alhaitham in the hope of seeing any type of confirmation on his face. However, it stayed as unreadable as ever.
He nonchalantly took another sip of wine from his cup while leisurely looking back and forth between the cards on the table and the ones in his hand before playing another turn as if this conversation just now hadn't happened.
“So!?” Kaveh asked, almost hysterically at this point. “Do you intend to enlighten us?”
Just how had he gotten into this situation now? Alhaitham suppressed a sigh before turning to Cyno: “Your turn. Two of your cards are down.”
“Archons!” Cyno cussed, immediately attempting to go back to study his cards but a fist slammed the table harshly, drawing all attention to it.
Tighnari flinched in shock and Cyno, too seemed to be pulled back to reality. Kaveh’s hand was trembling slightly, visibly agitated.
“Stop changing the subject, Alhaitham. The more you keep avoiding answering the question the more I think I am right in my assumptions.”
Alhaitham pinched the bridge of his nose beginning to truly feel a little stressed by Kaveh’s insistance. The man was truly too nosy for his good.
“Kaveh, just let it be if he doesn’t-” Tighnari began before being cut off by Alhaitham.
“And what if you are right? What then, Kaveh?”
Everyone at the table fell silent and everyone was staring at him with a mix of disbelief and shock.
He hadn't planned to reveal any of this yet, especially since he feared they would try to become his wingman. Which, admittedly, may be a nice gesture on paper but with them it could only end in disaster. Plus he would prefer to deal with his feelings alone first and think them through thoroughly, before talking about them with anyone. Besides, it should be you, if anyone, who should hear about them first - alas he was too deep into this now to weasel his way out.
“What?!” Kaveh’s mouth hung open in shock.
“So it is true then?” Cyno inquired, putting the card in his hand down on the table, now suddenly fully hooked on the tea that was being spilled.
“Hold on. Pause.” Kaveh sat upright, before quickly gazing over Alhaitham’s shoulder. “So you-”
“For Archon’s sake.” Alhaitham was beginning to get annoyed because he didn't know how much clearer he had to become for them to get it. “Yes - I’ve been in love with them. For a while now-”
“Alhaitham-” Kaveh tried to interject.
“No, don't interrupt me now, you pestered me about it for the past twenty minutes now you'll have to listen. I have never met anyone who is so hardworking, intelligent, and stunning in any way. Of course, I would be infatuated with a person like them. It would be hard not to fall for them.”
“Uhm Alhai–” Kaveh laughed awkwardly before being interrupted by Alhaitham’s ongoing monologue once more.
“At first I wasn't sure about it but I am now. I am thinking about them first thing in the morning and last thing when I go to sleep - unless you're hammering away on some project again that keeps me awake, Kaveh.”
Kaveh waved for him to shut up already but Alhaitham didn't let that bother him. If he wanted the full story with all the details - he'd get it. He hoped that would get this discussion out of the way once and for all.
“And guess what? They even remembered how I liked my coffee just after I told them once and gifted me a book that I had been trying to find for weeks. So yes, Kaveh. I love [Y/N]. There, does that suffice now, or?”
Kaveh let out a squeal as soon as Alhaitham had stopped speaking but upon further inspection of his expression, it hadn't been one of excitement but rather pure terror and awkwardness.
“Alhaitham…” Cyno and Tighnari said in unison and he only then noticed as well how their gaze was trained on a spot behind him.
“What?” Alhaitham inquired, curling a brow up in confusion before all three men pointed their fingers at something behind him.
When he turned his head around to look at what they were trying to show him, he felt his heart drop to his stomach for the first time in ages.
To his utter shock, you were standing right behind him. Or rather, you were frozen in place, your hand still half lifted in greeting as if you had just been about to greet the lot of them. Your mouth was slightly open in shock still and your pupils were but the size of pinpricks and transfixed on Alhaitham.
And judging by your reaction you must've heard every last word he had said.
“I-I…” You started stammering, clearly confused about what you had just heard. “I uh-, I'll head back home.”
You abruptly turned around on your heel and marched straight out the Tavern door you had just come through as if someone was chasing you.
Alhaitham hadn't moved a muscle ever since he had spotted you standing behind him and he looked like he was frozen in place. Everyone at the table had fallen so silent, one would've been able to hear a needle drop.
Alhaitham's eyes were still fixed on the door you had left through. The little bell that chimed every time the Tavern door hit it on the way in or out was still dangling lightly from the impact. But the movement was dying down slowly but surely - just like Alhaitham, who felt like someone had dropped a boulder on his chest.
You were not supposed to hear that, yet.
“You uh…, Alhaitham you should probably follow them.” Tighnari was the first to speak again. He awkwardly scratched behind his ears. Cyno hummed in agreement while Kaveh just sat there with his mouth wide open.
Alhaitham exhaled in frustration, unable to properly place his emotions. But they were somewhere between unsettled, nervous, and discomforted.
When he got up it felt like someone had tied heavy iron blocks to his ankles that were weighing him down.
“Yeah, I guess I do,” Alhaitham muttered before marching off.
When you stormed outside the Tavern the cool evening breeze gnawed at your skin and made goosebumps erupt all over. Although you weren't quite sure if it was the temperature or your emotional turmoil at play here.
There was no way Alhaitham had just said that and actually meant it. He wouldn't be the type of man to flat-out admit that he had feelings for anyone. Or would he? He had been talking to his closest friends after all.
You were questioning your sense of reality and thought you must've fabricated it all in your mind. Or maybe you misheard what he said and he was talking about something else entirely.
But no, he said your name, and the others looked panicked when you entered the tavern and approached the table.
As you rushed through the streets of Sumeru City the chilly wind kept whipping in your face. Not even you knew where you were going at this point. You simply went where your feet were carrying you.
But eventually, you realized you had run up the Akademiya and to the blue-green mosaic pavilion that glistened in the last rays of sunlight. The spot at which you and Alhaitham often spent your lunch break together.
You sunk down on the bench exhaustedly and stared holes in the ground.
No way.
There was just no way.
Alhaitham. The man you had fallen for so hard that he had begun to occupy every waking thought you had. That man was supposed to have feelings for you and had just flat-out admitted it?
No, this simply had to be a dream. A bad joke. Or maybe even a bet between the group that they orchestrated to prank you.
You could feel your heart thumping in your head and it felt like your head was swimming. It was as if you had downed an entire bottle of wine by yourself, but you were as sober as one could be.
Yes, that had to be it. It was a bet between the boys over one too many cups of wine and they had all acted their parts out flawlessly.
You got up again walking to the railing, overlooking Sumeru city that shone majestically in the last remaining rays of sunshine that the day had to offer. Another gush of wind blew your way, making tears well up in your eyes. Although it may have also been your emotions who were to blame for that instead.
You inhaled deeply. Once. Twice. But nothing seemed to help calming the rapidly beating heart in your chest.
In your daze, you completely missed how someone had quietly come up to the pavilion as well.
Alhaitham leaned against the railing himself, looking over the city in silence, too. He was clearly ringing for words. Although you assumed the wrong reason for his struggle.
“Look,” you began, trying your hardest to suppress the tremble in your voice. “If you came here to apologize - please, spare me your words.”
He looked at you opening his mouth before closing it again right after with a silent nod. His cheeks were dusted in a light pink shade - you assumed it was caused by the alcohol he had downed at the tavern with the others.
“I hope that we can go back to normal tomorrow and just finish our project. I’d prefer if we kept our distance after that. I think it’s for the best” The words left your mouth at normal speed, but it felt like you had to force every single one out. They felt tenacious, like old chewing gum that you tried to pull out from in between your teeth.
“I understand.” He stated calmly before retraining his gaze back into the distance.
You both kept standing next to each other in silence for a long while before you decided to confront him about it directly. You eventually decided it was for the best if you got things off your chest now so that you could get over him quickly. Ripping it off like a band-aid would hopefully give you the relief you so desperately craved right now.
“You know,” you began. “I don’t know who came up with the idea and I also don’t care, no need to tell me. But you guys should never do this to anyone again because you never know how much it might end up hurting someone else’s feelings.”
Alhaitham stood upright and turned to face you directly. He crossed his arms over his chest and slightly cocked his head like he always did when he was thinking about something you said.
After a momentary pause, he asked: “What do you mean?”
“I mean that you shouldn’t toy with someone’s feelings as a prank. It’s never actually funny for anyone but the people who orchestrate such a prank. No matter if the other person reciprocates the feelings or whether they believe the statement, they always end up being the one who is being ridiculed.” You explained as rationally as possible, which was a stark contrast to the tempest that was raging both inside of your heart and mind.
“Especially when the person hoped to hear those exact words for the longest time, too…” You added. It wasn't more than an utterance under your breath - so quietly it was barely audible. But Alhaitham heard nonetheless.
“But I meant everything I said.” He stated matter of factly, seemingly catching on to the fact that you must’ve assumed the wrong things about the whole situation.
“What?! Alhaitham, please, there is no need to add insult to injury. You had your fun now–”
“No.” He gently took your hands in his, exhaling heavily. “Archons, you weren’t supposed to find out like this.”
He rarely swore which made the impact of his words even stronger.
“I wanted to tell you face to face and was waiting for the right moment to do so. But, just know that every word you heard and everything I said back at the tavern was the truth. No bet or scheme made me say it. Not that anyone would be able to make me say these things in the first place.” He sighed once more, giving your hands an emphasizing squeeze. “I meant it.”
“You did?”
“Every word.”
You felt the blood rush to your face and immediately lowered your gaze in an attempt to hide your flusteredness.
“Had I known this would happen, I would’ve told you everything right from the start. I don’t like how this went now but–”, he moved his hands up to cup your face. His beautiful turquoise eyes trained on no one but you.
“I’m absolutely certain I like you. You drive me crazy. And I love and hate how much you occupy every waking thought of mine because I can’t focus on anything when you’re around. And when you’re not, you’re still always on my mind. So please – be mine.”
Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.
