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spiicii · 3 days ago

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the usos / guard dogs (part three)

x fem!reader word count → 5.3k summary → the dynamic between the three of you has changed, but you aren’t sure why. the twins are sullen and moody - picking fights with any man that even looks at you. it’s clear they want something. they just don’t know how to ask for it. links → part one / part two / masterlist / taglist tags → switch!usos, possessive and toxic behavior, violence, poor communication, rough sex, dom/sub, unprotected piv sex, spit roasting, blowjobs, bruises, hickeys, hair pulling, biting, oral (fem receiving), handjobs, praise kink, pet play (they’re loyal guard dogs, what did we expect?)

Your knees were sore from how long they��d kept you here and you were thankful that you’d at least made it to the carpeted bedroom before they’d pounced on you. Your eyelids fluttered as Jey’s cock pushed deeper down your throat, his grip on your hair unforgiving as he held you in place. Meanwhile Jimmy continued to pound into you from behind, his perfect dick hitting your g-spot with every thrust, causing pleasure to lick across your tired limbs like wildfire.

You liked it like this. That wasn’t a secret. It’s what drew you to the Usos in the first place. You were more than happy to wear their bruises on your hips and their bite marks on your neck. They fucked you like animals, eyes wild and canines flashing. These men were not gentle, nor did you want them to be. You allowed the treatment, even relished in it, your body going limp as their teeth sunk deep into your neck, claiming you as theirs.

You were done trying to deny how good it felt to have these two Samoan gods as your protectors. Everywhere you went they were by your side, ensuring that everyone you met knew exactly who you belonged to. And whenever another man even looked in your direction, you couldn’t pretend that you didn’t like seeing your bodyguards scare the man away, curling their lips in warning.

It was toxic.

And it was addicting.

Even now as they fucked you on the floor, their movements frenzied and their thrusts brutal, you were in heaven. They were so good at giving you what you wanted, always bordering that fine line between pain and pleasure. And although it was a little strange that they couldn’t have waited until you got to the bed, you certainly weren’t complaining, no matter how much the carpet burn on your knees stung.

You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes as Jey continued to piston in and out of your mouth, his balls slapping against your chin with every thrust. You tried to use your tongue to make him feel good, but it was useless. His cock was simply too big, his movements too fast for you to do anything but take it.

Jimmy’s fingers were digging into your sides as he fucked you from the back, his long digits pressing into old bruises they’d left there yesterday. You felt your knees slip on the carpet and you hissed at the sting, though it quickly turned into a moan as Jimmy yanked you back into position, his massive shaft continuing to drill in and out of you.

You marveled at how their movements were always in sync. Everything about them was. They would often joke that they had the ‘4 Ts’ - Tag Team Twin Telepathy - but when they both came at the exact same time, filling your insides with their hot, sticky seed, you began to suspect that it might be true.

Their finish triggered your own, pleasure unfurling from your core at the feeling. You felt lost in ecstasy, your body completely pliant and submissive beneath their strong hands. You would have collapsed on the floor had they not caught you, their touch gentle now, their hands no longer seeking to bruise.

You could feel them pepper your body with sweet kisses - wordless apologies for how rough they’d been. Their strong bodies surrounded yours, their arms cradling you as they murmured words of praise for just how good you were. You were in a daze, a soft smile on your lips as one of the twins kissed your forehead.

As you came down from your post-orgasmic bliss, you couldn’t help but notice something foreign twinkling in Jey’s eyes. It was a strange look, something you hadn’t seen before, but you were too out of it to fully understand what you were seeing.

“What is it?” You asked. Your voice was wrecked from how hard he’d pounded your throat.

Jey swallowed, looking uncertain. His eyes flashed to his twin and you turned your head slowly, meeting Jimmy’s gaze. He had the same look as his brother - something unfamiliar that you wanted to name but couldn’t.

You let out a distressed noise, now concerned. “What is it? Tell me.”

Then the look was gone - blown away, as if by the wind.

Jimmy flashed you a winning smile. “Nothing, baby. It’s alright.”

You looked back at Jey and he mirrored his brother’s smile, leaning down to kiss your lips in reassurance.

You tried to ask again but they were quick to shush you, carrying to the bed to massage your sore muscles.

Looking back, you wish you hadn’t let it go. You should have pushed more. You should have seen the signs. Unfortunately, it would take much more for you to finally get the picture.

*****

You knew that things had been different after the last incident at the bar. Something had shifted in the dynamic between the three of you - a faceless, nameless change that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Possessiveness was normal for them, but the way they’d been treating you since that night now bordered on controlling. They hardly ever let you leave the house anymore, even to go to work. Whenever you did go out, you had at least one guard dog by your side at all times, their temper flaring whenever a man even looked in your direction.

To make matters worse, they seemed to be actively looking for fights. As much as they enjoyed confrontation, they didn’t normally seek it out. They only fought when provoked - that was the rule. As beautiful as they were covered in blood and full of anger, you didn’t want them to get fired, or worse, arrested. There had to be limits. Boundaries.

And normally the twins respected that. They enjoyed a good fight, sure, but their time in the ring was usually able to curb their appetite for violence. Most days they were pretty good at keeping a clear head, forcing themselves to save their primal urges for either their job or the bedroom.

But things were different now.

Now the twins were picking fights everywhere you went: the bank, the grocery store, hell, even your job. The last time they dropped you off at work Jey had threatened to break your coworker’s nose for patting you on the shoulder in greeting. Now the poor man refused to even look you in the eye whenever you worked a shift together.

Although they generally listened to you when you begged them not to fight, it was clear that they were on edge. They continued to push your boundaries, seemingly waiting for you to challenge them - to yank on the proverbial leash and bring them to heel. And whenever you did they would be sullen and petulant. It didn’t make any sense.

You wanted to ask them about it. Every time they started a fight and you reined them in, you had the question on the tip of your tongue.

What’s wrong?

Then the twins would look at you, brooding and pouting after you’d tugged them away from yet another fight, and the question would die on your lips.

*****

Eventually it would all catch up to you.

A friend of yours sent you the video on Twitter, the damn thing already trending.

It was the twins, there was no doubt about it, their golden grillz flashing as they confronted the man in the video. Jimmy shoved the man in the chest and you quickly appeared on the screen, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away, your words lost amongst all the chatter and background noise in the video. Your hand curled around Jey’s arm as well, dragging both of the snarling Samoans out the door before the video abruptly ended.

It had happened a few weeks ago when they’d taken you out to dinner. The twins had been convinced that the waiter had been making eyes at you all night (he hadn’t) and had tried to pick a fight. If you hadn’t intervened you had no doubt that the police would have been involved.

This is what your fear had been. All their little outbursts, the short fuse on their tempers, it all came down to this: a video that could get them suspended from their job. Maybe even fired.

And when the twins came home from work that night, their faces guilty, you knew they’d already seen it.

You tried to ignore how beautiful they looked. You were sure it was a calculated effort to distract you - already ditching their shirts and coming into the bedroom with their black joggers slung low beneath their hipbones. You tried to remember that you were angry at them, forcing yourself not to stare at the miles of golden muscle and tribal ink.

Jimmy already had a smile on his lips, his hair tied up in a loose bun, and you immediately clocked his plan. They wanted to seduce you, hoping you’d give in to their distractions and avoid this conversation forever. You knew them too well.

Jey’s smile wasn’t as confident as his brother’s, his eyes flickering to your unhappy face. He cast Jimmy a doubtful look when he stepped forward and attempted to kiss your cheek.

“Hey, babygirl.” Jimmy’s voice was an octave deeper than usual, offering you his best bedroom voice. “We missed you.”

You dodged his kiss, throwing him an accusatory glare, and Jimmy’s confidence wavered.

“What’s wrong, ma?”

And he was going to play dumb too? You felt anger twist in your stomach.

“Did your job see it?” Your tone was cold and the twins cast each other a worried glance. It was clear this was not part of the plan.

“Baby… Whatchu mean?”

Even Jey didn’t seem convinced by his own tone, immediately grimacing when you directed your angry stare at him.

“I mean this.” You held up your phone where the video was playing on a loop. Both twins looked away.

“Did you really think these little tantrums of yours wouldn’t eventually catch up to you?” Your tone was scathing. “You should be grateful this is the one going viral and not that one of you threatening that cashier at Target. Which I can never go back to, by the way, since we’ve now all been banned for life.”

“Now hold on just a minute,” Jey was immediately defensive. “That guy ain’t have no business lookin’ at you like that. You know damn well-”

“I know damn well you two have been showing out since the last little episode at the bar.” You interrupted, your anger making you reckless. “You’ve been picking fights with everything that moves. You promised me no more fighting and yet here we are, dealing with a fight just about every week.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Jimmy snapped, his brow furrowed as he stared at you. “We ain’t fought anyone since that bar. Just like you asked.”

“You’re so full of shit,” You fumed. “The only reason you haven’t been in a fight since then is because I keep pulling you away. And now we got video evidence of it!” You waved your phone at them for emphasis. “If I hadn’t pulled you out of that restaurant you would have attacked that poor waiter and would be in jail right now. Or you gonna argue that part too?”

“Maybe he had it coming.” Jey’s voice sounded downright petulant, his expression sullen as he stared at you.

You looked over at Jimmy and could see a similar expression on his own face. Sulking. Pouting. Bratty.

It’s almost like they wanted you angry. Like they wanted you to punish them for this. But why?

You leaned forward on the edge of the bed, forcing yourself to take deep breaths. The twins weren’t known for their great communication skills but this was getting ridiculous.

“I don’t even know whatchu so mad fo’,” Jimmy said, waving his hand dismissively. “Ain’t like we gon’ get fired for that. So we pushed a waiter? Who cares?”

You felt your temper rising, your fists clenching at your side and your heartbeat in your ears, then you met Jey’s eyes again.

There was that look again. The one you saw weeks ago. While you weren’t able to place it before, it seemed so obvious to you now. He looked needy. That was the only way to describe it. Neediness wrapped beneath all that pouting and angst.

Your anger stopped in its tracks, your mind suddenly going back to that night all those weeks ago where they’d knelt at your feet. Their eyes had been pleading, seemingly desperate for a pat on the head or a word of praise. They’d been pliable beneath your hands, more like docile puppies rather than the vicious animals you were used to. After all this time you’d assumed it was only because they were remorseful about the blood they’d spilled. You’d thought it was guilt, maybe an attempt at any apology. That’s all.

Did they want that again? They were normally so dominant in the bedroom, their hands bruising and their kisses full of teeth. They weren’t submissive. There was nothing tame about these men. Right?

“You actin’ all worried and for what?” Jimmy continued, approaching your side once again to cup your cheek with his large hand. “We ain’t gonna get in trouble. I promise, baby.”

You didn’t say anything, the gears in your head still turning.

When Jimmy leaned down in an attempt to kiss your cheek again you recoiled.

“No.”

Jimmy froze, hurt and confusion flashing across his face. You’d never said that word before. You glanced over at Jey and saw that he looked just as confused, still keeping his distance.

“No.” You repeated, looking up at Jimmy. “You don’t want this.”

Jimmy’s brow furrowed, slowly withdrawing his hand from your cheek. “Don’t want what?”

“This.” You motioned between the three of you. “You want something different, right? That’s what this is all about?”

Something flickered behind Jimmy’s eyes and you recognized it this time: vulnerability. You were on the right track.

“But you wouldn’t tell me.” You felt more confident now. “You didn’t want to tell me.”

Jimmy didn’t say anything, that vulnerability still in his dark eyes. Jey took a step forward and you noted that he had the same look as his brother.

You could feel the tension in the air now. You knew you were crossing into dangerous territory. With dangerous men. You had to play your cards right if you wanted this to work. Otherwise their temper would flare and you might never see that beautiful glint of submission in their eyes again.

You looked back at Jimmy. “So tell me.”

Jimmy shifted his weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other.

“Tell you what?” There was a new note to his tone now, one you’d never heard before. It sounded almost… hesitant.

“Tell me what you’ve been trying to tell me without words.” You looked at Jey. “I want to hear you say it.”

The twins skittered nervously around you, both of them avoiding your gaze.

Ah, so they needed a push.

Jey was close to your side now, chancing a glance at your face before looking away again. He seemed on edge, his expression conflicted.

“Baby, I don’t-”

Your hand shot out before he could finish his sentence, fisting a firm hand in the curls at the base of his neck. You stood in front of him now, giving a sharp tug against his hair just to hear him gasp, his words dying on his lips in his surprise.

You stood there for a few moments, your eyes carefully examining his face. You waited for him to stop you, maybe push you away. But he didn’t.

Instead, your suspicions were confirmed when you watched his eyes quickly dilate, his mouth falling open as small huffs of breath fell from his soft lips. He made no move to fight you, his arms limp at his sides even as you tugged again on his hair just to see his eyelids flutter.

So this is what they’d been wanting. All this pouting and anger when all they really wanted was to be put in their place. They’d felt the firm hand of your domination before and wanted another taste. They just didn’t know how to ask.

With your fingers still threaded tightly in Jey's hair you pulled him closer, watching him stumble over his feet in an uncharacteristic display of clumsiness. And when your eyes met again you could see a variety of different emotions there: arousal, embarrassment, desperation, but most of all relief.

You let out a hum, turning his head from side to side as you examined him.

“This what you needed, baby?” You crooned, keeping your voice low. “Needed someone to put you in your place?”

Jey let out another gasp as you tugged on his hair again, the sound beautiful. You looked over at Jimmy and saw that he was frozen in place, his eyes wide as he watched the exchange. There were a few emotions warring for dominance on his face, but it was ultimately relief that you saw when you gave the command: “Kneel.”

Jimmy’s knees hit the floor almost immediately, his eyes wide and vulnerable when he met yours. You watched with interest as he put his hands behind his back, the ultimate show of submission.

You had no idea they were this desperate for it. Why hadn’t you seen the signs? All the tantrums, the bratty behavior, the needy looks… it had all gone right over your head. You were too familiar with their dominance and control to even imagine that they’d want this. You’d been blind. And it was only now, after all this drama, that you could finally see that they wanted this. That they needed this.

You looked back at Jey and could see that his eyes were blown wide with desire, his body pliable and soft beneath your hands.

“Sweet boy,” You murmured, watching as Jey practically melted at your words. “Didn’t know how to tell me, did you, baby?”

Jey let out a soft whine, easily falling to his knees as you pulled again on his hair. He looked up at you with big doe eyes, his hands clutching at the muscle of your thigh.

Jimmy let out a mournful sound and you looked over at him to see that he was watching the two of you, his expression pleading. You crooked a finger in his direction and he crawled to your side, his head nuzzling against your thigh in gratitude.