#genshin impact#astronetwrk#genshin fanfic#genshin x reader#alhaitham x reader#al haitham x reader#alhaitham x y/n#genshin fluff#genshin crack#genshin alhaitham#genshin x y/n#genshin impact fanfic#genshin drabbles#genshin scenarios#genshin brainrot#genshin headcanons#🍁 dust writes#🍁彡 gi
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i do not know who i am... i do not know why i'm here.... all i know is i must extrude
her: i'm coming over you better not be a WIP low poly hedgehog my ultimate ass:
#self-reblog#WIP#i have absolutely no idea what i'm doing so this is. i assume. some kind of hot mess. nowhere to go but up#or maybe down! we'll see#shadow the hedgehog#baby's first project i'm still learning the keyboard shortcuts
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Live to Die Another Day
Summary: On a hunt involving amateur witches, Y/N gets hit by a spell, and Dean is determined to help.
Characters: Dean Winchester x F!Reader, Sam Winchester
Warnings: NONCON/DUBCON, Consensual Sex, Spell, Fuck or Die, Angst, Fighting, Smut (Unprotected Sex, Outdoor Sex, Creampie), Fluff, Love Confessions
WC: 5,616
A/N: Another story that just came out of nowhere. I swear, I try to work on my current projects, but sometimes you gotta take a break and get the other ideas out of your head so you can keep going on your current WIPs. So, have a thing!
My Masterlist
The motel room door closed with a soft click that sounded louder in the confines of the small, rented room. Y/N slowly made her way to the closest of the two queen beds and gingerly sat on the edge. Dean eyed her cautiously as Sam settled at the little kitchenette table and opened his laptop, beginning to research what he could remember.
They had been hunting witches - pretty nasty ones at that - and had managed to kill them all. Well, not before the last one - a real amateur among them - threw a Hail Mary by tossing some red powder at Y/N and chanting Latin before Dean put a bullet in her head.
Sam focused diligently as he typed the Latin he heard and the circumstances of the spell. Dean sat nursing a beer, concentrating solely on Y/N, not knowing what magic effects would affect her or what might happen. Y/N did everything cautiously - moving, talking, sitting, thinking - but she felt no different. Just a little gross from the hunt and a bit itchy from whatever that powder all over her contained.
"Sam, I feel fine. Honestly," Y/N sighed and smiled at him for reassurance.
"Pretty sure it's a lust spell," Sam muttered, still focused on the laptop and taking a sharp inhale. "Looks like it's fatal if not appeased." He glanced at Y/N, then Dean, before returning to his computer.
Dean felt his heart sink into his stomach. It made sense, considering the witches seemed to be experimenting with different sexual and lust-related spells and curses, hexing local citizens, most of whom died, but none of which had the same kind of spell or ingredients involved.
More than that, Dean swallowed hard at the thought of Y/N having to go through something like that. She'd need a partner, someone she trusted to help her. Dean tried not to get excited, to jump up and volunteer at the notion. However, he was still scared and worried that she could die or, worse, wouldn't take his help if offered.
They were friends, hunting partners, and Bunker roommates. She'd been with them for over a year since they found her, saving herself from a nest of vampires that had tried - and failed - to make her a victim. Despite not having a hunting background, the Winchesters took her under their wing, immediately recognizing her talent and potential.
It didn't take long for Dean to start falling for her. He'd flirt occasionally, wink and smirk, and enjoy her giggles, eye rolls, and flushed cheeks. But he was too nervous even to try, feeling way beneath her, unworthy of her, not wanting to taint her with him.
"Fuck or die?" Y/N scoffed. "Seriously? I don't feel anything though. Maybe Dean shot her in time, and the spell didn't have time to take effect."
She wasn't even sure Sam had heard her or was listening as he reached for one of the books he'd taken from the witches' place and scanned for more information. When his face went a few shades pale, she swallowed hard in worry.
"Sam?"
"Looks like the witches mixed up some of their Latin conjunctions," he muttered, jotting down the words he remembered versus the spell. As he looked over everything before him, it all became clear. "I think they were going for aggressive lust. As in, the person would become consumed with lust and just take whoever they wanted. But they messed up the wording. So it makes them need to have sex to live but aggressively fight against anyone who touches them or tries."
"Wait," Dean stared at his brother as the gears turned in his head. "So that's why half the vics were mauled to death? Because the lusting party beat them to death for trying to have sex with them?"
"Yeah," Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair, avoiding Y/N's eyes as he concluded. "Which means, to have sex to break the spell, someone has to fight her, overpower her, and…a-and." Sam huffed, his pleading puppy eyes looking up to Dean, silently begging not to have to say it.
"Fuck," Dean groaned, glancing at Y/N and surprised when she started laughing.
"No. No way, Sam," Y/N chuckled. "You're saying I have to fight and be assaulted by some dude or die? I feel fine! No arousal, no anger, I'm fine!"
"No one's touched you," Sam pointed out. "If someone touches you, that'll probably set it off."
Dean couldn't help but think over the whole case and their current situation and just how monumentally fucked up it all was. But he didn't want anyone else touching her, let alone fucking her. He really didn't want to get mauled trying to help her, either.
Y/N was a good friend, but she'd meant more than that to Dean for a long time. He already considered her his, even if they'd never been together or taken that step. He had wanted to - God, so many times - but he'd never dared to take that leap.
Now, everything felt like a nightmare of anything he ever wanted with her, but he simply could not let anyone else touch her that way.
"Okay, well, let's test that theory then," Dean said, stepping towards Y/N and extending his hand for a shake.
Y/N was trying her best to be brave, but internally she was freaking the fuck out. She wasn't lying before, she didn't feel anything - no lust, no anger - but she was still scared shitless that could change at any moment. She knew what happened to the victims, and she saw the bodies. She didn't want to do that to anyone, and she really didn't want to die.
When Dean stepped forward with an extended hand, offering to shake, she couldn't help the sudden wave of arousal that washed over her. Dean always had that effect on her. She had wanted him and to be with him as more than just friends, but she was too afraid of rejection and pained by her past to take a chance.
Now, however, that familiar arousal seemed much more intense. She hoped Sam was wrong and told herself it was probably okay to shake hands. Besides, if everything did go to shit, she knew she could trust Dean to care for and save her.
Y/N shook her head and laughed, thinking he might be joking, but Dean stayed firm and waited for her. With a groan and an eye roll, she rose from the bed and shook Dean's hand. Almost immediately, her grip tightened to near-painful levels as pure, fiery-hot rage surged through her veins.
"Don't fucking touch me!" she growled - actually growled - at Dean as she yanked her hand from his, looking feral and on the edge of attack.
Dean was caught off guard, not expecting such a strong reaction, or any reaction, for that matter. He jumped back several feet, and Sam stood, raising his hands and stepping between them.
"Hey, Y/N?" Sam tried drawing her attention to him, and she instantly relaxed since he hadn't touched her. "No one's going to hurt you. Dean won't touch you again, okay?" She didn't respond but backed down, keeping her eyes trained on Dean like a predator watching its prey. It sent both shivers and heat down his spine.
As Y/N sat back on the edge of the bed, she stifled a moan from the pressure against her core. She felt unbearably aroused, like a stiff breeze could nearly make her come. But her body and mind were reacting as if she was pissed Dean had aroused her - which she sort of was. She suddenly needed to be fucked, like really, truly needed it. But she knew if anyone touched her - which you kind of have to do for sex - it would make her as pissed at them as she was at Dean.
Then there was Dean. Usually, the idea of him haunted her dreams, leaving her wet and aching in the morning. Usually, his proximity had her begging for any touch from him, even an accidental graze. But they were friends and hunting partners. Despite the constant flirting, he did that with many women, so she knew she wasn't special. It didn't matter with the spell anyway, as an utter loathing for Dean replaced the affection she typically carried. Instead of yearning, she felt only abhorrence and disgust.
She would rather die than let him touch her.
Dean and Sam talked in the corner, and she couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but Dean's eyes were locked on hers from behind Sam's shoulder. His gaze was dark, almost as if he was as needy as she was. She felt more wetness pool in her panties at the heated gaze, and it made her growl at him again, ready to pounce and rip his throat out with her teeth.
Dean couldn't - wouldn't - take his eyes off of Y/N. She looked downright feral, the fire in her eyes making his hunter instincts spark to life, ready for a fight. But the desire and hunger swimming in the depths, the way she squirmed in need subconsciously, made his cock begin to swell in interest. Sam was trying to talk to him about logistics, but he wasn't paying attention; his focus was entirely on Y/N.
Lucky it was, as she grew tired of the tension and jumped from her seat, her gaze and anger solely focused on Dean. Tossing Sam aside - who landed against the door with a loud thud and a hissed 'dude' - Dean readied himself for Y/N's attack. She came at him, wild and enraged, but Dean could easily defend against her.
However, she twisted from his grasp and attacked again, catching him off guard. Maybe he had taught her too well. He growled at the hits she landed before his muscle memory took charge. The next few seconds found Dean not only fending off her attack but launching her away from him and onto the bed with a roar.
Sam, seizing the opportunity, grabbed his older brother and dashed out of the motel room, slamming the door behind them and holding the knob in case Y/N tried to follow. Luckily, it seemed to quiet down, and she never went for the door. Sam exhaled and turned to look at Dean, who seemed equally concerned and angry.
As soon as the door slammed shut, Y/N froze, staring at the wooden portal as if something might jump out and attack her. Her energy and anger slowly drained, leaving her with only the lust racing through her veins. She forced herself back to the bed, every step causing her thighs to rub and graze against her sensitive core. Fucking witches!
When Sam was sure Y/N wouldn't follow or keep attacking, he relaxed and released the door, turning to his flustered older brother.
"You okay?"
Dean scoffed and shook his head, "This is fucked up. I could have hurt her."
Sam just nodded, "So, what are we going to do? It's not like we can find some random guy to help her. And any guy willing to do that to her isn't someone I want around."
Dean nodded and huffed, his hackles rising at the thought of some random person touching Y/N. She was their friend, their hunting partner, their family. Dean glanced at Sam and knew he could never do that to Y/N. They were close friends, but autonomy was significant to Sam, and Dean knew his little brother couldn't bring himself to fight and fuck Y/N - especially not like this.
That left Dean, and as much as the thought made his stomach churn, he knew he couldn't let her die. He cared about her - more than he was willing to label - but their situation was a mockery of anything he ever entertained in his mind.
"I'm gonna have to take her somewhere," Dean began, seeing Sam's confused look. "We can't trust anyone else. I'm not about to let her die, but I can't do it here."
"Witnesses," Sam confirmed with a nod.
"Right, I'll wrangle her in the car and take her somewhere. Then I'll do what I have to do."
They were both fighting off the rising disgust and nausea as they formulated a quick plan of action. The idea was for Dean to enter the room and restrain Y/N, getting her into the car and to the middle of nowhere. She would undoubtedly put up a fight and scream, but they couldn't afford to draw attention. Dean was willing to have another dark mark on his soul if it meant saving her life. He just hoped she'd understand and forgive him.
Plan in place, Dean took a deep breath and was in the mindset of a hunt before he burst into the motel room with urgency. Y/N's gaze shot to him, and she immediately turned from concern to anger, standing from her seat and taking a fighting stance. Anticipating her attack, Dean quickly avoided her initial charge, dodging to the side and ending up behind her. She spun quickly, and Dean blocked a barrage of punches she threw at him, growling and snarling the whole while.
A well-landed blow on her part caught Dean off guard, but as he recovered, he was more determined. As she launched her next attack, Dean overpowered her, tackling her to the ground and using his size and weight to keep her from kicking or hitting him. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a set of handcuffs and clicked them into place, binding her wrists behind her back.
With a huff, he rose to his feet, then pulled her up by the arms. She continued to struggle and fight, but Dean simply perp-walked her to the backseat of Baby, lacing the buckle through her cuffs to keep her in place.
"She's pissed off," Sam commented as Dean slammed the back door of the car a little too harshly.
"You think?" he scoffed, more than a little surprised by how strong and efficient a fighter she'd become. He was glad neither seemed hurt much but knew it was still far from over.
Sam watched Dean go to the driver's door, prepared to leave with Y/N. He wanted to say something, to encourage or reassure his brother, but he couldn't find any words to help their current situation. As Dean pulled out of the space and drove off to who knows where, Sam sighed and returned inside the motel room, hoping they'd both be okay.
-
Dean drove fast, in a hurry to get to a secluded area and help Y/N before she tore herself apart, trying to get out of her restraints. She was handcuffed, her arms pinned behind her back, and he had looped the seatbelt through the cuffs to hold her back in the seat. He didn't need her trying to attack or bite him as he drove.
Once the light pollution from civilization faded, Dean relaxed as he pulled off onto a dirt path through thick woods. Far from anything, the stars and moon were the only lights. Dean parked the Impala and took a breath before climbing out.
Y/N began thrashing and shouting again as he approached the rear door. He'd chew her ass later for kicking the back of his seat as much as she could in the confined space. As he opened the door, he was met with a kick to the stomach, her leg bent at a weird angle to strike out at him. Having had more than enough, Dean growled and hastily undid the seatbelt, dragging her roughly from the car.
"Look," Dean growled as he pinned her against the side of the car. "I know the spell makes you fight, but I am trying to help you."
"Fuck you," Y/N spat.
"That's the plan," Dean sneered, spinning her around and bending her over the trunk. "Now, if I remove these cuffs, you gonna be nice?"
"I'm gonna rip you to pieces," she chuckled darkly, and Dean couldn't help but swallow hard at the threat. He now knew she could probably go head-to-head in a fight with him, and he didn't want to.
"I guess I'll just keep them on then," he responded, holding her in place and looking her over.
A large part of him couldn't help but be aroused. He had wanted Y/N and thought about her many times but kept it inside, content with their close and cherished friendship. Seeing her bent over his Baby, her plump ass in the air, had him hardening in seconds. That's when he noticed the seat of her pants was soaked through, and she was squeezing her thighs together. She may not want him, but she certainly needed him.
The thought of just friends - now or after this - seemed to blow away in the wind.
"I'm gonna take care of you," Dean whispered soothingly as he unfastened her jeans, tugging them and her underwear down to her thighs.
"No, don't!" she growled, trying to move and getting nowhere more than squirming under him.
She knew what was about to happen, and her mind was screaming to stop, to prevent him from taking her. But her body was desperate for it, for him. She'd wanted Dean - in the back of her mind, she knew that - but never like this. She wanted him to fuck her, and she wanted to kill him for daring even to touch her.
"No?" Dean questioned as his fingers teased over her core before rubbing against her swollen clit. She gasped and let out a wanton moan, her hips bucking against his hand. "Seems like your body disagrees."
Y/N still tried to fight, to get out from under his control, but Dean pinned her in place as he hastily unfastened his jeans and pulled out his fully-hard cock. Just the sounds - his zipper, his clanking belt buckle, his huffed breaths as he rushed - amped up her arousal until it was pooling at her entrance and spilling over down her thighs, making her moan and swoon despite the rage at Dean and the unwanted assault that was about to occur.
The sight of her slickened folds, dripping down her thighs, her delicious moans from his simplest of touches, had Dean hard enough to cut glass. He hesitated, reassuringly touching her hip and trying to still his nerves.
"Dean, please, don't. Don't do this," Y/N begged, almost making Dean call the whole thing off. Except, he knew she would die if he didn't. He'd rather have her alive and hating him than dead and gone entirely.
"I'm so sorry, Y/N-" Dean apologized, knowing it would only be the first of many apologies "-but I have to. Forgive me."
Throwing aside his feelings and determined to 'get the job done,' Dean slid deep within her with one harsh thrust, making them both shout moans into the night air. He began fast and hard, focusing on working her towards her high, knowing it wouldn't take much for him to follow.
Y/N tried to squirm out of the cuffs and tried to vocalize her rejection, but it all died out in the presence of her utter need. Her core clenched around his every intrusion, and moans and gasps ripped from her throat as he drove her toward her climax at an alarming rate.
As soon as his hand reached around and rubbed her clit, she was gone, cumming hard around his shaft. As she clenched around him, he groaned, his own need imminent. But he wouldn't let himself cum, not considering the circumstances. He just wanted to help her and cure her, not violate her further.
Dean stumbled back, pulling up his jeans but leaving them open and undone as he retrieved the key and unfastened the handcuffs around Y/N's wrists. She moved her arms with a hiss, and Dean tried to ignore the mess he made between her legs as he pulled up her pants for her, then quickly stumbled away from her again.
Y/N rubbed her wrists, sore and raw from her struggling. The spell over her had broken when they both climaxed, and she could feel the lust and anger ebbing away. What remained was the utter embarrassment and horror at the situation, at what Dean had to endure to save her. She was horrified at how she acted and that finally getting to be with him seemed like a nail in the coffin to ever being with him.
"Are you okay?" Dean asked as she turned around and leaned against the side of the car, only flashing him a glance before looking at the ground or anywhere but at him.
As everything settled over her and the spell's effects wore off, Y/N decided she was definitely not okay. Her mind was in turmoil, torn between what Dean did for her and what he had to do to her. She had wanted him, wanted to be with him, for so long, but now everything was just wrong. She fought back her tears and attempted to bottle up her emotions inside with all the rest. She could see on his face how destroyed he looked, and she didn't want to add to his pain.
Instead, she nodded and swallowed hard, tears springing to her eyes. "Dean, I'm so sorry."
"What?"
"I-I'm sorry," she tried again, the tears falling despite her efforts. Once the dam broke, she couldn't stop. "I'm so sorry you had to do that."
"You shouldn't be sorry," he spoke, and through her tears, she could see he was just as broken as she. "I'm sorry. I did this to you, and I know I had to save your life, but I feel awful about it."
Y/N nodded in agreement, sniffling and wiping her face in vain as the tears continued to fall. Both her body and her mind felt shattered. As she wondered if she and Dean could even survive this, if their friendship could last beyond this awful thing, her heart broke further. He was her closest friend, an ally and hunting partner, and a man she knew she had fallen for long ago.
"I forgive you," Y/N insisted.
Dean shook his head against her words, "You should hate me, hit me, something."
"I hate the witch," Y/N said. "I could never hate you, Dean. I just couldn't," she shrugged, afraid to say more. But she knew he was beating himself up, which would only worsen. "It's okay," Y/N promised as she cautiously approached him.
Dean shook his head again but didn't stop her as she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, and they fell to their knees in the grass and dirt, still in each other's embrace, as they sobbed and apologized.
Neither was sure who moved first, but their lips connected in a deep, sweet kiss despite their tears. As they both desperately sought redemption from one another, Y/N ended up in his lap and his arms.
Every kiss, every touch, was laced with tears and apology; for what had happened, how it had happened, for the ugliness built into the spell by that damn witch.
Dean leaned into the kiss, using the momentum to lay her on the grassy ground gently. Words weren't needed, and the moment was too severe and heavy. Instead, they spoke with their bodies, through their kisses, through their hands as they removed clothes and caressed skin with fingertips. Y/N surprised him, rolling them over and grinding her hips down onto him before finally granting him reentry.
As Dean slid within her a second time, they were both ready and willing. The air was silent save for their breaths, the gentle slapping of their skin, and the sounds of nature alive under the full moon above. Still, it didn't hold the romanticism one might expect from such a moment, tinged with their sorrowful apologies against each other's skin, mending the hurt that came before.
Pushing him back onto the grass, Y/N sat atop his hips, grinding slowly and flexing her walls, paying attention to his every expression and sound. She wanted to show him that it was okay, that she forgave him, and thank him for what he did to save her. Leaning forward, she moved down his neck and across his chest, kissing apologies and forgiveness into his skin.
Dean couldn't help but feel more than that - feeling appreciated and, dare he say, adored. The combination of sensations sent his mind reeling and his body hurling toward another climax. Moving a hand from her hip to her clit, he rubbed tight circles that had her cumming hard and dragging him over the edge with her.
As they climaxed, one after the other, they seemed to melt into each other—a sense of relief, forgiveness, and cleansing washed over them. Y/N rolled off of him, laying on her back beside him as she caught her breath and eased the ache in her thighs.
Y/N was sure their friendship was intact and mended, but she didn't know where they stood. She was afraid to ask, especially after what he endured because of her - for her. They shared quiet and awkward smiles as they lay under the stars, catching their breath.
It was romantic, but she tried not to let her mind go there. Dean helped her, and she thanked him. She figured that was enough for him. But she couldn't get up and dressed until he moved first.
Dean felt awful after the first encounter, but the second time seemed to soothe that ache. He wanted to look at and enjoy her, and he wanted her to see him doing so. He thought, maybe now, despite everything, that this was his moment to show her how he felt.