“I’m so sorry, sweet boys,” You murmured, reaching out to card your fingers through their soft curls. “I didn’t know. But it’s alright. I do now. I know what you need.”

Both twins looked up at you in rapt adoration, their faces relieved and their eyes wide with gratitude. They leaned eagerly into your touch, nuzzling against your hands like starved strays. And when Jimmy flicked his tongue out to lick at your fingers, looking up at you with those wide puppy eyes, you felt something surge inside you at the feeling.

You felt almost… protective. After all they’d done for you, they just wanted to be taken care of. They spent their entire lives carrying these heavy weights on their shoulders and they just needed someone else to take control and call the shots. They just wanted to let go.

You let out a pleased hum and the twins looked up at you with hopeful expressions.

“Just need to be taken care of, don’t you, babies?” You cooed, reaching down to scratch beneath their jaws, watching as their eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. “Just need to be good for someone, don’t you?”

They both nodded into your hand, Jey letting out a pleased sound in the back of his throat as you continued to scratch into his beard. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Good boys,” You praised, watching as the twins opened their eyes at your words. “So good for me.”

Jimmy huddled closer to you and you could feel his erection press against your leg, a small whine leaving the back of his throat at the contact. His eyes seemed more desperate now, his hips instinctively bucking forward to seek more friction.

You reached up and tugged on the hair tie holding his bun in place, releasing his soft curls and allowing them to cascade down his shoulders. You ran your fingers through his hair, watching with unconcealed affection as he let out a soft moan of pleasure at the feeling, sinking into your touch. His hips canted forward again and your grip tightened on his hair, immediately stilling him.

“Greedy boy,” You chided, withdrawing your leg and watching as Jimmy’s face fell. “What makes you think you deserve it?”

Jimmy let out a pitiful sound, his eyes pleading as he looked up at you. You tugged again on his hair and he let out a hiss, his back arching at your touch.

“You’re being good now,” You said. “But what about the past few weeks, hm? Picking fights? Being bratty? You weren’t very good then, were you?”

Both twins made a distressed sound at your words, trying to press themselves closer to you despite the firm grip you had on them. Jey moved, as if to nuzzle into your thigh again, but you kept a firm hand in his beard and he stilled, staring up at you with pleading eyes.

You were tempted to keep going, emboldened by their submission and desperation, but you knew it was still dangerous territory. You couldn’t take advantage of them, not without a proper conversation about safewords and boundaries. For now you needed to keep things simple. Easy.

You loosened your grip on the twins, scratching gently into their hair as a wordless apology for how hard you’d pulled. “But I won’t punish you. Not tonight.”

The twins sagged in relief, Jey licking at your fingers in gratitude while Jimmy pressed his forehead into your thigh. You felt drunk at the sight, your mind still having trouble catching up with the reality of what you were seeing. After so many months of their rough fucking and borderline feral behavior, it was strange to see them so obedient and tame at your feet. Is this what domination felt like? Is this how they felt with you? It was addicting. You felt powerful and in control as the twins knelt at your feet, desperate to make you happy.

“My good puppies,” You hummed, watching as their eyes glazed over at your words. “So good for me.”

You didn’t realize that they were tugging at the waistband of your pants, their eyes pleading for you to let them remove the offending fabric. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright, alright,” You chuckled, watching as their faces lit up with happiness. “After being so good for me tonight I think you deserve a reward.”

You leaned back and allowed them to remove your pants and underwear, their mouths practically watering at the sight of your leaking sex. Jey reached out a hand, as if to touch the wetness for himself, but you cast him a warning glance and he quickly recoiled, looking guilty.

You moved further up onto the bed, one of the twins letting out a small whine as you moved away.

“It’s alright,” You murmured, motioning for them to join you. “Come here.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at their eagerness, allowing both of them to lean over and press their soft lips against your neck. Their touch was gentle. Adoring. They had no intention of leaving marks on you tonight. They were too eager to please you, wanting more than anything to be good for you.

You felt your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of both sets of lips brushing across the delicate skin of your neck, electric sparks shooting up your spine at their gentle touch. It was so different from how they normally kissed you. This felt a lot more earnest, perhaps even vulnerable. As much as you loved their hickeys and love bites, you couldn’t deny that this felt good too - each kiss a wordless thank you for allowing this.

You reached out a fisted a hand in Jimmy’s hair, gently tugging him from your neck. His lips were wet and shiny, his brown eyes practically dazed as he stared at you. You smiled at him, combing your hand through his hair just to watch that relaxed, almost blissful expression cross his face again.

“You want a taste, pet?” You asked him and Jimmy perked up at your words, offering you an enthusiastic nod. You had a feeling if he had a tail it’d be wagging. You chuckled, leaning back to allow Jey better access to your neck. “Go on then. Show me how good you can be.”

Jimmy scrambled to obey, quickly moving between your legs to begin lapping at your pussy. Both twins were talented, but Jimmy was especially skilled tonight, his tongue paying special attention to your clit as he swirled his tongue between your already soaked folds.

Jey let out a small whine, releasing his lips from your neck to look at you. You saw how his eyes glanced down at his brother, seemingly disappointed that he had not been granted a taste.

“Shhh, it’s alright, puppy,” You cooed, reaching up to cup his cheek affectionately. “You’ll get a taste soon enough. Just be patient, okay?”

Jey let out a small whimper, but he didn’t argue. Instead, his eyes flickered to your lips, his expression desperate. He wanted to kiss you, but he didn’t want to do so without permission. You smiled.

“Such a good boy,” You praised. “Kiss me.”

Jey’s lips were on you instantly, the kiss needy and hungry. His touch, combined with Jimmy’s tongue, had you moaning, your body thrumming with pleasure.

You reached down to thread your fingers into Jimmy’s hair, petting him as he continued to worship you. His tongue moved eagerly against you, his efforts renewed with your silent praise, and you couldn’t help but gasp at the feeling, your mouth parting from Jey’s.

Jey’s eyes were dark, his pupils swallowing the rich chocolate of his irises. He pressed tighter against you and you could feel his erection straining in his joggers, his hips instinctively chasing the pressure your leg provided.

You reached down to tug at his pants, a wordless command to remove them that Jey obeyed immediately. And when your hand wrapped his length, Jey let out a beautiful sound, his back arching off the bed as you moved your hand expertly along the shaft. You couldn’t resist swiping a finger experimentally across the slit of his cock, coating your finger with pre-come and bringing it to his lips for a taste. To your surprise, Jey opened his mouth obediently, tasting himself before you brought your hand back down to stroke him.

The bed was moving, but you realized it was because Jimmy was slowly rolling his hips into the mattress, his movements shallow as he sought some kind of friction for his own clothed erection. He looked up at you as he continued to lap at your leaking hole, his brown eyes pleading. You continued to pet him, but you didn’t give him permission to touch himself. Not yet.

Meanwhile, Jey had buried his face into your neck, letting out the cutest little whimpers and moans as you continued to stroke him. His hips bucked forward to seek more of your touch, but you chastised him with the click of your tongue.

“Be a good puppy and sit still." You warned. "You’ll take what I give you and nothing more.”

Jey whined, but obeyed, forcing himself to still his hips as you played with him.

Jimmy’s tongue was incessant around your clit now, pushing you closer and closer to your own release. Your grip tightened on his hair and the movement of his hips increased, his pathetic whines muffled as he continued to lick and suck with earnest. You finally took pity on him.

“What an obedient boy,” You praised, your hands still in his hair. “Go on. Touch yourself for me.”

Jimmy’s hands were immediately in his pants, too desperate now to even tug them all the way off. You were impressed at how he managed to keep his mouth latched to your clit, his clever tongue causing more pleasure to bloom within your core.

Jey was pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck, panting softly as your hand found every perfect sweet spot that you’d memorized on his length. He let out a high-pitched keen and your pussy spasmed at the sound. God, you didn’t even know he could make these kinds of noises.

“Good boy,” You whispered. You could tell he was close. “Go on. Come for me.”

Jey obeyed with a moan, covering your hand and his stomach with his release as his back arched off the bed. Seeing him fall apart beneath you was quickly sending you to the edge as well, your fingers tightening against Jimmy’s scalp.

“Almost there, sweetheart,” You gasped, watching Jimmy’s wide, puppy eyes looking up at you in desperation. “Doing so good. So good, pet.”

Jimmy whimpered against your clit and the vibration from the noise was enough to send you over the edge. You felt your muscles finally relax at the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut as fireworks exploded behind your eyelids. You felt Jimmy dutifully lap up your juices, still desperate to please you even as you sank into the mattress with a sigh.

You felt Jey pepper your neck with kisses, but it was Jimmy’s cries that caught your attention. You knew he was close, his hand continuing to furiously stroke his cock, but he made no effort to remove his mouth from your pussy. You realized that he was still trying to be good for you, knowing that you hadn’t told him he could stop.

“Good boy,” You praised, using your hand in his hair to tug him off of you. He looked beautiful like this, his body pliant and submissive beneath your hands, eyes blown wide with lust. His lips were swollen and slick-shined, his beard shiny and wet from his time between your legs. You tugged on his hair again just to hear him groan. “Come on my pussy.”

Jimmy quickly obeyed, soft pants falling from his lips as he spilled onto you, the warmth from his release dripping through your folds.

You let out a hum of approval, your grip loosening on his hair as he kneeled unsteadily on the mattress, his eyes dazed.

“Come here, sweet boy,” You murmured, watching as Jimmy slowly clambered up to meet you. You urged him to lay down, watching with affection as he curled his body against yours, his face nuzzling into your neck as he pressed sweet kisses there. You continued to pet his hair, chuckling as he practically purred in happiness.

Jey continued to offer kisses of his own, his lips soft against your heated skin. You reached up to pet his hair as well, a blissful smile on his lips as he basked in your attention.

“My perfect, pretty boys,” You crooned, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. “So obedient for me, aren’t you?”

They both made small noises of agreement, Jey even leaning up to offer an affectionate lick to your cheek. You smiled.

“Still wanted a taste, puppy?”

Jey nodded, his doe eyes wide as he stared at you. Your eyes flickered to the mess between your legs where Jimmy’s come had mixed with yours. You raised an eyebrow, the question hanging in the air. You wouldn’t command him, but you were curious to see what he would do.

But you shouldn't have had any doubts.

Now that you knew what the twins needed, they weren’t bratty or sullen anymore. They wanted to be good for you. Obedient for you. And when Jey moved between your legs, his tongue eager as he cleaned up the mess you and his brother left behind, you made sure to scratch behind his ears, watching as his eyes flickered up to yours adoringly.

“Good boy.”

_____

besties: @mindairy @amandairene88 @askullasunflower @acute-crashout-jeyuso @partypoison00 @brianochka @femdisa @luvrsluxe @zephyrazzz @scorpiochaos @gardencottage @minteagalaxea @annyanse @nbanenefrmdao @wishyouloveme @glittergirl7 @bloodline-fanacc @key05marie @mzv11

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wyllstarionfics · 3 days ago

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Wyllstarion fic recs where trans wyll gets his [redacted] ate

a fic rec list inspired by this post!

A Veritable Feast by Backflips

16k/Complete!

Wyll was a big boy. He’d handled aches and pains and cycles for years before he began his transition, and he could surely handle it again for as long as he had to. He could power through the cramps, he could handle swapping out his rag, he could weather his back aching through the whole process.

Even if he really, really didn’t want to.

---

One particularly cruel side effect of Mizora turning Wyll into a devil is a resurgence of his menstrual cycle — except now it's got the torture of the hells behind it. Or: Wyll has a period again and is not dealing with it well, Mizora is being very evil about it, and Astarion is... Astarion.

Mod's Notes: This comes with a very enjoyable story about dysphoria and bodily autonomy

He Fashioned Himself a Blade by Noodlefrog

106k/Wip that I'm positive will not be abandoned!!

For all Mizora’s attempts to keep Wyll isolated and dependent on her, there is one thing she can never take from him: the Blade of Frontiers. In his head, Wyll rewrites his own story and tells himself tales of his ideal self. No pact binds the Blade, no stone eye sits in his socket, and he doesn’t have to thank a devil for the beard on his face or the depth of his voice. As he begins to unravel the mystery of Astarion’s easy charm and clumsy lies, Wyll even lets himself pretend that he could someday have a life beyond the hunt.

Mizora’s plans for Wyll go deeper than his pact, though. When she warps Wyll’s body into a shape of her own design, she also gives him a few gifts. Changes he has wanted for years are now permanently sculpted into his flesh with a fiendish twist, and Wyll can only ask himself… What would the Blade do?

Or: Wyll copes with his devil boner by writing fanfiction of his own alter ego, and Astarion tries out some high-stakes strategies for monster hunter seduction.

Mod's Notes: I literally cannot exaggerate how good this fic is and how fast I run to read the updates

Astarion Ancunín, Abortionist by Not_whelmed_yet

7K/Complete

Wyll had waited for his true love before pursuing intimacy - not true love in the sense of fated soulmates, but love that was true the way you held true to an oath. A promise of loyalty, of commitment, above and beyond mere attraction. He'd thought he'd found that in Tav.

Thought. Past tense.

And to make matters worse, the birth control he'd been taking in the wilds had also betrayed his trust. Now he finds himself outside the door of a small abortion clinic in the Lower City, looking for help that only a practicing vampire abortionist can offer.

Mod's Notes: This may LOOK like a crack fic but it is so sweet, tender, and heartwrenching!

#help yall i only censored this so people wouldn't have pussy in giant letters on their screen #wyllstarion #wyllstarion fic #wyll ravengard #astarion #bloodpact #bg3

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wavesmp3 · 9 months ago

Text

young & stupid

yoon jeonghan x reader (gender neutral)

you think yoon jeonghan is crazy when he asks if you'll pretend to date him, but luckily for him you're just young and dumb enough to agree.

genre: university + fake dating au word count: 14k warnings: alcohol, profanity, some explicit content, mentions of sex, and a very american writer who says soccer instead of football a/n: posted an unfinished version of this like 4 years ago and randomly decided one day a couple weeks ago to finish it. this is the most indulgent fic i have ever written. pls enjoy my birthday gift to myself lolol

Music bursts from every corner of the run-down frat house, chasing after you no matter where you run to escape it. Bodies endlessly spill in from the patio and front entrance, a never ending revolving door of college kids just like yourself looking for some kind of release after a long week of… well, college. But unlike most times you’ve paid a visit to Soonyoung’s frat house on a Friday night, tonight you’ve already decided that you are not going to be having fun at this party.

Soonyoung begged you to come, bribing your appearance with a promise to study with you for the next math quiz. Of course the first thing he does after walking into the house with you is ditch you. But even that, you deal with. You find some friends among the crowd, acquaint yourself with some beer, and almost start to have fun egging on a brewing dance battle. But all that ends the second you turn a corner too fast and are met with a full cup of bright red jungle juice all over your white shirt.