Leaning over, Dean placed a delicate kiss on her collarbone. Sitting back on his knees, his eyes wandered over Y/N - splayed out on the grass, thoroughly fucked, the moonlight shining off her skin and his cum dripping from between her thighs - and the scene left him breathless.
For Y/N, there was no misunderstanding of Dean's touch or thoughts. He was very precise in that and good at it, too. She knew what he was thinking because it was the same feeling and thought she had. And now she was more than eager for it, for Dean the way she'd always wanted him.
Dean's heart raced, and his breathing picked up as his gaze traveled over her body and met her eyes. Somehow, after all the twisted events of the night, this moment finally felt like the one he'd been waiting for—dreaming of—for quite some time. The look in her eye matched him, her desire present, her body squirming for more as he admired it.
"You are stunningly beautiful, Y/N," Dean whispered reverently.
He wasn't sure how he was hard again after coming twice - other than the fact that it was Y/N - but he wasn't about to complain as he leaned over to kiss her. Her thighs parted, and he settled against her comfortably, kissing her deep and thorough like he always wanted. He needed to take his time to kiss, feel, and taste all of her.
He felt an urgency between them that drove him to prove himself and tell her everything through his touch. Time didn't exist; all thought and sense outside of the two of them disappeared as Dean took his time to worship her entirely.
With hands and mouth, Dean sought out every curve, ridge, and line as he mapped out her body and committed it to memory. His lips skimmed from her lips to her jaw, loving the soft moan she gave as he kissed behind her ear.
As his mouth encased a nipple, his fingers danced delicately across her dampened folds. Her hands flew to his head and tugged at his hair as her body arched into him. He slid a single finger slowly and deeply into her core, smirking when she moaned and spread her legs wider. After a moment, he added a second, and she ground her hips down against his hand, seeking more.
She was driving him insane in the best of ways. Her sounds, movements, and the way her body responded to him made his need to taste her urgent. He kissed his way down her body until he reached her core, his fingers still buried inside of her, stroking her walls. He kissed her clot gently before licking at it, sucking it in his mouth to torture it with his tongue.
Y/N gasped at the sensations as she tugged harder on his hair, holding him right where she needed him. She briefly worried about hurting him, but he gave no indication. Instead, he was focused, moaning into her pussy; his fingers and tongue worked in sync to drive her higher and higher. Once he found that special spot inside her, he grinned, and everything turned up to eleven.
Y/N came hard, wailing into the night. Dean removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue as he hungrily and eagerly drank down her juices, moaning along with her and rutting into the air. She was amazed at what he did and how he made her feel.
She tugged at him in an attempt to get him back to her lips and kissed him fiercely when he complied. Reaching between them, she pumped his hard cock before lining him up and urging him forward with one hand on his ass and the other on his lower back.
As he bottomed out, they both gasped into each other's mouths at the feeling of him sliding home. Despite having fucked twice already, this time felt brand new and long-awaited. Dean wanted to give in to his urges, to pound her hard and hear her begging him for more.
Instead, he went slow and steady, wanting to feel all of her and have her feel all of him, drawing it out as his hands and mouth never ceased. Y/N couldn't help but be loud, unable to keep quiet under Dean's attention and actions. But she figured it didn't really matter since he'd taken her to the middle of nowhere.
"Dean," Y/N moaned like a pornstar, too deep into her passions to even attempt to control herself. "Please, go faster," she begged, trying to rock her hips and urge him.
She was getting close again, her body still sensitive from their last rounds, and having Dean with her, inside of her finally, made her stamina near nothing.
"No," he mumbled against her throat, sucking a mark and maintaining his pace.
As she continued to buck, he pinned her hip down with one hand, staring her in the eye as he kept the same consistent, steady, and slow pace. He was just as desperate, but more importantly, he was on a mission. He wanted to prove himself, show her how he felt, and enjoy how he wanted their first coupling to be. He hoped there would be more times after this. He couldn't bear the thought of never having her again, not after this.
"Wanna feel you come for me," he spoke against her lips, kissing her hard as he rubbed her clit in time with his thrusts.
She gasped and bucked before she clenched hard around him. Dean followed behind, the two of them riding out a climax that damn near had them crying from the intensity and emotion held within. Dean collapsed against her with a sigh as her arms and legs wrapped around him, holding him close.
Groaning, Dean slowly withdrew and got to his feet, his body popping, cracking, and aching as he did so. Y/N grinned and giggled, accepting his offered hand as he helped her to her feet.
"We have to get back," Dean said before pecking her lips. "Sam's probably worried out of his mind."
They stole glances and giggled as they found their clothes and redressed. Dean took her into his arms again, kissing her soundly. With a sigh, he dropped his forehead to hers. He held her hand against his chest before raising it to kiss her knuckles.
"Ready?"
Y/N nodded and let him lead her to the Impala, climbing in through the driver's door and sliding to the passenger's as Dean climbed in behind her. The drive back was quiet, but they held hands on the seat space between them. Y/N's cheeks were hot, and she bit her lip as she realized they were moving forward together toward something more.
After parking at the motel, Dean helped her out of the car and walked hand-in-hand into the room. Sam immediately looked up, catching sight of their grins and interlocked hands. He breathed a sigh of relief and offered a lopsided grin.
"So…the spell's broken?"
"Yep," Y/N responded.
"And this," he gestured between them, "Is this a thing now?"
"Yep," Dean answered with a grin, squeezing her hand.
Sam's grin mirrored his brother's, knowing things could have been a lot worse, but in the end, it turned out better than either he or Dean could have hoped. Knowing how long he'd pined after Y/N, he was happy for his brother. He was also glad that she wouldn't mope about over his brother any longer.
"Good,” Sam smirked. “Live to die another day.”
FOREVERS:
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#live to die another day#dean winchester#sam winchester#dean x reader#dean x y/n#reader insert#supernatural#spn#supernatural fanfic#spn fanfic#dean winchester smut#smut#tw: noncon#tw: dubcon
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nowhere for you to stay (bucky barnes x reader)
content warnings: angst, allusions to depression (bucky, not reader), sad bucky, mental health, lack of self-care, female reader, this is basically just me venting about the terrible ending that they gave steve (he didn’t deserve this and neither did bucky nor me) word count: 1.5k a/n: so, i promise, i really am trying to finish my wips, but this came to me today while listening to renegade, also sorry for being m.i.a. for like three weeks but I spent easter with my family and had to recharge lol and then uni started again, so that kinda kicked my ass a little also, i watched thunderbolts* yesterday and it was great!!! (dw, this is spoiler-free)
You knocked on his door – three sharp, distinct sounds – and waited. For a few seconds you entertained the thought that Bucky wasn’t home. That he was out and about, doing something with his life. Maybe he had picked himself up and gone to the gym, or maybe he had finally deleted the various food delivery apps and instead had gone grocery shopping. But there was a faint whirring, locked behind the old wooden door to his apartment, a sound that belonged to a light turned on. The complex in which Bucky resided was old – not as old as the man himself but certainly bordering on it. Windows creaked when the wind was strong, the lighting flickered, and pipes groaned during the coldest months. He had moved here after returning from Wakanda and you had helped him set up his living space. You had begged and pleaded with him to rent a place closer to you, or to maybe even move in with you. But he had just shook his head and had looked at you with those heartbroken, empty eyes that seemed a little less blue and a little more grey since Steve was gone. So, you had helped carry the sparse amount of furniture and décor he had up to the fourth-floor apartment, had sorted spice containers of which you were sure that he hadn’t used them yet and had presented Bucky with a plant as a housewarming gift. He had smiled sadly and thanked you and you had known that the plant was not going to make it more than a week. Every day you called, every day he answered – for a limited time. Sometimes, the exchange was as short as thirty seconds, just enough for you to hear that he was still alive and not planning on changing that. Once a week, on Saturdays, you took the subway to visit him, to stay with him for a few hours. You never managed to convince him to get out of the apartment with you but at least you saw him. The last week had been different. He hadn’t answered your calls, only sent short messages (“I’m fine – can’t talk right now” or “let me call you back later”) and your heart ached every time the busy signal had echoed from your speaker. Of course, you hoped that it meant that he was actually busy, distracted, doing something. But the faint buzz of a burning lamp in his apartment told you that he was home. No matter what, Bucky always made sure to turn off all lights and close all windows before he left his place, so he must have been ignoring the knocking. To his credit, you were a day earlier than usual. It was Friday instead of Saturday, and you hadn’t announced yourself either, so he wasn’t expecting you. The silence, the unanswered calls had given you anxiety induced stomach pains, so you had taken the day off from work and had gotten an Uber to his place.
You knocked again and lightly cleared your throat – a chance for Bucky’s enhanced hearing to place you and for him to open the door. Still, the knob didn’t twist, the many locks he had put on additionally didn’t rattle and you could have sworn that the whirring of the lamp you had heard earlier died down. “Bucky,” you called out, “It’s me. Can you please open the door?” You waited. Seconds that felt like minutes ticked by and your hands got clammy as you shifted on your feet. “Bucky, you gave me a key. But I don’t wanna use it, so, please just let me in. Bu-,” before you could finish his name, you heard a series of noises. A pair of feet shuffling over creaky old floorboards, and what sounded like dishes being set down in the sink. Then you heard a window being ripped open – the frame squeaked terribly – and then the footsteps came closer. One lock was unlocked, then the second one. A metallic clank sounded and then the doorknob turned. The door opened with a squeak that made your teeth hurt. The apartment was dark, and despite the cold breeze that the recently opened window let in, it smelled dusty and faintly like old takeout food. “Hey.” One thing about Bucky is that he just could not lose his charm. He stood before you, eyebags darker than ever, brown curls unkempt and knotted, and his scruff on his cheeks a little longer than usual and asymmetrical – as if he had laid on one side for too long.
Despite his appearance, he leaned against the doorframe with a trace of his characteristic smile turning up his mouth corners. “Hi,” you replied, slightly perplexed. “I didn’t realise it was already Saturday,” he said after a few seconds of silence and attempted to swipe his hair from his forehead until he realised that it was too unbrushed to run his fingers through it. He awkwardly dropped his hand but gave you another smile. “It’s not,” you answered and peered past him. Before you could properly glance into his apartment, he moved into your eyeline, a determined look in his eyes. “Oh. Then what are you doing here?” He asked, shifting again when you tried to steal another glimpse into his living space. You took a few seconds before you replied during which you struggled not to be offended by his question. “You never called me back,” you explained then, and locked eyes with him. Heat rose on his face as you bluntly called him out and his hands again found their way into his hair, and again, he had to drop them back to his sides as he couldn’t nervously run them through. “Yeah, no, I meant to, but I… I was busy,” he stammered, blocking your third attempt to look past him. “Okay,” you murmured slowly, “Can you… would you mind letting me in?” Bucky chewed on his lip for a few seconds, and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to find a way to let you down gently. “Uh, now’s not a good time.”
Your heart sank even further as you tried to come up with reasonings with his behaviour. “Are you-,” you began, and stared at your feet instead of meeting his eyes, “Is someone in there with you?” His eyes went round with surprise before he composed himself. “What? No, no, I’m… I’m alone in here, but it’s just not, uh, a good time, like I said.” A little bit of the tightness in your chest loosened as he genuinely looked shocked at your implication. But you still couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t let you in. “Are you leaving? Like, are you going somewhere?” You inquired then, trying to find a reason that would satisfy you. Bucky stayed quiet before he shook his head. “No, nothing like that. Listen, doll, I just… I haven’t really prepared for visitors, or anything like that, so it’d be great if… um –,“ before he finished speaking, you could tell that he was having a hard time sending you back home. He knew how long the ride here was and that you usually worked on Fridays. “it’s just not a good time,” he concluded.
There was a faint line, so thin that it was barely visible, that you were threatening to cross right now. A line between what Bucky allowed you to see on the Saturdays when you visited him, and the rest of his life. “Just let me in,” you whispered. “Let me… help you.” The conflict in his eyes played out like a storm. Vulnerability and stubbornness raged against each other, as he seemingly weighed his options: allowing you in or pushing you away. Both seemed to frighten him as you heard how his metal arm whirred while he clenched and unclenched his fists. “Alright,” he mumbled and slowly stepped back. His apartment was in a terrible state. For someone who had very little furnishings, a tiny amount of clothes and basically no personal belongings it should have been easy to basically produce a clinically clean space. Instead, you saw instant food packaging, empty beer cans and ripped paper shreds sprawled across his couch table. You recognised the paper as an article about Steve – honouring his legacy and paying tribute to his sacrifice. You had read the same one a few days ago and had cried until your head hurt. The sofa cushions were crumbled up and uneven. A thin blanket laid on the floor as if it had fallen off or been pushed off in a hurry. He must have slept there instead of in his bed. The kitchen door was half closed, and through the gap you saw dishes towering dangerously, a towel haphazardly slung over them in an attempt to hide them. You turned to face Bucky, who refused to meet your eye. Instead, he clenched his jaw so tight that it must have hurt and stared out the opened window. “Bucky,” you whispered. “Like I said, I didn’t know you were coming.” His tone was defensive and sharp, but his eyes glistened as the shame burned in him. “Bucky, look at me,” you pleaded and took a few steps towards him. “This place is a mess,” he croaked, his voice heavy with unshed tears, “There’s nowhere for you to stay.” “But I’ll stay anyway,” you murmured and rested your hand on his cheek. “I’ll stay and help you.”
#x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fandom#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x you#marvel#mcu fandom#bucky fanfic#james buchanan barnes x reader#james bucky barnes x reader#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky x you#bucky x female yn#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes x female reader
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surprise | myg
this is an extra chapter of the so it goes series.
—pairing: rapper!yoongi x reader
—rating: +18
—genre: established relationship, ex fwb, angst, fluff
—warnings/tags: implied smut, lots of angst, fluff, subtle talk about aborti0n, DON’T trust my poor knowledge in contraceptive methods and use condoms!! english is not my first language btw
—words: 7.6k
a/note: this is proof that if you ask me enough, I'll finish writing my wips!! it's been a long time but I finally get to post the surprise drabble I've been planning and it makes me sososo happy to come back to this couple 😭 I missed them so much I just hope you missed them as much as I did!! BTW I was planning to post this after two other drabbles, so if you read any additional information it's because this was intended to be posted after that, but i wanted to post this so badly😭 so here it is!! hehe anyway enjoy!!
A few years ago, when you and Yoongi were beginning to be a thing and you still lived with your best friend, Nayeon, while he lived alone in his big apartment, he picked up this habit of begging you to stay the night with him every time you visited, even though he knew you couldn’t. You used to say no, trying hard to ignore the way he kissed your neck and sneaked his hands under your blouse while explaining that, if you said yes, he was willing to wake up early and drive you to your first class the next day. You'd think that after the first or maybe even the second time he tried this, the effect would wear off, but you ended up agreeing every single time.
Back then everything was so new to him, he couldn’t remember the last time he liked someone that much, he didn’t know what was happening to him and why he wanted to spend every night with you, why he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Sure you were pretty, sure you were beautiful and funny, and your lips tasted like strawberries and you looked at him like one else ever did, maybe it had something to do with that, who knew? The only thing he knew was that he felt like a teenager everytime you kissed him, or every time you ran your fingers through his hair or every time you were naked under him, or on top of him, or anywhere close to him for that matter.
It took Yoongi a few hits, ten drunk nights and way too many days to realize that you were the only thing that he needed, that the world only made sense if you were by his side.
With time, Yoongi learned to kiss slowly, to make love slowly, to take things with ease; he learned that you were going nowhere, but there were still those moments where he felt he couldn’t get enough of you; like tonight, to be exact.
You were sure that in the last four years of dating Yoongi you had made it clear enough that you were a city girl, and you were certain your boyfriend knew that. You loved the noise and the chaos—the people bumping into each other on the streets, the busy days and nights. It wasn’t something you planned to give up anytime soon; this was the perfect time in your life to embrace the city's hustle. You’d have plenty of time for a quiet life when you got older.
Yoongi liked the city too—he enjoyed the view from his apartment window and the convenience of ordering food at any hour of the night. But he also loved road trips and sleeping in the middle of nowhere in a tent, bonfires, fishing and swimming in lakes. Yoongi had always been into camping, but instead of planning a trip with his good old friend Seokjin, who didn’t mind sleeping in a tent and loved fishing, he invited you—someone who hated bugs and couldn’t stand the idea of walking more than three minutes to find a bathroom.
You were still trying to decide whether not being able to say no to Yoongi was a problem, but it was his last free week before going back on tour. When he looked at you with starry eyes and asked you to go on a trip with him, which included spending the last two days sleeping in a tent, you couldn’t say no.
It was only two days, you were sure you could endure not sleeping in a proper bed for that long if that made him happy, you made the effort of not complaining just for tonight, after all you only had tickets to go visit him on tour in exactly five weeks, you were going to miss him.
It was easy not to complain when Yoongi’s plans for your last night together were exclusively romantic; he cooked for you, built a campfire and spent the rest of the night stargazing until it was too cold to be outside, and when you were inside the tent he made sure to have hot water bags under the blankets, but they were no use when he was determined to get you naked.
Did you mention that it was still winter?
Now you were trapped in a tent with him, straddling him as he kissed you deeply and gripped your thighs, begging you to ride him against your lips. That was when you started to complain.
You felt your whole body shivering when Yoongi’s warm hands pulled your t-shirt over your head, leaving you almost naked. You hugged your torso, attempting to cover your breasts as you sat straight on top of your boyfriend, who was comfortably laying on the sleeping bag, fully clothed.
“Yoongi, I’m cold.” You whined.
“C’mon, it’s going to wear off” He tried to convince you, rubbing his palms over your shoulders to keep you warm. You shook your head, laying your head on his still clothed chest as he covered your bare back with the blanket. It was easy for him to say that when he was wearing sweatpants and a long sleeve t-shirt.
You knew that Yoongi was already missing you. He was fully aware that after tonight, he wouldn’t see you for a whole month and he wanted to make it last as long as he could, to hold you and kiss you as much as you let him. He had gotten too used to you—used to sleeping and waking up next to you, having you all to himself—but it became a problem every time he had to leave for work, it was impossible not to miss you. You still had texts, calls and FaceTime, but he was also taking into account time difference, work, and the fact that all of that wasn’t the real thing. And if you were honest, you were already missing him too.
“What if I catch a cold?” You mumbled over his shirt.
Yoongi kissed the top of your head, running his hands down your bare back and sending chills to your spine. How was he able to get you almost naked but you didn’t even get the chance to take off his t-shirt? “It’s not that cold.” He said, not willing to give up.
You raised your head to look at him, frowning “Says the person who’s still fully clothed.”
He huffed, flipping you over to leave you under him. Suddenly, warmth rushed over you as you felt his body hovering over your frame. He was quick to take off his own t-shirt, trying to make you happy, but he quickly realized that maybe you were right, it was fucking cold, but he wasn’t going to back down.
“Happy now?”
“No, it’s freezing out there!” You kept complaining “Why do we have to do it without clothes? I don’t mind clothes, I actually think that doing it while being dressed is quite hot.”
You threw your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. Even though you were in fact turned on from the kissing and grinding session you had a few moments ago, you still were thinking about the logistics of fucking inside the tent.
Yoongi scoffed, amused. “And I actually think that you being naked is quite hot, too.” He said, sneaking his face in the crook of your neck to trail down little kisses, nibbling the skin softly. “C’mon, baby. I won’t see you for weeks, let me make love to you.”
You tried not to roll your eyes. “You had been using that excuse the whole trip.” And you’ve fallen for it every time. His plans for this trip were very simple: fishing, camping and fucking you on every opportunity he had. It was not like you were against it, it has been a long time since you and him had time only for the two of you.
“But isn’t it true?” He gazed up, looking at you with his soft eyes, his hair falling like a curtain on his face. “I’m gonna miss you.”
You took a second to observe the tenderness of his features, to take in the softness of his voice, and for a moment there you knew why it was so hard to say no to him, you just didn’t want to say no.
You closed your eyes, scrunching your nose. “We are gonna make such a mess.” You whined, but he just chuckled, knowing he won.
“I’ll take care of it, I promise.” He said with a soft voice, reaching for your lips as he roamed his hands towards your chest. You didn’t exactly know how he was going to “take care of it”, but his hands were gentle, the kiss was slow and when he opened his mouth to let his tongue slip past your lips, you were too into it to keep protesting about it.