So now, upstairs in a bathroom Soonyoung let you in to, desperately trying to wash out the stains, you make a stubborn decision to not make another appearance at a frat party for the rest of the semester which you’re positive you’ll break by the time midterms are up.

But for now, helplessly staring at your reflection in the dirty mirror, you arrive to the conclusion that this damn jungle juice stain is not coming out. You exit the bathroom into the adjoining room and start grabbing your stuff to walk home.

“Who the fuck are you?” You jump at the voice that’s joined you in the room. You hadn’t even noticed anyone entering. You stare at the figure, mouth open. “How’d you get into my room?”

“Oh my gosh, so sorry,” you apologize in a hurried voice, packing your things up impossibly faster. “Soonyoung let me in. It was just supposed to be a quick thing–Wait no, that makes it sound like we were hooking up. Which we definitely were not. I can promise you that much, lol, not Soonyoung. But no, I just needed the bathroom. Cause this dude and his jungle juice, and…” you look down at your shirt. “Anyways, I was about to go home. I didn’t even–”

“Okay, wait, slow down.” The guy cuts you off. “You know Soonyoung.”

You nod. “Uh, yeah, we’re friends.”

He steps closer, narrowing his eyes at you, and for a moment you think the guy looks a little bit familiar. “And you’re not a stalker?”

This time you squint, jutting your head forward. “A stalker?” He stares at you unwavering. You scoff. “Um. No. Of course not.”

“Oh, okay, good.” He exhales, his previous demeanor falling entirely. “Well, in that case, let me help.” He walks towards one of the dressers, pulling the drawer open to rummage through it.

“No. That’s okay. You don’t have to–”

“Let me. Plus,” he gestures towards the general direction of your shirt without looking up from the drawer, “that can’t be comfortable. And it definitely isn’t flattering.”

You’re too stunned to say anything back. You’re not sure how you’d respond anyways to what you think counts as an insult from the dude who’s also helping you. You study him instead. You’ve definitely seen him around before, but you’re not entirely sure where or when because you probably would’ve remembered someone as attractive as him. He’s tall, soft-faced with longer hair that cuts off right under his ears, and damn is he attractive. In an obvious—in your face, weak in the knees, god this man is beautiful—kind of way. Not that you notice.

“Here.” He throws a tshirt your way, and you catch it between your arms. You both stare at each for a long moment, until he jumps on his heels a little as if he’s suddenly remembered something. “My bad, I’ll turn around.”

You stare unamused at his backside. He really doesn’t think you’re going to change with him in the room does he?

And almost as if he’s reading your mind, he says: “Don’t worry, I won’t peek.” He looks over his shoulder with a crooked, mischievous smile. “I mean unless you want me to.” Your stomach throws itself out the window.

You scoff. “I’ll just change in the bathroom.” You fully expect the guy to be gone by the time you exit the bathroom, but instead he’s still there, sitting at the edge of the bed on his phone.

You clear your throat. “Thanks for the shirt.”

“Oh, yeah,” he looks up from his phone and takes you in. You swear his mouth twitches into a half smile. “It’s no big deal.

You let out an awkward half laugh, half sigh. “So, I’ll get this shirt back to you somehow. Thanks again.”

He nods, still staring at the air around your body with that sickeningly charming half smile. You turn for the door.

“Wait!” You pause, facing the boy again who is now standing up, arm stretched out towards you. He drops it at once like it was never supposed to be there. “Are you going back to the party?”

You actually laugh at that. “God, no. I’m going home.”

“Oh.” He tilts his head, and then opens and closes his mouth as if the words keep getting lost in the back of his throat. You try not to think too hard about how endearing the action is. “I can give you a ride if you want.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, that’s alright. I don’t live that far.” You live on the opposite side of campus.

He grabs a set of keys off his desk. “Let me. I wanna get out of this party too. But sadly,” he motions to the room you’re both standing in, then leans towards you a little, “I live here.”

And you know you should refuse. You know there is nothing sensical about letting this stranger, whose name you don’t even know, take you home. But there’s something about his smile and the tufts of hair falling over his forehead, something about the way he gave you his shirt that makes you say yes against your better judgment.

It turns out, leaving the party with the mysteriously nice guy, who’s conveniently hot (again, not that you’re looking), is much harder than it looks. The only plus side to getting bombarded with people wanting to talk to him, is that you learn his name: Jeonghan. And it hits you then, of course you’ve seen him around before. Well, maybe not him, but you’ve definitely seen his picture. His face is plastered over all of the university’s promotional material. Half the school has a crush on Jeonghan, the star soccer player. Unfortunately for you and your apparently impossible wish to go home, it also appears that half the school is at this party and fueled with liquid confidence.

“Hey Jeonghan,” one person in particular slurs, appearing in front of you and him magically. Yeah, you think, if I were him I’d want to get out of this party too. Then as if the stranger has come to their senses, they jump back and clasp their hands over their mouth. A blush paints itself all over their face. “So sorry. I must’ve tripped or something…” they laugh awkwardly. Jeonghan does too. You look over at him and find that he looks incredibly uncomfortable.

“It’s fine,” he tells them, holding his hands up, “I gotta go. See you around though.” And Jeonghan’s turning on his heel ready to dash for the door.

“Wait a second!” The person calls, grabbing Jeonghan’s arm before he can slip out of the house. He turns back around begrudgingly. “I was uh I was sort of wondering if you’d like to maybe go out or something—“

You watch them ask out Jeonghan on a date, and well, it’s sort of cute. The stranger clearly harbors a massive crush on Jeonghan. They’re not being rude or pushy, and honestly, even after accounting for the alcohol, they’re more confident and bold than you’d be. You find yourself wanting to congratulate them. But then, with another look at Jeonghan’s face, you feel a burst of pity. You know that look. Jeonghan is going to turn them down.

“I, uh, I’m really flattered but I…” Jeonghan stutters through his words, shooting you a glance asking for help. You just shrug. Suddenly his smirk reappears. He grabs your hand, pulling you to his slide and lifting your joined hands up like a trophy. “I’m actually with them.”

Your teeth clench immediately to keep your mouth from falling open. You stare at Jeonghan, eyes screaming.

“Oh sorry,” the person looks between the two of you, “I didn’t know.”

You stare at Jeonghan, waiting for him to say something and failing to find any words for yourself. But instead of continuing his lie verbally, he decides to act it out even further, bringing your hands up to his lips and pressing the faintest kiss to your knuckle.

That fucker.

“Yeah,” you sigh, grasping at straws for something to say that sounds convincing with your one free hand. “It’s new.” You squeeze Jeonghan’s hand hard enough to know it has to have hurt and promptly drag him out of the house.

Once you’re in his car, safe from all his suitors. You round on him. “You couldn’t have just said no?”

“That was their third time asking me out.”

“And?”

“Turning down people is hard.” He whines, pushing the keys in the car and starting the ignition. “It was just easier to say we’re dating. Plus, you’re in my shirt so it already looks like we just had sex.”

“Or,” you gasp, exasperated, “it looks like I got jungle juice on my shirt, and you just gave me one to wear!”

He gives you a look. “Now, who would believe that?”

You have the sudden desire to dissolve into the seat.

“Anyways,” he says, putting the car in reverse, “where to?”

“East campus. The Austin Complex.”

He makes a triumphant noise while stopping at a red light. “It appears I’m not the only one that’s been telling lies tonight. Not that far you said.”

You gape at him. “My lie is not comparable to yours.”

“Actually I think it is.” He taps a finger to his chin. “In fact, I think it even makes us equal.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

He holds out his pinky as a peace offering. “I’m not moving until you agree.”

“Jeonghan, the light’s green.”

He glances at the green traffic light and proceeds to turn his hazards on in the middle of the fucking road all while keeping his pinky in the exact same spot.

“Are you crazy?”

“Most people don’t think so.”

“People will honk.”

“It’s 1 am.”

You say his name. He says yours. The light turns yellow, and you feel a rush of warmth.

“Fine.” You huff, joining your pinky with his. “We’re equal.”

He passes the light just as it turns red.

—

You haven’t seen Jeonghan since the entire incident. In truth, you’ve been so busy studying for your math quiz with Soonyoung that you almost hadn’t even thought about that night again. Emphasis on almost. However, when you get your score back the following week, the hours you spent studying appear to have been wasted. You slump into a bench outside the lecture hall, holding another barely passing grade to your chest.

And in the midst of your public wallowing, you feel a flick to your forehead.

You yelp and snap your eyes open to Jeonghan who stands before you snickering. “What was that for?”

“Payback.”

You say holding out your pinky as a reminder. “I thought we were even.” He shrugs, sporting a smirk that makes your stomach churn. It should be illegal for someone to look that good with a smirk.

“Excuse me?”

Fuck. Did you say that outloud?

“Nothing.” You quickly mutter, shaking your head. He invites himself to sit down next to you.

“Anyway, what’s wrong with you?”

You groan at the reminder. “Multi.”

“Multivariable calculus?” He asks to which you nod. “Who do you have?”

“Lubinsky.”

Defying all laws of reason and physics, Jeonghan perks up a bit. “Oh, I loved him.”

“His quizzes are impossible.”

“Yeah, but he’s funny.”

You scrunch your noise. “When did you even take multi? Aren’t you a business major?”

He tilts his head at you. “How do you know my major?” You might’ve asked Soonyoung about Jeonghan during one of your study sessions, but you definitely weren’t about to admit that now. Luckily for you, he continues without an answer. “I switched majors last year.”

“Then you must know how much I despise sketching in three axes.” You complain, throwing your head back against the wall.

“Just wait until you get to finding extrema.” Jeonghan hums. You want to shove your head through the damn wall just from the sound of it.

“May my grade rest in peace in that case,” you mutter, fishing through your bag. “Here’s your shirt back.”

He takes it. “So people kind of think we’re dating after the party.”

You can’t help it. You laugh at the look on his face. “Yeah, what did you expect when you said we were together?” He doesn’t say anything. “Don’t worry. I’ll clear the air.”

He furrows his brows at you. “What? No. That’s not what I mean. I…” he hesitates, scratching an area behind his neck. “Well, this past week has been surprisingly calm for me. Not a ton of confessions.” (“Oh, poor Jeonghan,” you murmur.) He looks at you hopefully, “So, I was thinking we keep up the charade.”

You make a noise. “Like fake dating?”

“Yes.”

“Haha, very funny.”

“No, seriously.” He says earnestly. You don’t say anything for a moment just staring at him flabbergasted. He softens, giving you a very soft, “please,” paired with big, brown, pleading eyes.

Goddamn it–those eyes.

You turn your body towards him. “What do I get out of it?”

“I’ll tutor you.” He says, pointing to your quiz grade. You flip the paper upside down. “I got an A in multi.”

“No one makes an A with Lubinsky.”

“Which is exactly why you want me as your tutor.”

You think about it for a moment longer, and, well…

Fake dating Yoon Jeonghan can’t be the worst thing in the world.

—

As you find out during your first session, Jeonghan is not what you’d call a ‘chill’ tutor. You’re both sitting in a far corner of the library, notes splayed out all over the table.

“Do it again.”

“Jeonghan please, we’ve been finding directional derivatives and unit normal vectors for so long now. Let’s take a break.”

He points to your worksheet. “One more.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“I thought you wanted an A.”

“You know, a C isn’t sounding so bad right now.”

“Just do it.”

You groan and set up another integral.

To your complete and utter shock, you’re able to solve the problem all on your own. No clarifying questions to Jeonghan. No flipping through your lecture notes. Just you and the answer.

Jeonghan checks it over, eyes darting between your notebook and his laptop. He pauses for a minute, finger lingering by your boxed, final answer, before very quietly saying, “look at that.” He looks up to you, eyes widened and lips pursed together in a pleasant surprise.

You can barely contain yourself. “It’s right?”

“Well,” he draws out the word, sitting back in his chair and erasing his previous expression. “You still rounded wrong at this step—“

You throw your pencil down. “I’M RIGHT!”

Which unsurprisingly earns you a couple dirty looks from others.

He snickers at your excitement, offering you silent applause at the achievement.

“So can we take a break now?”

He looks at you for a long moment. You stare at him back, shaking your shoulders as if that would convince him of a break. He smiles. “Okay, fine, but only for ten minutes.”

You end up taking it on the roof of the library building, eating an assortment of snacks that you bought from the vending machine and Jeonghan brought from home.

“So, tell me,” you start, grabbing a chip from the bag, “the confessions can’t really be that bad, can they?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean,” you sit up in your chair, stretching out your back, “enough for you to spend your Thursday afternoon doing all this?”

“Ah.” He exhales, sitting down further in his seat and popping a grape in his mouth. “Well, I like to teach.”

“And what about the whole fake dating ruse?”

He shrugs. “It’s easier than being the asshole that says no.”

You lean forward, squinting at him. “I don’t believe that.”

He cocks his head. “No?”

You shake yours. “No.”

“What about you then?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “How come I know nothing about you?”

“How come you haven’t asked?”

He swipes his tongue over his lips briefly, sizing your question up. Quietly, he says, “Touche.” Then leads forward in his seat and asks if you have an ex.

You steal a grape. “Not an official one.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that there was this guy before university, and we were…” you push the grape in your mouth, letting the burst of it give you time to find the right words. They never come. “We were something,” you settle on, “but he just ended up being more trouble than he was worth. Ask Soonyoung. He’s always hated the guy’s guts.”

“I can’t imagine Soonyoung hating anyone.” Jeonghan muses, pushing the tupperware of grapes towards you.

“Yeah, well, Soonyoung hated people who treated others like they were disposable.”

“So why’d you date him then?”

For a moment, you’re taken aback by the question. Replaying the words over and over in your mind looking for a hint of mockery or judgment. You don’t find any. Instead, you find his brows knitted together, and his lips pushed to the side of this mouth. The question is genuine. A wholehearted curiosity that feels so misplaced coming from the guy who has suitors falling at his feet at least once a day. It’s an innocent kind of curiosity that isn’t trying to pry; it’s only trying to understand. And that thought, the very idea that Jeonghan might actually be trying to get to know you, makes your entire body inexplicably shiver.

The curiosity in his voice bends over and touches yours. “What? You’ve never been young and stupid before?”

He shakes his head. “I was so focused on school and soccer when I was younger. I feel like I never gave myself the chance to just do dumb things, date shitty people, etc. etc.”

Gravely, you say. “It’s really not that exciting.”

He laughs. “I know.” His voice dips. “I just wish I had figured that out myself.”