As you sat on the cold bathroom floor of the home you shared with Yoongi, you tried to remind yourself of two basic things that you hoped would stop the sinking feeling in your chest. First, three weeks without Yoongi never killed anyone, this was something you knew from experience, Yoongi’s job demanded him to travel all the time, you were used to it, or at least you were supposed to be. Second, you were an independent woman (right?). You have been an independent woman since you were eighteen when you moved to Seoul alone, since you started a new life in a new city on your own. You woke up at six am everyday, worked hard your whole shift, paid the bills every month and managed to keep your house in order every day of the week. Sure, you loved Yoongi, and he loved you, and you could never imagine a life without him, but you didn’t need him, you wanted him. He wasn’t an extension of you, you were your own person, but why did you feel like the world was about to end right now if he was not there?
Crying your heart out like a five year old kid, you remembered the only time you had to take a pregnancy test, and how it looked nothing like this.
Four years ago when you and Yoongi still didn’t kiss in front of your friends, when he still thought twice before holding your hand in public but still had the nerve of sneaking in your bed. That seemed like a hundred years ago, a universe away, but no, it was not too long ago when you were stubborn and kind of irresponsible for agreeing with him as he kissed your neck and ran his hands down your thighs while asking you if it was okay for him to “pull out” that night, since both of you completely forgot about condoms. You winced at the memory, but in your defense, you were too far gone to say no, take a cold shower and kiss him goodnight. You agreed only for that night, but three weeks later you were three days late and losing your mind, the only logical thing to do was to take a pregnancy test that, of course, came negative, but to this day you couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that you felt in your stomach those minutes before the negative sign appeared, and you couldn’t forget how pale Yoongi’s face turned when you told him about it.
And now you were there, one hand covering your face while the other held a pregnancy test—only this time, it was positive.
The one on your hand wasn’t the only one, no. There were two other positive tests laying on the floor in front of you, and even if you wanted to not trust the results, they couldn’t be all wrong, right? The plus sign was very clear in each one of them and you were five days late. The problem was that you were on the pill, you had been on the pill for the last couple years and this never happened to you, this wasn’t something normal or a simple mistake.
You breathed out, trying not to panic. You got up on your bare feet to look at yourself in the mirror. You were a mess, that was not a surprise at all, your face was all swollen for the amount of time you have been crying and your hair was a big nest above your head. You washed your face, attempting to remain calm and evaluating your options. You glanced at your phone resting on the sink, and an overwhelming urge to call your mother surged within you, but as you imagined how the conversation would go, you quickly realized it wouldn’t be a good idea.
Your mother was not nosy, but she could be a little dense, a bit complicated, and it was not what you needed right now. You were sure that calling her while having a mental breakdown was going to drive her crazy, and consequently, drive you crazy too. She would want to know every single detail, date, place and hour to understand the situation better, and you would have to explain something you didn’t even understand yet. You could imagine the conversation, she would try to explain every contraceptive method like you were a teenager and ask why you didn’t use a condom, because you knew she would ask, and you didn’t want to explain to her how you went on vacation with your boyfriend to have a bunch of condomless sex, the thought alone made you want to vomit.
Calling your mother was not an option, not only because talking to her on the phone was complicated enough, but because she was in a different city, which brought you to discard calling Nayeon too, who was on vacation with her boyfriend (yes, boyfriend, that sounded ridiculous to you, too.)
The last option was something you couldn't even fathom doing unless you were desperate, but you know what they say, desperate times call desperate measures, so you blew your nose, brushed your hair and called the only person in this city who would come running without asking any questions, Jungkook.
Breaking the news to the person in front of you wasn’t easy, especially when the words you needed to say were as unreal as they sounded. You didn’t look much better, you spent the next thirty minutes that Jungkook took to arrive crying, as Holly, the brown fluffy dog, looked at you like you just went mad, the worst thing was that you weren’t far from it. It was difficult to keep it together when your mind refused to look at the bright side of things, when you couldn’t call your mom and Yoongi was in another country, but when Jungkook rang your bell and entered through the door, you tried your best to smile at him and act like you weren’t in the middle of a mental breakdown.
Your act wasn’t convincing, your friend looked at you like you were about to tell him that you killed someone and you needed help to hide the body.
You would have never recur to a man other than Yoongi for this kind of situation, but you decided to trust your ten years of friendship with the man in front of you and hope that he could be of any help.
“You are what?” Said Jungkook, standing in the middle of the living room with his eyes wide open, trying to understand the meaning of your words.
There, in your pajamas and your hands on your hips, you closed your eyes shut, sighing. “Jungkook…” You said through gritted teeth.
“I’m serious.” He said, letting his backpack drop to the floor. “I crossed half the city to get here, are you not kidding me right now?”
“I’m serious, too!” You whined “I’m not kidding, I don’t know what to do.”
He slowly approached you, walking towards the couch to take a seat. He suddenly felt his blood pressure dropping, his stomach sinking and his mouth dry as if he was the one developing a human organism inside his body. “Are you sure?” He murmured. “Are you not having one of those crises you had when you were a teenager? I remember that time in college when you freaked out when you thought you were pregnant because some guy-”
“Jungkook, I’m sure.” You interrupted him, already knowing the whole story, but this time it was not just you overreacting. “My period is late and I took three tests, all positive.”
He gulped, letting the room fall silent for a few seconds as both of you contemplated what that meant. You knew he was trying his best not to freak out, so you were grateful for his reaction, at least he didn’t faint like you expected him to do, but he was still white as a sheet, trying to find a solution in his head as though you had told him he was the one who was going to be a father.
“What are we gonna do?” He said under his breath.
“What am I gonna do?” You corrected him, sitting next to him “You are supposed to help me.”
Jungkook took one hard look at you, looking terrified. “How?”
“God, I shouldn’t have called you.” You rolled your eyes.
“No, I mean, what do you want to do?” He said. “Did you tell Yoongi?”
“Of course not.” You replied, feeling your eyes getting teary, but still trying to hold back.
“Do you want to… tell him?” He continued to ask.
You sniffed “I mean, I don’t know how.” You pouted “I’m seeing him in two weeks, I don’t know if I can wait that long.”
He threw himself back against the couch, sinking in the cushions. It was like Jungkook’s life flashed before his eyes, how come he was discussing this with you right now? He still felt like you were kids, there was no way you were pregnant right now. “How did this happen?” He murmured to himself, looking at the blank wall in front of him.
“Is it necessary for me to explain it?” You cried, snuggling closer to him as you rested your head on his shoulder.
“Did you not use condoms?” He scolded you like he was your mother.
You shifted your weight uneasily, eyes darting down to your socks. “We don’t… use condoms.” You cleared your throat, the words coming out hushed and hesitant. “I’m on the pill, I don’t know what happened.”
On second thought, that wasn’t something Jungkook wanted to know. It was like finding out how his parents had sex, he squirmed at the thought, shifting in his place. “Can you not call your doctor?” He suggested, his voice laced with uncertainty.
You paused, considering it. It was probably the most logical thing Jungkook could say, but you weren’t sure if your doctor could do anything about it.
“Even if I call her and tell her what's going on, it’s not like I can get a refund.” You huffed, a dry smile tugging at your lips.
He raised an eyebrow. “Well…” he began, dragging the word out. “In some way, you could get a refund.” You blinked at him, opening your eyes wide in surprise. “I mean only if you want to!”
You were so nervous you wanted to laugh. It wasn’t like the thought didn’t cross your mind for a moment, but only when you tried to evaluate your options; if you were being honest, you couldn’t see yourself getting rid of the baby—or whatever organism had been living rent-free in your body for the past three weeks. Jungkook looked terrified that you might explode at him, especially when it seemed like you were on the verge of tears, but his question made you think, if you didn’t want to get rid of it, what was that you wanted to do?
You sank your shoulders, feeling completely lost. “That’s the problem.” You murmured “I don’t know if I want a refund.”
Jungkook stood still for a moment, his eyes softening as he watched you. His thoughts swirled, trying to grasp the weight of your words.
"Would Yoongi want a refund?" He asked, his tone lighter than before, but the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. Despite the attempt at humor, his eyes betrayed the concern he was masking with the joke.
A shaky exhale left your lips, the weight of uncertainty pulling you down. “I don’t know…” Was the only thing you could say.
“But do you know if Yoongi wanted… kids?” He said as if that was a forbidden word. “I mean, do you want them?”
It wasn’t like you didn’t know what Yoongi wanted. You sighed, suddenly remembering all those times when the idea of a family came up in conversations, between drunken thoughts, before falling asleep, at dinner with his parents and on the ride home when he apologized on his mother’s behalf when she asked when you were going to give her grandchildren. His soft eyes, his hand on your tight and the view of the future laying in front of you like a promise. The thought warmed your heart for a moment, but the truth was that there was a difference between talking about it and actually having kids.
“We’ve talked about it…” You admitted. “But we’ve never planned it, let alone now that he’s on tour.”
Jungkook hummed, still thinking.
“But you both agreed to have kids at some point.” He affirmed, and you just nodded.
It was in that moment where you realized you were crying again, tears slowly falling down your cheeks as you stood in silence, contemplating the overwhelming weight of the situation.
“Fuck, don’t cry.” Jungkook said, rushing to wrap his arms around you, he enveloped you in a tight hug. As soon as you buried your face into his chest, something inside you gave away. You began sobbing against his hoodie, the tears flowed freely and uncontrollable, unable to hold yourself back. “C’mon, it’s okay, you’re okay. Nothing bad’s gonna happen.” His voice was soft but firm, holding you tightly. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb gently wiping away a tear from your cheek, his gaze filled with nothing but concern. “You don’t need to have it all figured out right now. Let’s go step by step, okay?”
You nodded, feeling like a kid lost in the mall. “Okay, if you want to see him as soon as possible, you have to change your flight first.” He said, but you shook your head, trying not to panic.
“He’s going to ask why.” You said, your voice hoarse “What am I going to tell him?”
He kept silent, his eyes fixed on a distant point as he was trying to come up with a solution.
“Let’s not tell him.” He proposed.
“What do you mean let’s not tell him?”
“I’m leaving for tour next weekend, you should come with me and not tell him.” He kept going “Say that you missed him and you wanted to surprise him or some shit like that, and when you get him alone you talk to him about this.”