Jeonghan doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it, but he makes this face, this sad-eyed, forced smile face that makes him look so suddenly vulnerable. Like you could tap his shoulder and watch him unravel from head to toe. You feel a rush of pity in the middle of your chest, a quiet urge to reach over and give him all the teenage regrets he never got to have. Instead, you lean towards him and say, “You’re still young. You can still do dumb things. Date shitty people.”

His eyes flit up to you. You notice what a beautiful shade of brown they are. How big they are. How sincerely sad they look. (And you know, somewhere, in a very far corner of your mind, that those eyes will be the ultimate death of you.)

“Well, I don’t know about that last part.” He starts, rubbing his hands against his jeans. “Technically, I’m dating you.”

You place your palm on your chest. “And I swear to be the shittiest fake partner you’ll ever have.”

He smiles. The sun emerges from behind a cloud. And his eyes–you swear to god–they glimmer.

—

You and Jeonghan’s first outing as an official fake couple is back at the frat house. To your surprise Jeonghan stays by your side the entire time. He takes you around the house, gets you a drink, and introduces you to his friends, but you’re quick to shoot down any shock because what else would a fake boyfriend be doing at a party. Although it’s not as easy to calm down the beating of your heart when Jeonghan’s hand finds its way into yours at some point in the night. By the time the party is in full swing, people bursting from every open door and window in the house, you’re already a little tipsy.

You’re getting a refill for your nearly done drink when another girl appears in front of Jeonghan. From the way she’s twirling her hair between her fingers and leaning into one hip, you can tell that, at least from her end, it’s more than just a friendly conversation. But even that doesn’t really explain what makes you act the way you do. Maybe it’s the alcohol, you reason. Or maybe the fact that Jeonghan’s popularity is just as contagious as the rest of him. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s that you’ve gotten a little too invested in this whole fake dating act. Either way, you swallow reason with the last of your drink, strut up to the both of them, and latch yourself to Jeonghan’s side, letting your arm wrap around his. You give the girl a snotty ‘sorry, he’s taken’ before dragging Jeonghan away, giggling into your palm with no intention to return. When you look back at Jeonghan, you find him looking quite amused as well.

“That was good!” He tells you by the time you’re both in the hallway. “But you know what would really seal the deal?”

You’re excited. Fake dating is fun. “What?”

“If we kissed?”

“Oh, please.” Your eyes do a drunken loop de loop. “I’m gonna go get my refill.”

“No, seriously.” He says with a look you can’t quite comprehend. “Look. She’s still watching.”

You look beyond his shoulder and sure enough, the girl is still watching you and him in the hallway. And she looks pissed. Maybe Jeonghan wasn’t that far off with the stalker accusation.

“You see what I have to deal with. Just one kiss. We probably won’t even have to do it again after this.”

“Probably?” You echo.

“Well, yeah, I can’t make any promises.” He shrugs except that you barely hear the words because you’re too focused on taking a tiny step back each time he takes a tiny step towards you. Eventually, the charade ends. Your heel and head meet the wall. His knee meets yours.

You’re painfully aware of your own breathing when you say, “When I said to be young and stupid this is not what I meant.”

He giggles in your face. You can smell the vodka on his breath. Is he drunk? Are you?

“Who’s going to believe we’re dating if we never kiss?”

And well, you can’t really argue with that logic. “Fine, but keep it short.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Do I look like the kind of guy to keep a kiss short?” You snort at that, and when he takes yet another step closer to you, your hands instinctively fly up against his chest. He tangles his fingers between yours and pulls your hands down, resting his forehead against yours. “Hey,” he says except that he’s so close it’s more like he exhales the word and inhales you, “can I kiss you now?”

He lets go of your hands, as if he’s making sure you know you have an out. Your eyes flit up to his, only to find that he’s watching your lips.

“Oh, fuck it,” is what you say before you fist his shirt and pull him in so that his lips meet yours.

And the moment you do all of your previous precautions are thrown out the window because—dang how long has it been since you’ve kissed someone?

Somewhere along the kiss, you lose yourself in the sensation of it, tugging on Jeonghan’s shirt. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in until your bodies are flush against each other. And when he slips his tongue into your mouth you tell yourself you allow it to happen because you’re tipsy or touch starved or both. Although none of those excuses explain why your arms snake around his neck and why your entire body turns to jelly when he moans in your mouth.

“Hey lovebirds,” you hear Soonyoung yell from somewhere thousands and thousands lightyears away, somewhere so far away you barely hear it, “get a room.” You both pull away from the kiss, faces only moving a tiny bit apart. Neither of you try to remove yourselves from the other's arms. He smiles, wide enough that his cheek brushes up against your nose, and it makes you forget where you are. Your ears betray you. You let yourself think he’s talking about the kiss and not the charade when he says, “Thanks for that.”

You throw caution to the window, laughing freely against his face. “Asshole. You knew I wouldn’t say no.”

He steps back, pulling away from your embrace. “Yeah,” he mutters, looking back to the main room, “that should do it.” You follow his eyes to see the girl from earlier whispering to a friend while sneaking glances at you two. You’re reminded of the whole reason you and Jeonghan were kissing in the first place.

He points to your cup. “Shot?”

You laugh—or well at least you try to—but it gets caught in your throat and distorted into a small cough. You swallow. “Yes.”

—

Thankfully, things aren’t awkward between you and Jeonghan after the party, although there’s no real reason for there to be other than the fact that you agreed to fake date him without really thinking about what else it would implicate. In fact, things are sort of easy with Jeonghan. He finds you around campus more often, and you find him too, walking each other to class and grabbing coffee when you both have a spare moment. In the midst of getting a fake boyfriend, you also get a new friend. With Jeonghan’s help, you actually start understanding math enough to complete the homework without having to flip back to the textbook every question. And it’s not too long after the party that you’re planning your next outing as a couple.

—

The stands of the field are absolutely packed with people. You had no idea soccer games rallied this much interest at your school.

“We’re playing a top ranked school apparently,” Soonyoung reads off a sign as you both make your way towards the student section. Luckily, he knows as little about the sport as you do. “So, why exactly did you agree to fake date Jeonghan?”

“He’s tutoring me in multi.” You explain to him, scanning the stands. While walking over to the game, you had told Soonyoung about the whole act, confirming what he already started to suspect when you first suggested going to the soccer game together. (“Drunken makeout I get.” Soonyoung had said. “But going to his games seemed like a stretch.” You shoved him off the sidewalk.)

“At least you’re getting something out of it.” He snorts. “Who are we looking for?”

You show him the text from Jeonghan, telling you to sit with his friend. “Do you know him?”

Soonyoung looks into the crowd. “Him?” He asks, pointing to a guy waving you and him over. You inhale sharply, waving back. “So if it’s fake, why is Jeonghan having you meet his friends?” Soonyoung asks as you head over.

“He has his reasons.” You offer, having asked a similar question yourself. You reach the stand where his friend is seated, crossing past the others in the row and gently apologizing as you bump into dozens of knees.

“Hi, I’m Joshua.” Jeonghan’s friend introduces himself as you and Soonyoung take your seats. You return the greeting, introducing yourself to him. Looking around the student section, you notice everyone else dressed in school merchandise. “Was I supposed to wear school colors for this?”

Soonyoung gives you a long look. Then just laughs in your face.

“Asshole.” You grumble quietly. “Could’ve said something.”

Joshua laughs as well, although much less in-your-face than Soonyoung’s. “I’m surprised Jeonghan didn’t give you like a jersey to wear or something.”

You had meant the asshole in question to be Soonyoung, not Jeonghan, but you don’t really have the heart to correct him. Instead, while waiting for the game to start, you ask, “How do you know Jeonghan?”

“Oh, we met freshman year. We both rushed the frat together, but I dropped after one semester.” Soonyoung pops in then, telling Joshua about when he rushed, and the two boys talk about other people they both mutually know. As one does.

They run out of people after a person named Jihoon. Joshua turns back to you. “How did you and Jeonghan meet? I haven’t even gotten the full story yet.”

“We met through Soonyoung, technically, I guess. At the house during a party. Soonyoung let me into his bathroom.”

Joshua nods, and with a playful lilt adds, “not a stalker, are you?”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and turn back to Soonyoung on the other side of you. “I hope you know I’m never beating the stalker allegations because of you.”

Soonyoung smiles smugly at you.

“No, I’m kidding,” Joshua says through a laugh hidden behind his palm. “I just know how paranoid Jeonghan is about that stuff now.”

The wording pokes at a corner of your mind. “Now?”

Joshua nods, solemnly almost. “He actually had one last year. Didn’t end up being anything seriously endangering luckily. But he barely left his dorm for the rest of the semester after all was said and done.”

You think back to your conversation with Jeonghan on the roof of the library. You feel a familiar pang of pity bloom in your chest. He never got to just be young. Outloud, you hear yourself saying, “stupid.”

Joshua leans towards you. “What?”

You wave it off, and the crowd erupts into cheer. Everybody starts standing up, yelling and jumping and whooping. You hesitate for too long obviously. Soonyoung pulls you up by your arm. You see the team rush the field and the crowd gets impossibly louder. You look for Jeonghan among the players scanning each of them until you find him towards the left side of the field, warming up or something. You’re not really sure. Either way, you hear yourself start cheering when you find him, hands cupping around your mouth. The game starts soon enough with Joshua explaining to you and Soonyoung which position Jeonghan plays and what the hell is happening each time a player receives a card. After the first 15 minutes, you actually get a pretty good understanding of the whole thing.

The first half comes to a close with the opposing team up by one goal and Jeonghan’s team looking exhausted and dispirited.

“Hey, I gotta head out.” Soonyoung tells you once everything has settled down for halftime. “Still have to finish that chem lab due tonight.”

You grimace at the reminder of the report. “Good luck. It took me 5 hours.”

He gives you a miserable thumbs up. Then, turns his attention to Joshua. “It was nice to meet you.”

Joshua returns the sentiment. “I’ll see you at Tim’s once you’re done with the report though, right?”

Soonyoung’s lips turn to a fine line. “I, well, it’s a funny story but uh…”

“He’s banned from Tim’s.” You finish for him.

Joshua does not hide his shock. Soonyoung just shrugs and walks off. Joshua turns to you, exasperated. “But it’s the only bar in town.”

You inhale, “And Soonyoung is the type to get impulsively banned from it for the rest of college.” The answer doesn’t seem to do much of anything for Joshua’s profound confusion. “What’s at Tim’s tonight?”

“Oh, the team always goes there after games. They normally invite some friends too. Whoever can make it out basically.” You nod at his explanation, watching as people leave the stands then return, holding steaming, paper cartons of food. God, that smells good. You crane your neck to see. Are those corn dogs? “Did Jeonghan not tell you about it?”

“What?” He pulls you out of a trance of your own. “Oh, yeah, yeah. I think he mentioned it. I probably just forgot.”

Joshua chuckles politely. “So are you coming?”

Oh crap. “Uh, well…” A million lies run through your mind, chasing past one another, zigzagging in your brain. You have homework. You have other plans. You and Jeonghan aren’t even actually dating. Well—a million lies and one truth you guess. Either way, they all fizzle to nothing. Jeonghan didn’t tell you about the tradition at Tim’s. He probably doesn’t even want you there. So what the hell are you supposed to tell his best friend?

Luckily, you never have to figure that out. Fanfare erupts through the crowd, the announcer sounds throughout the entire field. “Oh the game’s restarting,” you mutter. Joshua is either genuinely disinterested in your response or just polite enough to not ask about it again. You have a crummy feeling it’s the latter.

The second half of the game is much more intense than the first. Your school’s team comes out blazing, scoring a goal in the first ten minutes in an insane effort led by the player with a 7 on his back. And the crowd, you included, absolutely lose their shit. You’re jumping up and down on the stands, screaming at the top of your lungs, voice lost among the rest. The team rushes to the right corner of the field closest to the student section, colliding in hugs and jumps and screaming maybe even louder than the hundreds of you in the stands. You watch Jeonghan in the celebration, hair matted down with sweat, mouth ajar in a soundless cheer, embracing a teammate before ditching him to literally jump on top of another. Your yells turn to laughs. And before you know it, the game is back on, all players racing across the field in a mad dash. The ball goes flying. Penalty cards flying to nearly every player at least once. The entire student section is at the edge of their seats. Time seems to fly by with unified chants filling your ears and throat. There’s only 10 minutes left. The game is still in a tie, and you really don’t feel like sitting here for the extra time. Then, someone starts singing the school’s fight song. Eventually, the whole section is singing it. You included. It ignites something in the team.

The opposing team has the ball, dribbling it across the field and passing it back and forth. Out of nowhere, one of your school’s players appears right next to the opponent with the ball. He kicks the ball out from under the other player, taking him and the rest of the stands by surprise. The ball rolls from under his knees to another of your school’s players. Jeonghan’s teammate is in action immediately, sprinting away with the ball to the opposite side of the field, feet flying faster than your mind can even comprehend. And just as one of the opposing team’s members closes in on him, he punts the ball in the air and it flies and flies and flies. Your heart lurches. There’s no mistaking it–the ball is aimed for Jeonghan. 7 minutes left. Jeonghan receives the ball perfectly, immediately racing away with it towards the goal. An opponent chases after him, forcing him to head nearer and nearer to the touchlines. It all happens so fast. The other player kicks his feet out to steal the ball. Jeonghan crosses the ball over to another teammate. The teammate receives it with his head. He dribbles it forward for half a second and then shoots. Time nearly stops when he does. The goalie throws their entire body to block the ball, and every present body watches, stupefied, as the ball blows right past the goalie’s head and lands squarely within the goal.

And if you thought the previous goal’s celebration was loud, this one’s is deafening. The entire stadium roars in pride. Your school won. Jeonghan won. And you can’t stop fucking smiling.

—

Joshua convinces you to wait for Jeonghan and the rest of the team at Tim’s with him. You do. For matters of fake dating but also because you could really use a beer. Conversation with Joshua is fun and light. By the time you’re both on your second round, his politeness dims to tease you for your drink of choice. You see now why he’s one of Jeonghan’s closest friends.

There’s commotion towards the entrance. You turn your heads towards it and watch Jeonghan’s team rumble through the tiny door, yelling at god knows what and rushing to the bar.

Joshua stands to go say hi. You follow him, walking slightly behind. Jeonghan finds you before you both find him. He tackles Joshua first, hugging him from the side, and literally ‘whooping’ into his ear. Joshua smacks at his face at first, but eventually joins him in the repeated ‘whooping’ jumping up and down in celebration. Then Jeonghan sees you. The whooping fades. He stares.

You swallow.

“Yah!” He exclaims, releasing Joshua and pointing a finger at your shirt. “I thought I told you to wear the jersey I gave you.”

Your face drops. Whatever happened to ‘hi’, ‘hello’, ‘how are you’?

Joshua says something about the bathroom and walks to the back of the bar.

You shake your head at the remaining boy. “It’s a little bit concerning how good you are at lying, you know.”

“Well, we can’t have people suspecting us.” He retorts, stepping closer to you as someone passes behind him.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” You ask, quiet enough for no one else to hear, face scrunching. “I didn’t know what to say to Joshua earlier, but I can definitely make up a lie if you want to just–”

“Are you kidding?” He grabs you by the shoulders, shaking you back and forth. “I want you here! We have to celebrate. This was the biggest game of the season, and we won it!” Then, with that same crooked smile you noticed upon first meeting, he adds, “Plus, you’re not very good at lying.”

You scoff. “Even now, you have the capacity for assholery.”

His eyebrows zip together. “I don’t think that’s a word.”

“It could be.”

Someone pats Jeonghan on the back, handing him a drink. Jeonghan asks what it is. The other person tells him to just drink it. Jeonghan does so begrudgingly. You recognize the person to be player number 7.

“Hi, I’m Seungcheol,” number 7 says to you, holding out his hand. You shake it, introducing yourself and congratulating him on the game.

“Hey, is assholery a word?” Jeonghan asks his teammate, watching your face contort through a thousand different variations of annoyance and disbelief.

Seungcheol looks between the two of you. “Uh, no. Don’t think so.”

“Ha!” Jeonghan wags a finger in your face. “You owe me a drink.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but you head towards the bar with Jeonghan anyways, where you find Joshua again ordering the three of you a round of shots. “No, no,” he insists, when you try to tell him that you’re already buying drinks, “I owe Jeonghan a drink anyways.”

And as you find out throughout the course of the night, apparently every other patron at Tim’s owes Jeonghan a drink. You lose count of how many times you’ve heard him say so after your third beer. Joshua makes his exit soon after that and conveniently right before the team starts singing the fight song again. You start dreaming of bed when a guy you recognize as number 3 gets on a chair and starts leading the crowd.

Your phone buzzes.

Soonyoung [1:23 AM]: finished the report :0

Soonyoung [1:23 AM]: finally

Soonyoung [1:24 AM]: how’s tim’s

You [1:24 AM]: did you know they had a karaoke machine?

Soonyoung [1:25 AM]: do you not remember how i got banned in the first place

You [1:25 AM]: sore subject mb

You [1:27 AM]: damn how’d you finish the report so fast

You [1:27 AM]: you only started it after the game right

Soonyoung [1:28 AM]: u know me xD

An odd feeling settles in your stomach as they start the last stanza of the fight song. You shove your phone in your pocket and ask for the check.

By 2 am, the celebration is finally winding down, and the entire team is collectively too drunk to stand. “Come on, Jeonghan,” you pull him away as he says goodbye to his friends for the millionth time. “Let’s go home.”

He finally relents, turning away from his friends and throwing both his arms over your shoulders, hugging you from the back. “Let’s go to yours.”

“Mine? Why?”

“It’s closer.” Then after a moment, he bumps his chin against your shoulder and adds, “Plus, I wanna see your room.”

“Fine,” you huff and start walking. Jeonghan releases himself from your back, electing to walk on his own until you realize he’s too much of a wanderer to be unattached, drifting off to the edge of the sidewalk or in the wrong direction every chance he gets. He asks you to carry him. You settle for holding his hand. The two of you walk quietly back to your dorm. That is until Jeonghan starts humming the fight song again. You snap. “Is that the only song you guys know tonight?”

He stops humming and apologizes. You don’t say anything back. Then, very quietly, sounding so infuriatingly innocent, he says, “I didn’t mean to get this drunk.”

You’re an asshole. “No. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m just a little… upset right now.”

He burps. “Because of me?”

The look on his face when he says it pulls a laugh from between your lips. “No. Not because of you.” You make a right onto your street, dragging Jeonghan along as he tries to take a left. “Anyway, I thought student athletes weren’t supposed to drink.”

“No, we’re not supposed to get caught drinking.” Jeonghan holds out his hand in front of him, as if to say ‘stop’ to something invisible to you. “Very different.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Either way, I don’t drink that much.”

You scoff, stopping in front of the door to your building. “What do you mean? You drank last weekend.”

He shakes his head. “That was a special occasion.”

“And the occasion was…?”

He looks you dead in the eye.

“You make me nervous.”

Then, he turns around and vomits into the bushes behind him.

Once you get him to your apartment and in your bathroom, you leave him to vomit out the alcohol. Returning after the retching sounds recede and you’ve changed into pjs. He’s seated on the floor beside the toilet, eyes closed and head resting against the wall. You sit on the other side. Thank god, you cleaned this bathroom yesterday. “How do you feel?” You ask him.

He inhales. “Much better now that I…” He gestures to the toilet.

“Here.” You hand him a glass of water.

He opens his eyes and takes it, drinking from it slowly. “Sorry I got so drunk.”

“You already apologized 30 times on the way up here.” You remind him.

“But I’m really sorry.”

“And I really don’t mind.”

He considers that for a long moment. “You sure?”

You lean forward. “I’m sure. More water?”

He shakes his head, wordlessly eyeing your pajama pants. You look down at your snoopy pants. You hadn’t thought too hard about your choice of bottoms when you changed. “Cute.” He mutters, smiling at them.

You mumble back a ‘thanks’.

“So, what’d you think of the game?”

You tell him honestly how much fun you had watching them play, giving him every reaction you had to every move made and all your unfiltered opinions on the refs. He listens intently, filling you in on all the thoughts that ran through his head while they were playing and every conversation that happened on the sidelines.

“Thanks for coming.” He tells you once you’ve both exhausted all opinions relating to the game itself. “And for meeting Joshua and coming out to Tim’s afterwards and then getting me out of Tim’s too.”

“Jeonghan, it’s really not that big of a deal. And Joshua was a lot of fun to hang out with.”

“Hey, don’t get too attached.” He warns. “I’m the one you’re fake dating.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“So, then, as your fake boyfriend,” he gulps down the last of the water, “are you going to tell me what you were so upset about?”

You exhale, flexing your fingers. “It’s stupid.”

“And here I was thinking we had made a pact to be young and dumb.” You run your tongue over your top row of teeth, holding back a smile. “So, what happened?”

“I just got this text from Soonyoung that he finished this one assignment. And, I don’t know, I just felt so ridiculous because it took me so much longer than him to do.”

“Which assignment? The chem lab?”

You don’t remember telling Jeonghan about it. “Uh, yeah. How did you–”

“Man, who cares if it took you longer? I know Soonyoung, and I know you, and I bet yours is a million times better than his. No offense to Soonyoung, but I’m pretty sure he’d agree anyways.”

“Okay, you’re drunk.”

“That may be true, but it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re brilliant.”

Something about the way he says it, how steady his voice is maybe or the way he refuses to look away, forces you to see how much he believes it. But even that, doesn’t do much to change what you think.

“What are you talking about? I wouldn’t even be passing multi if it weren’t for you.” Your voice cracks as you say the words, making it all come out sounding much sadder than you had intended it to. You hope he doesn’t notice.

“That’s really not true.” You can’t even trust yourself to respond to him. He pouts. “Are you upset again?”

“A little.”

“I’m sorry. Let’s drop it.”

“Gladly.” Then, after a moment, you laugh at how silly it all is.

“First fight of the relationship.” He gives you your second half smile of the night. “I think we should hug it out.”

Your body reacts to the words before you do. “I disagree–”

“Did you just cringe?”

“–you smell like vomit.”

“Well, do you have clothes for me?”

“No, but I have a couch.”

He holds his index finger up. “I’ll take it.”

—

(When you wake up the next morning, Jeonghan’s gone. You open your phone and find 2 more apologies and 3 more thank you’s from him.

You try to ignore the twinge of disappointment.)

—

When the third weekend of fake dating rolls around, you admittedly are a bit tired of going to parties and getting drunk. So when Jeonghan asks what the plans are, you suggest he say that he’s taking you out on a date instead.

As such, you’ve spent nearly the entire day in bed. You’re heating up some water on the stove to make ramen when you get a text from Jeonghan saying he’s five minutes away. You stare at the text. The fuck does that mean?

Unsurprisingly, it ends up meaning that he was literally five minutes away. You open the door when he knocks and stare at him standing in the doorway.

“What are you wearing?” Is the first thing he says. You look down at your outfit. “You should’ve told me this was going to be a sweats kind of date before I put real clothes on.”

“Date?”

“Don’t look so surprised, it was your idea.” Jeonghan reminds you, strutting into your kitchen.

“No, no.” You say, returning to your boiling water. “My idea was to tell people we’re going on a date. Like as a cover.”

“Oh.” He falls down onto your couch. “Well I’m here so get dressed there’s this new ramen place I wanna try.”

You sigh, turning the stovetop off before trudging to your room to change.

The ‘date’ ends up being quite nice. You discuss a study plan to prepare for your math midterm over a much yummier bowl of ramen than you had planned on consuming today. Afterwards, you walk the streets of downtown, only intending to window shop. However, now, standing in a small boutique, Jeonghan tries to convince you to buy matching necklaces.

“Come on, they’re so cute.”

“We don’t need matching necklaces, Jeonghan.”

“A real couple would definitely have matching necklaces.”

“Good thing we’re not one.”

“Fine then. Guess I’ll just stop tutoring you in math too. You know Lubinsky’s midterms are almost as hard as his finals, right?”

You grab two of the necklaces and turn to the cashier. “How much?” You swear you hear Jeonghan whoop from behind you.

—

“Hey,” Jeonghan whispers, “we’re here.” You open your eyes slowly, not even registering that you fell asleep on the ride back to campus after the date-but-not-date. “You drool when you sleep by the way.”

And that wakes you up. You wipe whatever drool is left on your mouth, muttering a small and embarrassed ‘shut up’.

“What are you doing for the rest of your day?” He asks as you gather your things from his car.

“Absolutely nothing. Today’s the last day to rot before midterm prep starts.” You tell him, looking for your wallet. “What about you?”

“Avoiding a mixer at the house tonight.” He reaches into the center console and hands you the leather slip.

You take the wallet gratefully. “Wanna join me? We can make some tea. Watch a movie.”

He puts the car in park. “I know just what we should watch.”

And that’s how you end up on your couch with Jeonghan, two emptied mugs sitting on the coffee table, blanket draped over your legs, and the worst movie you’ve seen to date playing in the background.

“Wow, this movie sucks ass.”

“This,” Jeonghan gestures passionately to the screen, “is cinema.” You clasp your hands together as if in prayer. He takes a double take at the motion. “What are you doing?”

“I’m thanking god that your major is business and not film.” He immediately smacks apart your hands. “Don’t lie.” You say gasping for air between laughs. “This movie is objectively not good.”

His tongue peeks out between his lips, you practically see the smiling begging to emerge on his face. “Okay, so it might not be all that it was hyped up to be, but–”

“Ha!” You point a finger in his face. “I knew you hated it.” He slumps into the couch, pulling the blanket up to his chin. “Do you want more tea?” You ask. He soundlessly nods, refusing to move his eyes from the tv screen.

You stand to make some, grabbing both mugs from the table. “So, do you not have a roommate?” Jeonghan questions, as you pour water from the kettle into the mugs.

You look to the second, empty room of your apartment style dorm. “Actually, no. There was supposed to be someone there, but they moved or dropped out at the start of the year and the school never filled the room.”

“Ah.” Jeonghan clicks, nodding as if finally putting together the last piece of a puzzle “So, that’s why you’re so friendless.”

You return to the couch with full mugs. “I am not friendless.” He makes a face. “Really. I have friends.”

“Other than Soonyoung?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, name them.” You kick him under the blanket. “Fine. You have friends.” (“I have friends.”) “But how come you never talk about hanging out with them?”

You exhale slowly, sinking further into the couch. “I just didn’t do too well in school last semester, so I promised myself I would focus on classes this time around. And, I don’t know, I guess I just got so caught up in that and haven’t really been making the time or effort for hangouts.”

He tilts his head. “You know, I feel like there’s a world where you can do well in school while also maintaining your friendships. I mean we see each other regularly.”

“That’s because half of the time we’re studying.”

He gives you a look. “You know what I mean.”

You sigh, considering his point. Maybe at one point you would have thought the same. Last semester you even tried to have it all–the friends, the social life, the grades. But in the end, you dropped the ball. You can’t afford to make those same mistakes. “I just don’t think that world exists for me.”

He finally looks away from the tv and gives his full attention to you. His eyes seem to linger on every turn in your face. Quietly, he says, “So that’s what it is.” He doesn’t offer an explanation immediately. Instead, his chest deflates in one long exhale, and you smother the voice in your head that’s begging you to ask for one. And there’s this conviction in his voice, this breathtaking finality, when he says, “When are you going to believe me when I say that you’re one of the smartest people I know?” that scares the living shit out of you.

He looks at you again, and you swear to god, his eyes fall right through your frame. You swallow. “What about you?”

His eyebrows raise. “What about me?”

“Who are your friends? How do you spend all your time apart from classes, soccer, the frat, tutoring me and–oh my god, nevermind, new question. Do you even sleep?”

He takes a sip from the tea. “Don’t forget the business honor society. I’ll be the treasurer next fall.”

You squint at him. “Why?”

And like it’s the simplest, most obvious thing in the world he says, “oh, well, they asked.”

Suddenly, you’re reminded of all the times you’ve seen him get asked out on dates followed by every time he’s failed to say no. “Jeonghan,” you turn to him, setting down your mug. (“oh, this is serious, okay.”) You ignore him. “Can you not say no to people?”

He blows a raspberry. “I can say no. Ask me something.”

“Uhhhh,” you rack your brain, “how about–let’s go to the beach next weekend.”

The closest beach is 5 hours away, and yet he has the audacity to say, “Wait, that sounds like fun though.”

“I thought you hated the ocean.”

“Yeah, but maybe it’d be fun with you.”

You shake your head, muttering how impossible he is. The end credits of the movie finally plays.

“I should head out.” Jeonghan says, removing himself from under the blanket. You nod, grabbing the mugs of tea and bringing them to the kitchen. He follows you to the door. You both exchange the usual ‘this was fun’, ‘let’s do it again’, ‘I’ll see you later’ that ends every hangout you’ve had in college. But then, unlike every other person you’ve held the door open for as they leave, after Jeonghan says his final goodbye, he gives you a peck on the lips.

Did that just happen?

Your fingers touch against your lips. Oh my god, it did.

He blinks. “Sorry. I, uh, I don’t know why I just,” he points to your lips, swallowing, “lol. We’re always pretending and then now. And you. Okay, well, anyways, I’ll leave.”

He turns and doesn’t look back. You hear a ‘bye’ sound from the hallway.