Now you were reminded that Jungkook had to leave to join Yoongi on tour in just a few days, you completely forgot about that. It was not like you couldn’t get on an airplane alone, but if your friend was going to be there you were sure it would make things easier.
You couldn’t believe it. After so many years you were there, sad and upset and still with the same idiot as a friend, willing to follow whatever plan he was going to make for you. You didn’t know if the plan actually sounded good or you were losing your mind for listening to Jungkook.
“Jungkook, Yoongi texts me all the time, he facetimes me everyday. It’s impossible to travel to another country without him noticing.”
“It’s not impossible, I’m gonna help you.” He insisted “If he texts you, you say you’re at home, if he wants to facetime you, you say you’re busy, turn off your location, it shouldn't be difficult.”
“It is difficult, what if he realizes I turned off my location?” You groaned, running your finger through your hair exasperatedly.
“You say it stopped working or something! C’mon, I thought you were smarter than me.”
You threw yourself back against the couch, crossing your arms on your chest, it was almost comical that you were considering the idea. Your friend could sense the hesitation in every move you made, he could only hope that you agreed because his mind couldn’t come up with another idea if his life depended on it.
“Jungkook, if he suspects anything…” You raised a finger, digging it on his chest.
“He won’t suspect a thing,” He affirmed confidently. “When have any of my plans ever gone wrong? Never. Trust me, by the time you get back home, you’ll have already decided to name your baby after me.”
You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your laugh and punching him in the arm playfully. The tension was still there, and you still felt an inexplicable ache in your chest that wasn’t going away anytime soon, but being there with Jungkook made you feel that this wasn’t the end of the world, nor of your life, but the beginning of it.
Jungkook's plan wasn’t the master plan he had been bragging about the whole airplane ride, but it worked. A few days later, after a few calls and arrangements to change your flight, after another three mental breakdowns and several crying sessions in the shower, you had somehow arrived in Berlin without Yoongi suspecting a thing. You had managed to dodge facetime calls and weird questions, maybe Yoongi missed you so much that he didn’t have time to question why you couldn’t wait two more weeks to see him when you arrived at the hotel and hugged in the hall, because, if he were honest, he couldn’t wait two more weeks to see you either.
Yoongi was happy with the surprise, you went to see his show that night and after arriving to his hotel room he made love to you like he hadn’t seen you in a year, kissing your neck, grabbing your waist, murmuring things in your ear, saying how much he loved you, how much he missed you. For a moment it was like nothing changed, the two of you sharing what happened these last three weeks tangled between sheets, laughing between kisses as you ignored why you were there in the first place.
“You can’t keep spending time away from me.” He said, hovering over you as he left a small kiss on your lips. “I’ll keep you in my pocket if it’s necessary.”
You sighed, knowing that you couldn’t keep this a secret for much longer, but for tonight, you’ll let it slide.
You didn’t know when you were returning home, but you promised yourself that before leaving for the next city, you would have to break the news to Yoongi, which was becoming more difficult by the second, because if you were good at something, that was procrastinating. It was absurd, a few days ago you were crying because all you wanted to do was to have your boyfriend by your side and now you couldn’t even look him in the eye without feeling like you were about to throw up, and your mind wasn’t helping at all. All those doubts invaded your head, attempting to drive you crazy, making you believe you were not ready to tell him yet.
Three days later, when you finished the last show in Berlin, Jungkook gave you a knowing look as you were leaving the arena holding Yoongi’s hand. He knew that you haven’t said a thing to Yoongi yet, he was all over you like he was your mother, asking you if you were okay, if you needed anything, when you were going to tell Yoongi, it almost made you regret telling him, but you knew he was right.
A night was all you needed, just one night to gather your thoughts and practice what you were going to say. You couldn’t keep declining glasses of wine forever, you could only hope no one noticed how weird you were acting, how sensitive you were since you stepped foot out the plane. Time was running out; you knew that when Yoongi invited you to an after-party before the whole crew left Berlin. Instead of telling him the truth, you simply said you weren’t in the mood to go, hoping that your time alone would help to gather enough courage to confess.
You weren’t trying to keep Yoongi with you, you told him a million times that he should go without you and that there was no problem with it. You hid under the blanket and hugged your body, watching him change his shirt into a black tee. He ran his finger through his hair in an attempt to tame it, looking at himself into the mirror and stealing a glance towards your reflection. He knew you too well not to notice the sad expression on your face as you scrolled through your phone, searching for a Disney movie to watch while he was out. He turned around, approaching the bed and kneeling beside you to catch your eyes.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” He asked once again.
“Yeah, I just need one night.” You said, which was true. You needed a few more moments to finish fighting with your own thoughts.
“But are you okay?” He continued to ask, cupping your jaw in his palm.
“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” The words came out of your mouth with more emotion than you intended to, he couldn’t ignore it.
“I don’t know… You look like you want me to stay.”
There was a beat of silence in the room. The sweetness of his voice broke your heart into a million pieces. You couldn’t say yes and make him stay just because you were feeling down and you really had no problem with him leaving, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him no either. You were full of contradictions, wanting to be alone but wanting to be with him at the same time, something in your chest pulled, wanting him close.
“What makes you think that?” You murmured, fighting the urge to cry. God, you were too sensitive.
“Mmm… The Disney movie kinda gives you away.”
You huffled, playing with the fingers of his hands without looking at him. “I don’t want to ruin your fun… You should go, I mean it.”
He scoffed “You won’t, there’s going to be a bunch of parties until the tour ends, this one is nothing.”
“They’ll miss you…”
“You’ll miss me, too.”
“But do you want to stay, though?” You asked him a whisper.
“Of course I want to… But you have to let me choose the movie.” He warned, automatically making you giggle.
Letting Yoongi choose the movie was the worst decision you have made in the last week so far, but you felt grateful he couldn’t see you as he hugged your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, because as the ending of Inside Out approached, you were sure you were about to cry.
When you arrived at the airport you promised yourself not to cry anymore, not in front of Yoongi at least, but your body was full of emotions you didn’t even know you could feel. It was certain that you’ve always been a sensitive person, you cried at the drop of a hat, Yoongi was familiar with that, but now it was impossible to stop it.
You’d stopped paying attention to the screen entirely; one by one, your darkest thoughts crept in, pressing heavily on your chest. The feelings you’d tried so hard to bury rose up, churning uneasily in your stomach, and when you least expected it, tears began to fall down your cheeks.
A sob escaped from your lips at the same time the main character began to cry, making your boyfriend shift in his place.
“Are you crying?” Yoongi suddenly asked, softly grabbing your shoulder to turn you around. He looked at your face, at first amused, thinking you were crying because of the movie. But his expression softened when he saw the sadness in your eyes and the damp lashes heavy with tears. You covered your face, unable to hold back, and the sobs came harder, each one swallowing the words you couldn’t say. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He reached for your arms, attempting to pull them away from your face, but you turned away, burying your face in the pillow.
“Nothing,” You lied, desperate to avoid this conversation again. “I’m just… emotional, I don’t know.” Your voice cracked, hoarse, as the emotions you were trying to hide slipped through.
Yoongi was confused, but mostly worried. You had been weird since the day you arrived, he would be a fool not to notice.
He turned the light of the lamp on the nightstand, illuminating the room with a soft orange light and turned the tv off.
“Hey, look at me.” He softly said, brushing your hair with his fingers, it only made you want to cry harder. “I know something’s up, I’m not a dummy.”
You turned to him, hitting him with the most heartbreaking sight he could witness, your face soaked in tears, nose and eyes red as you pouted at him. What was so wrong to make you cry like that?
“What do you know?” Was the only thing you could say, daring to be upset at him when he hadn't done anything wrong.
He frowned at your tone. “Well, I know that you suddenly came here two weeks earlier just because. You are weird, you almost don’t eat, your suitcase is almost untouched like you’re going to leave anytime soon, you look… sad? I don’t know, baby, you tell me.”
You kept silent for a second, wiping the tears with the sleeve of your t-shirt. Uncomfortable, you sat in the bed, taking a deep breath as your mind completely blanked. You didn’t realize yet, but there was no way to get out of this one.
Contrary to popular belief, your boyfriend was kind of a dummy. You confirmed it when he decided to say the following words.
“Is it because of Lily?” He said, making you dart your eyes at him. “You don’t like her being here?
You couldn’t blame Yoongi for not understanding why you were crying, but the suggestion that you were jealous of one of his coworkers made you want to punch him. Lily was one of the new producers at Yoongi’s label, and a few months ago, Yoongi had noticed that you were starting to feel uneasy about the amount of time she was spending with him, which led him to realize that you were beginning to feel unexpectedly jealous of her. Yes, that was a whole deal back then, but it was water under the bridge now; the fact that she was touring with him and the boys didn’t faze you. The idea that he thought you were crying because of her was ridiculous.
“Yoongi, are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not.” He defended himself. “The last time I saw you we were fine, but now you’re here crying and I don’t have a clue what I did wrong.”
Suddenly, you felt your heart sink. He hadn’t done anything wrong; it was you who was an emotional wreck, struggling to keep your feelings in check. A wave of guilt washed over you for the mess you’d just created, convinced there must have been ways to prevent all this conflict. But now, all you could do was sit there, tangled in the aftermath of your own emotions.
You sighed, defeated. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You said “And it’s not about Lily, I couldn’t care less about that… It’s just that- … Yoongi…”
“Baby…” He said in the same tone as you, “What is it?”
As Yoongi’s gentle question hung in the air, you felt a knot tighten in your chest. The truth sat heavy on your tongue, you glanced away, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, buying time as your thoughts spiraled. “Yoongi, my period is late.” You confessed, observing Yoongi’s eyes go wide, his brows lifting in surprise as he tried to understand what he just heard. “It’s been a week now, I don’t know what happened. I tried to wait, but I had to take a test”
“A test?” he asked, voice low, surprise flickering in his eyes.
“A pregnancy test, Yoongi.” You said, trying not to roll your eyes. “I took three damn tests.”
“And what-... what happened?” He asked, his voice unsteady, eyes fixed on yours.
The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thick with unspoken fears and questions. A quiet stillness settled between you both, there was a weight to the silence, stretching out the seconds as you waited for whatever words would come next.