And it’s only by the time he’s probably halfway home that it hits: You’ve never seen Jeonghan flustered like that.

—

The first day of midterm prep is brutal. You spend the entire night in the library, studying for hours on end. And once an hour, on the dot it seems, you hear Jeonghan’s voice in your head. There’s a world where you can do well in school while also maintaining your friendships. That very night you text your friends, asking if they want to join you in one of the library study rooms you have booked every evening this week. They do, excited to hear from you again and for the gentle encouragement to get a head start on studying. You hate to admit that Jeonghan was right, but goddammit he was. You have a blast with your friends. You had barely even realized how long you’d gone without seeing them and how much you missed them. By the time your Thursday afternoon tutoring with Jeonghan comes back around, you’re still on track with the study plan you created over ramen, and you have exciting news for him.

“A birthday party?” Jeonghan says, voice carefully devoid of the disdain you must know he feels.

“Yeah, they heard through whoever that we’re dating, and now they all want you to come.”

“But a birthday party?” He repeats. This time not trying to hide anything.

“Oh come on. I went to the game for you.”

“Yeah, but the game was fun.”

“This will be fun too!” You say in what you hope is an encouraging way.

“Fine. But promise you won’t ditch me for your friends.”

“You’re so dramatic.” You mutter. “But yes, I promise.”

That Friday night Jeonghan meets you at your apartment and the two of you head over to the party together.

Halfway down the hallway to your friend’s apartment, Jeonghan suddenly halts. “Shit, should I have brought something?”

“Like what?”

“A gift? Wine? I don’t know.”

“Jeonghan, it’s a party. Don’t overthink it.” You tell him, opening the door to your friend’s apartment.

You step into her entryway and immediately feel like you’ve been transported into another world. The lights are all off save for some LED lights wrapped around the living room ceiling. An assortment of stacked red solo cups, yak-worthy bottles of vodka, and seltzers take over all available kitchen counter space. Some old pop song from an artist you know your friend loves plays loudly from the tv, reverberating through every pair of ears shoved into this tiny apartment. You inhale. The air reeks distinctly of college. You love it.

“Oh my god, there’s even people on the balcony.” Jeonghan whispers in your ears. You pivot your head around to look at him. He looks back at you, unassuming. “What?”

This entire scene is one you’re quite familiar with, having spent many nights just like this in previous semesters. But as you watch Jeonghan gape at the amount of people fitted into the kitchen alone, you figure he might not be as acquainted with this. “Yoon Jeonghan, is this your first apartment party?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Is it not yours?”

But before you can tell him all about the life you used to live before him, your friends find you attacking you with hugs and introducing themselves to Jeonghan.

Jenny, the birthday girl in question, sloppily points at both of you and says, “I’ve been drinking since noon. You need to catch up.”

After a minute of half-hearted protest, you oblige, heading over to the kitchen area. You grab two cups, handing Jeonghan one. “There’s soda over there if you’re not drinking tonight,” you tell him, pointing to the area beside the sink where a line of mixers await.

He looks over at the bottles, then looks back at you. “Are you drinking?”

“Yes!” Your friend Daniel yells from over the music. You just shrug, reaching for one of the handles. “I guess so.”

Jeonghan inhales sharply, holding out his cup for you to pour. “I’ll have what you’re having then.”

You hesitate, open bottle hovering over the lip of his cup. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Why?”

You frown. “I was thinking about what you said after the game about how you don’t drink that much, and I don’t want you to drink just because I am. I can not drink too.”

He pushes his cup up. “What was it you said earlier? It’s a party. Don’t overthink it.”

Then he gives you that crooked half smile that you’ve come to know so well. You pour him a drink and pour yourself one too. You turn back to your friends, holding up your cup for a cheers.

“Wait, wait, what are we cheersing to?” Daniel asks, grabbing his cup from behind him and holding it up, tapping on Jenny’s shoulder for her to do the same.

It’s Jeonghan who answers. Looking straight at you, he holds his cup up high and says, “To friends.”

You bring the drink up to your lips smiling, watching him watching you. All four of you down your drinks. The drink is absolutely terrible, burning a path down your throat all the way down. Jeonghan hands you another cup, whispering ‘it’s coke’ with an equally pained expression on his face. You take it gratefully.

“God,” Jenny says, placing a hand on her chest while watching the exchange between you and Jeonghan, “they’re like an old married couple already. How have we missed all this?”

“I know.” Daniel says, shaking his head. “I can still barely believe it.”

You glare at him. “Hey, what’s so hard to believe?”

They both ignore you, turning their attention to Jeonghan instead.

“So, we’ve heard all the boring–how you guys met, first date–sort of stuff, but we want to know the juicy details–”

“Jenny, don’t you have other guests to attend to or–”

“Yeah,” Daniel joins in, “like what’s your favorite thing about them?”

You turn to Jeonghan immediately. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“My favorite part,” Jeonghan starts, ignoring your plea to not humor them and tapping a finger on his chin in thought. He must find it after a moment, pausing the tapping and stealing a glance your way. “Probably how much fun I have with them.” He says to your friends. “I feel like we’re always laughing together or just having a good time. I’ve never been able to talk to someone as easily as I do with them. Like you know how when you get towards the end of a really good book, and you just can’t put it down, pushing everything else to the side to keep reading. Hanging out with them is like that.” Turning back to look at you, he adds, “I never want it to end.”

You hold his gaze while Jenny and Daniel erupt into a series of awes and exclamations. Deep in your gut, you know that you should be focusing on the kind smile on his face or the sudden rapidity in your heartbeat, but instead, more cruelly, you wonder how much of that was a lie he made up to appease the role of your fake boyfriend.

You turn to pour yourself another drink. He holds his cup out as well. You pour for two.

“You okay?” He asks, pouring some fruit punch into both your cups as well.

You nod. You have no reason to be upset. So taking a sip of the drink, you decide you’re not. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“We should play a game,” he says, taking a sniff of your jointly made concoction.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, like…” He looks around the apartment. “We have to drink every time we see someone kissing.”

“What kind of rule is that?”

“No. It’ll be fun.” He says, scanning the apartment again. He sucks in air between his teeth. “Damn, I thought there’d be more kissing than this for some reason.”

You laugh at his cluelessness, and then lean in to kiss his cheek. “There.” You say, clinking your cup against his. “Now, we can drink.”

He taps a finger to the tip of his nose twice, then points it at you, before taking two large gulps of his drink.

The game actually does a good job of getting you and Jeonghan drunk once Jenny catches wind if it and starts giving out birthday kisses to whoever will take one. After a while, you make the executive decision that you need a break and escape to the bathroom to piss. When you exit back into the hallway off the living room, Jeonghan is there, leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for you. He hands you your cup back. “Your friends are terrible, terrible enablers,” he says, motioning for you to drink up while taking a drink himself. You whimper, leaning against the wall beside him and readmitting the dreaded liquid to your body.

“So,” you bump your shoulder against his, “are you having fun?”

He shifts his entire body to face you, shoulder resting against the wall, back turned to the entire party. He puts his face right in front of yours, narrows his eyes at you playfully, and says, “did you even listen to what I said?”

You put a hand on his shoulder. Just to have something between his body and yours. “What?”

He grins cheekily, letting out a puff of air that smells like cherry. “I always have fun with you.”

You laugh. Then in a voice sober you would be embarrassed of, you say, “And you never want it to end?”

He sticks his tongue out just barely, laughing into your neck. “And I never want it to end.”

You kiss him.

You don’t stop to think about what it might mean tomorrow or even in the next hour. You don’t stop to think about the fact that you’re too drunk to be initiating kisses or the possibility that he is. You don’t stop to think about anything, other than how much you love the sound of his laugh and how badly you want to feel his lips on yours again.

The kiss starts slowly, a shy orchestration of lips and breath. Your nose bumps against his, and he pulls away. He looks at you with those damn eyes, like it’s the first time all over again. And for some reason you can’t explain you bitterly think that it was always going to end like this.

He cups his free hand against your cheek and pulls you back in. Your lips meet in an open-mouthed kiss that has nothing slow and shy about it. No. It’s sloppy, hurried, and hungry. It’s tongue and teeth, crashing and colliding over and over again. It’s your body against his, every rise of your chest battling against his You wrap your free hand against his torso, pulling him impossibly closer. His hand moves from where it was holding your face to travel over the back of your head and your neck, sliding halfway down your back before pulling forward to run from your waist down to your hip. It lingers there for a moment before continuing further to grip the back of your thigh, pulling your knee up the side of his leg and holding it there against his hip.

A commotion sounds from the living room. “Oh shit.” You say breathlessly, pulling away from him. “I think she’s going to pop the champagne.”

“Okay.” He breathes, before kissing you again. You laugh in his mouth, whispering his name and pushing a hand against his chest. Finally, he lets go of your leg. You lead him back to the rest of the party where everyone is crowding around the balcony entrance. You and Jeonghan stand in the living room, watching from the window as Jenny struggles to pop the cork. She gets it after a moment, yelping at the sudden burst and spraying it over the edge of the balcony. Once the champagne dies down enough to not be overflowing, she brings the bottle to her lips and chugs. Everyone counts.

1! Jeonghan steps closer to you, wrapping his arms around your torso and hugging you from the back. You have to remind yourself to catch your breath.

2! He rests his chin on your shoulder. Without even thinking about it, you rest your head against his. His voice is a warm breath on your neck.

3! You recall what he said to your friends at the start of the party and again to you right before the kiss. Did he mean it? Does he really not want this to end?

4! Your eyes glance over at his. He looks happy. He looks like he’s finally given himself the chance to be young and stupid, which from the start, is all you ever wanted for him. So then why does it make you feel so suddenly grief-stricken?

5! “Why didn’t you tell Joshua about us?” You ask him quietly, voice drowned out by the counting for everyone other than him.

6! He angles his chin towards you. “What do you mean? He knows we’re dating.”

7! “No, I mean why didn’t you tell him that it’s fake.”

8! He stands up straight. Fuck the counting. You turn to look at him. “He’s your best friend, isn’t he?”

9! He looks at you carefully. “Did you tell Soonyoung that it’s all been fake?”

10! You haven’t even answered him yet, but somehow, he already knows what you’re going to say.

11! “Yes.” And even alcohol couldn’t have hidden the distinct look of betrayal painted all over his face.

12! He looks down into his cup and chuckles darkly. “Why did we just kiss?”

13! You swallow. Shit. “Someone was looking at you, like–well, you know what like.”

14! He doesn’t say anything. You recount his words back to him. “Sealing the deal, remember.”

15! His eyes bore into yours. How could you have been so stupid?

16! Please, you want to beg, say something.

17! He shakes his head, smiling emptily. “Tell your friends it was nice to meet them.”

18! He doesn’t wait to hear if you have anything left to say. He turns, and you watch him disappear from the party.

The rest of the numbers blur in your head.

—

(That night you had called Soonyoung, sobbing over the phone, feeling more drunk then, in your apartment than you had at any other point that night.

“What’s wrong?” Alarm was flush in his voice. “What happened? Are you okay?”

The only thing Soonyoung could even make out was a very sad, very quiet, “I ruined it.”)

—

You haven’t talked to Jeonghan since Jenny’s party. He hasn’t texted you either. Staring at your upcoming midterm on Thursday and the extra study session with Jeonghan scheduled for Wednesday, you feel, quite lamely, mocked by your own calendar. But more than anything, you’re mad that he’s left you to study all alone the week of your midterm. You’re mad that you’re so busy replaying that night in your head, you can barely pay attention to the practice tests. You’re mad that, right now, sitting at the spot you guys always sat at in the library, you don’t have him. And you’re terrified of the creeping thought that you never really did.

By the time the midterm does come around, you’re exhausted. Not from studying or lack of sleep, but just from the sheer willpower it’s taken all week to not think about Jeonghan. You feel oddly calm going into the exam, the usual anxious chatter of students around you and rattling of chairs and pencils, not freaking you out as much as it normally would. You take the midterm, one question at a time, just as Jeonghan instructed you to do with every homework and every quiz. And then, 40 minutes in, you finish. Astonishingly, you even have enough time left to check over your work. So you do, fixing minor rounding and calculation errors, until you’re faced again with a completed exam and 15 minutes left.

You get to do something you haven’t done since high school: you turn it in early.

—

You spend the rest of that day in between your bed and your couch, struggling even more now than before to ignore thoughts of Jeonghan and your last conversation with him. For the past several weeks, Thursday afternoons were monopolized by Jeonghan, but today, watching the sun set outside your window, you’ve spent it all alone. The finality of what happened last weekend finally hits you: you might never speak to Jeonghan again. You really did ruin it. Suddenly, the urge to weep overcomes you. You turn on the tv instead, looking for a movie to watch. And of course it must be fate's petty joke on you that the first movie that pops up is the one you watched with Jeonghan after your date. You groan into your pillow before switching to something else.

By the time the movie is almost over and the sun has fully set, your phone rings. You had been checking it obsessively earlier and had therefore set it a bit farther away from where you were sitting. But at the sound of the ring, you’re ashamed to admit that you literally leapt for it. Your mind reads the caller id and is instantly flooded with an odd mix of relief and anxiety. Jeonghan is calling. Holy shit, Jeonghan is calling.

Your voice is shaky when you answer. “Hello?”

“Hey, this is Jeonghan’s partner right?” Your mouth parts at the voice that most definitely does not belong to Jeonghan. Who is this man? Why does he have Jeonghan’s phone? Why does it hurt your heart so much when he calls you Jeonghan’s partner? You must sit in your shock for too long because the mystery caller speaks again, sounding somewhat annoyed. “This is Seungcheol from the team. This is who I think it is, right? Because your number was saved as ‘my cutie’ with like a million heart emojis, so if not, this is about to get really awkward.” You have no idea how to respond to that. Finally, Seungcheol says your name. “This is you, right?”

You inhale sharply. “Yeah, uhm, sorry yes. Is everything alright? Aren’t you guys at practice right now?”

“Yeah, well we’re about to end, but here’s the thing…” Seungcheol then explains how terribly Jeonghan’s been playing this week, overly aggressive, missing every pass, fucking up every cross. And today, halfway through practice he hurt his shoulder and the coach sat him out entirely, forcing him to sit on the sidelines and just watch. Safe to say, this did not go over well with him, and he’s been laying down on the bench head buried in his arms, snapping at everyone who approaches him ever since. Seungcheol had to use a fake emergency bathroom break as a chance to run away to the locker room and make this call. “Do you know what’s going on with him?”

Of course you know, and it’s all your fault. You really did ruin everything with one kiss. “I–”

“Fuck, I’m running out of time. Never mind that.” Seungcheol says, cutting you off. “Can you just come down and be here, when we get off practice? Jeonghan drove over so you both can take his car back, but I think he just really needs someone here with him today.”

You wince. “Seungcheol, actually, I–”

“No, no, please. You don’t understand. I think I saw him crying on the bench. He needs you. Come.” Then after a slight hesitation he adds, “If you can. Please.”

You don’t even know what to say, but it doesn’t matter because just then the call ends. You stare at your phone, considering the options. Stay here and wallow. Or go, and try to salvage everything you’ve broken. And while you are a very accomplished wallower, you know which one you have to do. You drag your feet all the way over to your room to change.

You pace outside the field waiting for them, running through every possible scenario in your head. It does nothing, only worsening the condition of your already ailing heart. You drop down onto the curb, holding your head in your hands. Maybe he won’t even see you like this. You can’t tell if you prefer or hate that possibility.

Something bumps into your back. You look up and find Jeonghan staring down at you. You stand up so quickly your head starts to spin. Looking at him, you realize that this is the longest you’ve gone without seeing or talking to each other since meeting. You hated every second of it. But you think you might hate the look on his face right now more.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, words devoid of all the little quirks that make him him.

“Seungcheol called me.”

His face twitches. “Why?”

“He said that you–” you halt, selfishly wondering if it’s too late to abandon this ship. “How’s your shoulder?”

He looks at it, rolling it out once. He shrugs. “It’s fine now.”

You nod.

He then surprises you by asking: “How was your midterm?” Your eyes widen, searching his face for… you’re not even sure what. You don’t find it anyways.

You shift your weight uncomfortably. “It went well actually.”

He nods.

“Do you want a ride back?

He scoffs quietly. You flinch. “Can you even drive?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“How would you get back to yours?”

“I don’t know. Walk. Or maybe a bus. Or I could even–”

He doesn’t even let you finish. Voice raising when he asks again, “Why are you here?”

The words come out before you can stop them, tone matching his. “Because I’m sorry!”

“For what?”

“For kissing you!” He drops his duffle bag on the floor. “I don’t know!”

He parts his lips, inhaling as if to speak, but then he looks straight in your eyes and loses every word he might’ve wanted to say. He picks up his duffle and walks over to his car. “Jeonghan, please say something. I miss you, and I hate this. I just want to at least talk about what happened before we never speak again.”

He shoves his bag into the backseat and slams the door shut. He points to the car. “You coming?”

“Where?”

“I’ll drop you home.”

You don’t even know why you let him, but you do, sliding in the passenger seat and waiting until the car is started and moving to say something.

Or at least, that was the plan. But then you lose all the nerves you built up on your walk over and keep quiet the entire drive back to your place. It’s only when he stops in front of yours, ignition shutting off, that they build back enough for you to say, “Jeonghan, I–”

“I’m not mad because of the kiss.” He finally says, voice much softer than before. His eyes stay trained on the dashboard. “The kiss was…” He chokes on the word while the tiniest of smiles breaks like light after a storm on his face. “The kiss was perfect.” Your stomach momentarily turns into a gymnast. “I’m not even mad at all. I’m just,” You lean in after the words, as if waiting to catch them in your hands. He shakes his head once and then turns to look at you fully. “I’m upset because you think this has all been fake when, if I’m being brutally honest, I haven’t been faking anything since that first party.”

Oh.

Holy fucking shit.

He chuckles darkly, hitting his head lightly against the steering wheel. “Now, I know what it feels like to be on the opposite end of this.”

You can’t help yourself. “How is it?”

He groans. “It’s like a thousand stomach aches throughout your entire body.”

You want to take him out of his misery, but, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything.”

“I don’t think–”

“No, I’m serious.” He mutters. He looks pained. “Remember when you said that I can’t say no to people? This is it. I’m saying no.” He smiles at you, but you know his eyes too well and you know when there’s nothing in them. His breath catches. “I’m really happy about your midterm. I always knew you didn’t need me.”

He looks away after that, turning the car back on, an obvious signal for you to get out. Selfishly, you don’t. You take two more seconds to stare at his face, his eyes, his hair, his hands. Then you unbuckle your seatbelt and step out of the car.

He doesn’t wait long before he drives away.

You walk back up to your dorm in a stupor of sorts. You unlock the door, step through the kitchen, walk like a zombie to your room, and stare at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes travel over your whole frame, and for some reason they fall to rest at your neck. More specifically, your necklace.

You’re out of the door, running before you even know it. Breathlessly, turning onto the road that leads to the opposite side of campus. 30 minutes away. This of course turns out to be a terrible, terrible idea. You do not run. But you get there eventually. Speed walking up to the door of Jeonghan’s frat house and knocking vigorously.

Soonyoung happens to be the one that opens it. “Oh, hey! How was your–Why can’t you breathe?”

You ignore him. “Is Jeonghan here?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think he’s back from practice yet. Why? What happened? Did you guys make up yet?”

“No, but, Soonyoung, I’ve been so stupid. This whole time I kept gabbing on and on, but I was blind. It was him. It was always–”

You hear a familiar voice say your name. Not just familiar. Your favorite voice. You turn to face him.

And you can’t help it, you grin.

You’re distantly aware of Soonyoung closing the door behind you.

“How did you get here?”

“I ran.” He makes a face. “Well, partly.”

“I told you to–”

“I know what you said.”

“Fine.” He sighs. “I didn’t–well, not like this, but listen. It’s okay if you don’t care–”

“But the thing is Jeonghan,” you say, the sentences and words you had prepared on the way over blurring together all in a rush to get out of your head and into his, “I do. There was no one looking at you at Jenny’s party. I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I wanted it. I hate sports. Really, ask Soonyoung, but I went and watched your game and had fun because you asked me to and because I don’t have the capacity to actually say no to your face. I thought I hated that smirk you do, but really I just hate how flustered it makes me feel. And I’m sorry that I took the whole young and stupid thing too close to heart, but,” you pull the matching necklace out from under your shirt. “If I didn’t care, would I still be wearing this? Would I be able to stand here and tell you and I haven’t taken it off since we bought it? And that that date was the best date I’ve ever been on.” You let go of the necklace, inhaling sharply. “I care, Jeonghan.” Then, as if it needs to be clarified, you add, “about you.”

You stare at him, waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

He turns around, takes two steps away from you, and then immediately plops his ass on the ground. You hear a whimper. “I thought I was going to lose you.” You approach him slowly, like a cat you’re trying like hell not to scare. You kneel down on the pavement beside him. He wipes his tears. “Don’t laugh.” He cries, already sensing the one bubbling in your throat. You shake your head as a swear not to. Which you break a second after the fact, turning your head to the side, desperately trying to hide it behind your hand. “Bully!” He exclaims.

“No. No.” You say, composing yourself and turning back to him. His tears are wiped, but a pout remains on his face. You cup your hands against his cheeks. “It’s just really cute.”

“It’s embarrassing.” He huffs.

You shake your head. “I love it.” Then you kiss him. It’s a slow and sweet kiss. You relish in it. There’s no rush anymore. No deadline. He isn’t going anywhere. Neither are you. You have all the time in the world with him.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen smut #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan angst #svt scenarios #mine #young & stupid

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reidgenius · 2 months ago

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Low Pain Tolerance | S.R. x Reader

image by reidgif <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Word Count: 1.4k Category: angst, hurt/comfort? Warnings: commitment issues, wildly insecure!reader (it's really just me) A/N: I haven't written for Spencer before, so please excuse any OOC inaccuracies and be nice okay! I am a long-time lurker/admirer of the lovely @pathologicalreid and am writing this for her cutesy margovember event :) Song Inspo: Low Pain Tolerance by Abby Holliday

You never enjoyed running.

Still, that didn't stop you from doing it often. Whether it be on the job or in a relationship, you ran.

To catch a bad guy. To catch yourself before you fall. To stop something terrible before it happens... You ran.

In this instance, you found yourself running from Spencer Reid.

"Would you look at me? Please?" he pleaded.

You knew if you were to turn around that you'd see his glassy doe eyes and be drawn right back in. You knew your weaknesses, and he was certainly one of them. The biggest one. That's why you stayed put, staring at his bedroom wall.

"I can't, Spence." You meant to say it with finality, but it came out more as a whimper.

"You can't look at me, or you can't-"

"Neither. Both."

As the holidays approached, Spencer had mentioned the idea of the two of you making a trip out to Vegas. "Just for a day or two," he'd promised. Though there wasn't much he treasured about home, you knew that his mother was there, and that was more than reason enough.

This evening, he'd brought it up again after letting you avoid the topic for weeks.

"It's only a matter of time before you figure it out," you admit.

"Figure what out?"

"God, Spence, that I'm only bringing you down!" you nearly shouted, though you hadn't meant to. The anxiety took over. "I'm like... gahhh! I don't know how to do any of this, I-"

To your dismay, he let out a laugh as you finally turned to face him. A real, genuine laugh.

"Bringing me down?" He looked at you with an earnest amusement. "Honey, I don't think you realize what you-"

"I'm scared. Okay? Is that what you wanted me to admit? That I'm scared of meeting her?" A single tear gushed down your cheek.

His brows knit in concern as he quickly thought of ways to disprove the common fears surrounding schizophrenia and it's manifestations.

"Baby, schizophrenia doesn't ma-"

"Dammit Spencer, it's not about that! It's- I..."

You found yourself stumbling over your words.

"I don't care about her diagnoses!" you laughed. (Of course, you did care, but that wasn't what was scaring you.) "I'm scared of this!" you said, waving your hands between the two of you. "I don't want to rush it. I don't want to get her hopes up..."

You let your legs give way to sit on the floor against the wall, your head in your hands, mumbling to the cold hardwood.

"I don't want to get my hopes up."

There was it. That was the truth.

You weren't used to it. You weren't used to someone asking you how your day was and really caring. You weren't used to the notion that a man would want to wrap himself around you at night and keep you close. You'd never been one to draw much attention from men. Or women. Or anyone, really.

Naturally, you figured that there must be something deeply and inherently flawed in you. Something Spencer had yet to discover.

So, being with him was... terrifying. You were constantly waiting and wondering when he'd conclude that you weren't as pretty as he initially thought, or as witty, or as intelligent, or kind, or...

And it would only be cruel to drag Diana into this. To have her think that perhaps her son had found his person. To have her thinking that she might be meeting her future daughter-in-law. It felt cruel to yourself, in some twisted way, to pretend that this was all going to last.

Spencer was typically a fast thinker, but your admission had the cogs in his brain working overtime. You were afraid of him? Of your relationship?

He padded over to join you on the floor, keeping a little distance so as not to scare you.

"Get your hopes up? You don't-" he gulped, "I mean... you don't think we're gonna- that this is gonna work out?"

Still speaking to the floor, you sigh, "I don't know, Spence."

You were exhausted. Incessantly feeling like you're on the brink of being "found out" can do that to a person. It's not that Spencer hadn't done all the right things. No, he was the perfect partner. But therein lied the issue. He was perfect. And, in your opinion, you were far, far from it.

You took a deep breath through your tears.

"I don't think I can keep doing this."

Confusion. Utter shock. Things had been going so well with you the past 8 months. Spencer immediately began to wrack his brain combing through all the possible mistakes he could've made. Did he raise his voice with you? Had he forgotten some big milestone? Was he not giving you enough?

"Honey I-" he gathered himself, placing a hand on your thigh, "I'm so sorry. Can I ask... what makes you say all this?"

Though you were reluctant, you figured that now was as good a time as any.

"Spencer. I am not good for you! Good enough for you!" With each point, you illustrated by raising a finger, "I am impulsive and I complain and I get weird sometimes when you touch me and I can be a massive bitch and I never know how to-"

"Woah, woah, woah-" He snuck up closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and placing his head atop yours, all while you kept rambling. "Why in the world do you say that? Not good enough for me? If anything it's me who isn't deserving of you..."

"No, you-"

He stopped you in your tracks just by saying your name in that beautiful way he does. Like its covered in honey and dripping with admiration.

"You are everything. You may think those things about yourself but I certainly don't." His thumb caressed your bare skin so carefully as he continued, speaking slowly so as to allow the words to really sink in. "You are the most generous person I've ever encountered. You care so deeply about people you love. You are courageous and willing to try all the weird foods I suggest even though you really don't want to." He smirked a bit at that one. "You have taken everything that life has thrown at you and navigated it with grace. You really are just... you're it. You're her. You're the girl - the woman - I've always hoped would come my way but never dreamed actually would. Honey, I've figured out everything I need to know when it comes to how I feel about you."

You sat there, warm under his embrace, pondering his words as he spoke. It's nothing he hasn't said before, granted, in much less grand and emotionally charged ways. But it was like you were really hearing it for the first time. You wanted so badly to believe him.

"I love you," he continued. "I love you so much that sometimes I am afraid of myself. Of what I'd do for you. You, god, you make me so much better."

"I love you, too. Too much," you squeaked out.

"No. Not too much." He leaned back to encourage you to look up at him. "You know I really mean all that right? Just the way you are. Quirks included?"

"I guess. And now I'm just self-conscious that I am so self-conscious..."

"You say that as if I'm not the exact same way!" he chuckles, trying to make light of what is clearly a shared wound. You'll deal with that later. Together, preferably. "Please, trust me. Do you trust me?"

And you did. You trusted Spencer with every cell in your body and hair on your head. There was nobody else you'd ever been so confident in. So, you nod against his chest as your tears begin to subside.

"Good. Now why don't we move this party up into the bed?"

"No offense, Spencer, but the last thing I want right now is to f-"

"No no no nooope! Not that, babe," he laughed. "Just wanna lay with you 'til this feeling passes. Is that okay?"

"Please."

And so, the rest of the evening consisted of cuddles under your massive comforter. Sweet admissions whispered in your ear. The tiniest kisses to your hairline and your shoulder and your nose and your wrists.

By the time you dozed into a worry-free slumber, you believed him a little more.

Perhaps you could let Spencer love you, forever.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #divider by bunnysrph #margovember #criminal minds fic #Spencer Reid fic #Spencer Reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you

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wonryllis · 1 year ago

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ʬʬ. ! POKER FACE ﹙ SHE'S GOT ME LIKE NOBODY ﹚

𝒏o𝓉ℯs. park sunghoon with fem!reader 𖥔 ݁ enemies but secretly in love and oblivious, fluff. LIB? word count `2375

prompt. wiping a bit of frosting (or smth else) off of their cheek while eating and taking it for themself from list 02. part of this event by @okwonyo

JAY VER. JAKE VER. SUNGHOON VER: one-sided

"you look like a chipmunk," and i wanna kiss you so bad right now. sunghoon really wishes he could do that, grab your jaw, fingers digging into your soft puffed cheeks, and pull you against him as he smashes his lips into yours.

he's been dreaming of it for as long as he can remember. for as long as he knew he shouldn't be dreaming of that. for as long as he knew you have hated him and for as long as he has been supposed to be hating you too.

look sunghoon doesn't really have a solid reason to hate you besides the fact that you crush on his best friend (especially when he's been here all along?) but if getting to talk to you and sticking close by comes at the cost of pretending to do, then he doesn't really mind it. though it doesn't do much because everyone, from friends to professors, everyone can see how he's been waiting on the opportunity to jump you.

and you? you are the most oblivious thing there can ever be. sunghoon could be right up in your face, whispering sweet nothings and everything in between and you'd refuse to believe he feels anything but hatred for you. if not that then annoyance? because you for sure are always annoyed at him and his flirty antics.