“I mean, guess what happened,” you whispered. Before you could finish the sentence, you got up and reached for the zipper on your suitcase pocket. Your hand closed around the large object, and you felt his eyes on the back of your neck, following you as you moved around the hotel room. Returning to the bed, you sat down and handed him the pregnancy test.
Yoongi didn’t know anything about pregnancy tests—he’d never needed to. He’d always been careful, using protection with every girl he’d been with, including you, until things had started to get serious. So no, he wasn’t familiar with the variety of pregnancy tests out there. But now, here he was, staring at a white stick with a tiny screen, showing a clear positive sign, which could only mean one thing.
Yoongi’s hands trembled slightly as he held the pregnancy test, his gaze locked onto the tiny screen, staring at it for a moment, speechless. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud enough that he thought you might hear it. Now everything made sense, how you said you were nauseous in the morning, each time you refused to drink wine, how you looked like you were about to cry when you saw a stroller with twins this afternoon at the park. How could he not notice?
You pressed your lips together, feeling the familiar sting of tears welling up once more. A small, shaky hiccup escaped your lips, breaking the silence and snapping him out of his daze. “No, no, no,” He murmured urgently, setting the test aside and pulling you close, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist as you buried your face in your hands, trying to hold back the tears. “Hey, there’s no reason to cry,” He whispered, gently guiding your face up, his fingers lifting your chin as he coaxed your hands away. “C’mon, look at me.” His voice was soft, reassuring, his gaze full of warmth and understanding.
“I don’t know how it happened.” You blurted out, your voice shaking with uncertainty.
“That doesn’t matter now, why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, you could tell he was trying to remain calm by the soft tone of his voice, but his face had gone as white as paper, like he’d just seen a ghost.
“I arranged the flight to see you as soon as possible, but... I was scared. I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t,” you admitted, your words barely a whisper.
“Baby, you don’t have to be scared, okay? You can tell me anything.” He assured you, his hand gently squeezing yours. But the uneasy feeling in your stomach refused to go away.
“I know, but… we haven’t planned for this,” you murmured, glancing down. “It just… came out of nowhere.”
“Well, it didn’t exactly come out of nowhere. These things can happen,” he said gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. You groaned, burying your face in his chest.
“But it wasn’t supposed to happen,” you whined, your voice muffled against him. “I didn’t expect this at all. I was drowning in work when I found out. I’m stressed, I’m lost, I don’t know what to do… and I miss my mom.” The words tumbled out in a frantic ramble, and you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the soft laugh he let slip.
“You miss your mom?” he asked softly, careful not to upset you further.
“Yes!” you cried, voice cracking. “I feel like a kid lost in the supermarket.”
He shook his head gently and brushed away your tears with his thumbs, pulling you closer. “Baby…” he began, his tone soothing.
“Yoongi…” you whispered, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His expression was still worried, but the warmth in his eyes was reassuring.
“You’re right, we didn’t plan this. But we’ve talked about it before, and you have options. Whatever you choose, I’ll be right here beside you, no matter what. You know that, don’t you?” He searched your eyes for confirmation, and you nodded, feeling the ache in your chest begin to ease.
As his words sank in, a new wave of emotions stirred inside you. The weight of worry and loneliness began to ease, replaced by a warmth that softened the ache in your chest.
“But… what do you think?” you asked softly. You knew that whatever you decided would ultimately be your choice only, but you needed to know what was going on in his mind.
He sighed, a hint of hesitation in his expression. “I mean… we’re not sixteen, baby. We’re adults, we’re about to buy a house together, and we love each other.”
“Well, those are just facts,” you replied, searching his face. “What I mean is… do you want this, now?”
It was hard for Yoongi to believe you were really asking this. There you were, sitting on his lap with swollen eyes and a red nose from crying, asking him if he wanted to start a family with you—as if that hadn’t been his dream all along. Of course he felt like the life he had been living was going to completely change from now on. It was terrifying, but he couldn’t help but feel excited at the same time.
“I've always wanted it, are you serious?” He laughed, the sound light but filled with disbelief. “And I only want it with you, haven’t I made it clear enough?”
Those were the main differences between the two of you: while he was calm, always taking a moment to think before acting, you were emotional and, more often than not, let your feelings take control of your actions. It was only in that moment that you realized how irrational you’d been. There wasn’t a world where Yoongi didn’t want this, and there certainly wasn’t a world where you didn’t want it either.
“I want it, too,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought back tears.
“Then why are you crying, huh?” he asked gently, squeezing your face in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“Because...” you said, struggling to catch your breath. “Maybe you didn’t think it was the right time... You’re on tour right now.”
He frowned, his expression softening with concern. “I won’t be on tour forever...”
“I know, but... we’re not married. What would your parents think?”
He let out a laugh, clearly unable to believe that was a real concern of yours. “You’re not seriously thinking about my parents right now, are you?”
“How could I not?” you said, raising your eyebrows. “What if they force us to marry? God, I don’t want to be one of those couples who only marry because the girl is suddenly pregnant!”
He laughed even harder, shaking his head. “Oh my god, baby, no one’s forcing us to do anything!” He grinned, clearly finding your worry amusing. “If we ever get married, it won’t be because anyone pressured me. Trust me.” He paused, happy to see that the worried expression abandoned your face. “Besides, my parents love you, you have no idea how happy they’ll be once they know. Married or not.”
“Yoongi, it can’t be that simple.”
“But it is.”
You sighed, feeling like all the mess you’d made was for nothing—and thank God it was. You’d been so caught up in your own despair that you hadn’t realized everything in your life was falling into place for this to happen. Yoongi was right. You were about to move into a bigger home, you had your job, Yoongi had his, and you loved each other. You've always wanted it, this was the perfect moment for this to happen. Why had you been so worried?
“You’re right, it is.” You finally admitted, letting your body rest against him.
Yoongi laughed, gently grabbing you by your hips and laying you on the bed, kissing you softly. “You don’t have to worry, baby, not with me.”
“I know.” You breathed out, feeling like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. “But I am-… I’m so scared. How am I gonna have a baby? It sounds crazy.”
“Of course it does, it is.” He said “I’m terrified, too, but we’re together, right? Nothing bad can happen if we have each other.”
You nodded, feeling your chest unclench. “I guess you're right,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I just... needed to hear you say it.”
Yoongi smiled, leaning down to steal another kiss from you, this time deeper, longer. “I love you, baby, don’t you know that?”
You brushed your nose against his, nodding. “I love you, too, bubba.”
“C’mon, baby, stop crying.” He said, making you laugh.
#fic: so it goes#yoongi x reader#yoongi fanfiction#yoongi fanfic#bts x reader#bts smut#min yoongi fanfic#min yoongi x oc#yoongi fic recs#yoongi imagine#yoongi fluff#yoongi smut#yoongi fic#bts masterpost#bts fic rec#yoongi bts#bts one shot
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WIP Wednesday 🦵
Ok so I have been slowly chipping away at physio fic. It may not be out when I said tho because I have been focusing on driving and also studying for an exam I have next week asjdashkdha but I will get it out eventually. Let me know if you want to be tagged when it’s posted. Anyway here's a mostly canon scene + Tommy <3
The doctor looks at Buck. He can feel his eyes studying him like he can see right through his guilt. “Did it come out of nowhere?” the doctor asks pointedly. “No pain or tenderness in the leg? Skin discolouration, swelling?”
Buck swallows. He can see Tommy and Maddie both looking at him out of the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t make eye contact. Can’t look at their faces. “I— I just thought I pulled a muscle or something.” He’s not lying, he’s not. He didn’t know. Or maybe he just didn’t want to think about anything else going wrong.
He sighs. “Okay, I— I’ve been training for my LAFD recertification test—”
“—He’s been pushing himself, hard,” Tommy adds, and Buck shoots him a glare only to be met with a soft expression of concern that only has him feeling guiltier.
The doctor nods. “Well, it's not surprising. Training hard can lead to dehydration, which can increase the risk of clots.”
So it’s his fault. He wasn’t taking care of himself. Not drinking enough water. He’s such an idiot.
“I’m sorry…” Tommy whispers next to him, placing a gentle hand on his leg.
Buck blinks up at him confused. “It’s not your fault? I don’t—”
“I saw how hard you were pushing yourself, and I didn’t stop you, even when I wanted to. I should’ve—”
“Tommy,” Buck says seriously. “I wouldn’t have listened to you. I— I didn’t listen to you. And— and Eddie. I thought I could handle it.” Buck looks back to the doctor, suddenly feeling too vulnerable. “Okay, um, well, great. Look, I— I'm not dead. You–You found the clots. When can I get out of here?”
He needs to get out of here. Needs to get far away from the sympathetic looks of his sister and his— Tommy. Needs to get out of the hospital and back in uniform and fighting fires and— and helping people. That’s where he belongs.
“We'll move you to a room. Keep you on the anticoagulants. Tomorrow, we'll run some more tests. And then, we'll see where to go from there.”
We’ll… see? Buck does not like the sound of that. The room is starting to feel smaller again. He blinks, takes a breath. He can’t do this.
Tommy pats his leg. “Thanks, Doc. You know what, I'm gonna— I’m gonna go tell everyone that you're okay. Let them know that you're staying awhile, all right?”
“Tom—” Buck starts, but Tommy’s already out the door, without so much as a second glance.
WIP Wednesday tags: @bidisasterevankinard @diazheartsbuckley @your-catfish-friend @eowon @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @rainbow-nerdss @diazsdimples @wikiangela @underwaterninja13 @daffi-990 @aspecbuddie @tizniz @monsterrae1 @hippolotamus @actualalligator @pirrusstuff @actuallyitsellie @bucksbignaturals @spotsandsocks @loucifersbitch @snarkythewoecrow @lavenderleahy @911varietyposts @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @buffaluff @weewookinard @xofemeraldstars @hyperfocusthusly @sherlocking-out-loud @desert--moonchild @swagmaster9k @bigfootsmom @laundryandtaxesworld @toxicpositivitybuddie @buckhastwohands lmk if you want to be added or removed
#yall send me motivation to write this fic PLS 👉🏽👈🏽#bucktommy physio fic#bucktommy#911 fandom#911 abc#911 fanfic#911 wip#purple writes#evan buck buckley#evan buckley
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