"shut-" he's suddenly reaching forward and across the table, hands cupping your cheek, oh god he's melting you're so soft, thumb swiping against your skin to wipe off the salad dressing. he puts it into his mouth next, sucking off the sweet sauce with an irritating smirk on his face,"so cute," a look of lure in his hooded eyes staring at you,"eat slowly baby no one's gonna take your foo-,"

"m nat yiur baby!" you interrupt immediately, speaking through the stuffed salad in your cheeks, eyes shifting back and forth to heeseung sitting beside him. praying he wouldn't misunderstand even though your insanely fast beating heart clearly knows who it's beating for.

"come on babies don't speak with full mouth, no matter how cute you look," i'm gonna die if you don't stop right now sunghoon feels like he'll combust any moment, blow his cover and mess everything up. he doesn't give a shit that your crush aka his friend, is sitting right next to him, if anything he's doing it in front of him on purpose even though he knows the boy has got no feelings for you. he has just got something for the way your face scrunches adorably when you get annoyed, and how your oh so kissable lips turn into an angry pout that does nothing to show your anger but tempt him even more.

"ou knww wat m levnig," grabbing your plate with you, you give heeseung a tight lipped cheery little smile and two short kicks under the table to sunghoon before leaving the area.

fuck park sunghoon and fuck his hotness and fuck how he gets to you every single time. your heartbeat keeps on getting higher and skipping beats with each step you take, repeatedly hearing his words in your head again and again. even more so when you hear the sound of his footsteps behind you, those very familiar clicking of his chelsea dress shoes that suit him devilishly well.

"enjoy," sunghoon leaves the table after you, patting his friend's back in a quick apology and rushing away.

"yo chipmunk cheeks! wait up for me!"

"get away!"

just fucking kiss already. lee heeseung has had it enough already. he can't stand third wheeling anymore, it's making him sick. he needs to get you two into seven minutes in heaven or something. just anything to end whatever this is you have going on with him stuck in between.

"whatcha doin baby chicks?" sunghoon's annoying ass voice has you looking up from your book, eyes following him as he drags out the chair beside yours and plops himself down smugly. he's alone. he's alone alone.

"where's heeseung?" you ask, remembering how he promised he'd bring along the boy for a study date. the sole reason you agreed to meet him in the library.

"somewhere between those shelves," sunghoon fingers point towards the rows behind your table,"probably getting you know what," he suggests, resting his head on his hands, staring at you trying to find your guy. "liar, he's not like you," you retort and it has sunghoon grinning from ear to ear,"hm, what do you think i am like?" there's a hint of amusement and a tone of teasing in his voice, it makes it hard for you to conceal your nervousness. so many times of it happening yet you still can't control the fluttering butterflies and sparks in your stomach. are you sure you're crushing on the right person? well heeseung is nice he helps you with notes from missed classes and most importantly doesn't taunt you for being second.

"a predator," nevertheless trying to outwardly stand your ground is something you have learned to do when it comes to him. do not show how weak he gets you. do not let him have the upper hand. that's been your motto since day one.

you almost feel your heart jumping out of your chest when he bends to grab the seat of your chair and pulls you closer, leaning so close to your face, you feel his breath hit your lips with every exhale,"so you must be my pretty little prey?" if you move just an inch forward you'd end up smearing your cherry gloss on his chapped lips, feeling hyper aware of every little movement from the touch of his fingers near the hem of your skirt to the little shifting you do in your seat. fidgeting and constant staring at each other's lips. the faint hovering of his palm on your thighs, the other lingering over hand resting on the table, like a cage in between,"you're gettin-"

"guys i finally found it!" you're snapped out of it when heeseung slams a pile of books on the table, hands flapping up to slap against sunghoon's chest and push him away with all the might you got.

it takes you a few minutes to settle yourself down into calm, ignoring the way sunghoon complains about being harshly shoved for apparently no reason. and smiling at heeseung as he explains how he'd been trying to look for some books on zoology which somehow happened to always be borrowed out, that is until today. you take a second look at the books he shows, hitting an embarassing realization, eyes switching between the two guys.

"wait- you were looking for these books over there?" pointing to the same rows sunghoon did initially.

"what else were you thinking in that tiny head of yours, chipmunk?" sunghoon wiggles his brows suggestively knowing exactly what you were thinking of, enjoying the way you come to the horrific realization of how you both were just flirting, more specifically of what you implied and what you didn't deny.

"nothing, shut up and do your own work!" a poor attempt at brushing it off but he'll let it go since you aren't really alone right now. a lovesick grin, eyes trained on you the entire time. only heeseung notices and once again wonders of when you'll knock it off.

"miss second place at a frat party? that's new," if there's hell, yours is definitely tied to sunghoon, your personal lucifer on guard. amidst a roaring crowd of people he still manages to find you and get on your nervous in a matter of seconds. time and again he's proven to be the bane of your existence.

"shouldn't that go for you, mr first place? don't you want to keep it?" against the counter on the far end of the kitchen, he has you trapped.

"keeping you? i think i already have it," his lips grazing over your ear as he whispers in a low voice, pulling away immediately to leave you wanting for more. "no i-" you shutter for the first time in front of him, shit.

"i meant the last assignment, i scored more than you," you sound much softer and tinier than you would have ever liked to, but your brain's in such a mess you can't think straight.

"you're so studious it's cute but chipmunk i couldn't give a shit about being second place to you, you can take my place any time you like," he gets so much closer again you start panicking, if you don't get out of here right now, losing all your pride and prudence to him wouldn't be impossible anymore.

pushing him away slightly you hope he'd give way to you,"i'm gonna go find heeseung," adding all the more reason to it. "let me help you with that," but he's adamant on not leaving you alone today. six months of watching you have a crush on his best friend and he's had enough.

dragging you out to the living room, he brings you to the couch on the other end of where heeseung stands surrounded by his group of friends. and sitting down on it, is immediately pulling you onto his lap, hands going around the waist to hold you close,"let's make him jealous," his lips brush against yours, getting a sweet taste of your lipgloss. just like how he's always imagined.

"kiss me,"

and heeseung sighs from across the room. fucking finally.

taglist. ( open ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @nanabbg @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly

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bblairxe · 3 months ago

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drunk confessions ‘nd discipline | a.a

cw : smutish?, mdni, r!masturbating, slight voyeurism, plot, teasing, r!alcohol consumption, mentions of alcohol and weed, profanity, slight humiliation, dom!abby if you squint :p

wc : 1.4k

a/n : sorry for the ending i got bored of this, but lmk if you guys would want a pt 2! :)

abby’s been on patrol for god knows how long, and you’ve just been waiting around the shared room for hours. every minute that passes is another minute of waiting for that door to unlock so you can cover her with kisses—and possibly fucked relentlessly with that strap.

except, that last part probably won’t happen, since abby claims you’ve been soooo bad recently. all you did was moan her name in public in front of all her friends. that’s not even that bad, right?

it was late at night when abby said she was going to a bonfire with her friends and invited you to tag along. so, you did. you wanted to look nice for her but figured it was just a bonfire, nothing special, so you threw on a black crop top and some baggy jeans.

once the two of you arrived, the aroma of alcohol and weed lingered in the air. “oh yeah, this is my type of party,” you exclaimed with a grin.

“yeah, knock yourself out, babe, but not too much. i’ll be watching,” she replied, making a gesture from her eyes to you.

after a while, the atmosphere grew lively. the alcohol coursed through your veins, and you felt like nothing else mattered—except your lovely, buff girlfriend, of course. you started rambling on about all sorts of things like family, books, music, and eventually… abby.

once you reached the topic of her, she became more smiley and touchy, like, ‘yeah, that’s me, the awesome girlfriend she’s drunkenly rambling about.’ but she was also paying close attention to every word, since it’s so easy for you to slip up and say something you shouldn’t—especially with how intoxicated you were.

“yeah, dude, she’s fuckin’ awesome sauce. i love everything about her, especially her muscles. oh fuck, don’t even get me started on her damn muscles. i swear every time i see them, i quite literally cream my pa—”

“okay, that’s enough out of you,” abby quickly slapped a hand over your mouth, muffling your yells.

the group burst into laughter at the sight, watching how flushed abby got once you started talking about that, and how quickly she shut you up.

manny, as drunk as ever, decided to add fuel to the fire. luckily, there was no such thing as TMI within this group. “yeah, i think we both know abs isn’t as tough as she pretends to be, right, y/n?” he slurred.

abby shot him a glare, tightening her grip over your mouth, trying to make sure you didn’t say anything else.

unfortunately for her, it didn’t work.

you bit the flesh of her palm, making her yelp and pull her hand away. giggling, you turned to manny, ready to answer. “oh my gosh, dude, when i tell you she’s the whiniest person to exist. like, i swear my girl needs a muzzle or something.” you cleared your throat, ready to do a perfect impression of abby moaning.

“oh g-god, fuck baby, you’re going so hard and fast, i’m gonna cum!” you mimicked, before bursting into a fit of giggles.

everyone was laughing at the impression, half-convinced you were telling the truth. abby, on the other hand, was red-faced, staring daggers at you.

“oh, come on abs, it was funnyyyy!” you said between giggles.

“yeah, come on, we’re going home.”

you pouted, the fun was just getting started. why did ms. grumpy pants have to ruin it?

she stood up, facing everyone. “we’re heading out. i hope all of you get home safe—besides manny.” she then turned to you and helped you stand, unsurprisingly, you couldn’t do so without swaying. “mm okay, up you go,” she said, throwing you over her shoulder.

“woaaahhh, bye everyone!” you waved upside down. they all said their goodbyes as abby carried you off.

okay, so maybe it was a bit bad, but what’s wrong with a little joke every now and then?

about 30 minutes later, you finally heard the click of the door. “baaaabe? i’m homeee!” abby called out. moments later, you burst out of your room and ran into her arms, instantly wrapping yourself around her and inhaling her scent of pine and oak. you tilted your head up and started peppering her with kisses. it was the perfect opportunity to slowly turn things up a notch.

your hands began to roam her body, trailing along her sides, her neck, and over her nipples, causing her to shiver. “so eager, princess, what’s up?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of nervousness that had you smiling to yourself.

you hummed in response, continuing to kiss her neck, grazing your hands over her waist, pulling her closer. you tasted her—sweat, a bit of alcohol, everything that made her abby.

she groaned, giving in to your touch, her hands resting at your waist. “what’s up, you need something, baby?” she whispered. she had this certain look in her eyes, like hunger and lust all at once.

“i’ve been waiting for so long, abs, c’mon,” you murmured, kissing that sweet spot on her neck that always made her breath hitch, while digging your nails into her waist.

“but you’ve been so bad, haven’t you?” abby said, slowly backing you into a wall. you pulled away from her neck to meet her gaze. you could tell she was undressing you with her eyes.

“b-but i didn’t do anything,” you whined, dragging out the last syllable.

“so, you don’t remember the bonfire? how you claimed i’m so submissive in bed?” she retorted, her fingers trailing down to your core, teasing your clit.

the slight touch had you pining for her. if you weren’t turned on before, you sure as hell were now. “ ‘m sorry abs, i was just joking.” you gave her your best doe eyes, hoping for some sympathy.

“yeah, you will be,” was the last thing she said before crashing her lips onto yours. the kiss was messy, passionate, full of lust. your teeth clashed a couple of times, and your tongues battled for dominance. your hands found their way to her braid, tugging at its base, making abby moan into your mouth. she lifted you up so your thighs wrapped around her waist and your arms around her shoulders. still kissing you, she carried you to the bedroom and set you down on the bed.

she pulled away, both of you realizing how breathless you were. she began leaving kisses down your neck, marking purple love bites along the way. abby wanted to take her time with you, make you beg, make you plead, have you whining to be fucked.

your back arched at the feeling of her lips, her warm fingers lightly massaging your clothed clit. soft moans escaped your lips as you ground your hips against her touch.

“abby…” you breathed out.

she hummed, still indulging in her slow, loving motions.

“need you s’bad.”

abby let out a light laugh at your desperation. “poor baby, if you want it so bad, you’ll have to work for it, yeah?”

you groaned in frustration. how could she do this to you? slowly, you sat up against the headboard, breaking all contact between you and her.

“if you won’t do it, then i’ll do it myself,” you grumbled.

her brow quirked up, half amused, half confused. “mm alright, baby, i’m gonna shower. don’t do anything that’ll make your punishment worse.” she leaned in, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing her clothes.

you rolled onto your side, debating if you should really go through with it. she’d been denying you all week just because of a simple joke. talk about being sensitive!

the shower had been running for some time when you finally decided—yeah, maybe you should. who was abby to deny you an orgasm? reaching over to the nightstand, you opened the last drawer where all your toys were kept. you were torn between the light pink wand vibrator and the 7-inch black strap. in the end, you went with the strap, never getting enough of how easily it filled you up.

you took the dildo off the strap harness, positioned it between your legs, and slowly pushed it in. waves of pleasure washed over you. you tried to keep your moans quiet, not wanting abby to know just how badly you were misbehaving. but a big part of you wanted to get caught, to see how mad abby would get when she found you fucking yourself with her strap.

“ohhh fuck baby, you’re fucking me so good with your strap. need you so bad, need you so fuckin’ bad abs,” you moaned, still so lost in the euphoric feeling of the strap hitting that spot inside of you.

abby heard your cries and burst through the bathroom door. “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she growled, a white towel wrapped around her hips, perfectly showing off her v-line. her hair was in a messy bun, blonde strands sticking to her face.

“such a fuckin’ brat, baby.”

#tlou smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby smut #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby tlou #lesbian #abby anderson

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anachronismstellar · 3 months ago

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SQH x YQY 👀 I wanna see your take so bad

Hmmmm Tbh what I imagine is something like-

---

They were both working quietly, the meeting long finished, the only sounds the tec tec tec of Shang Qinghua's abacus as the peak lord moved the wooden pieces up and down, pausing from time to time to take notes.

Having just finished a report, Yue Qingyuan couldn't help but turn his eyes to his shidi, noticing his focused expression as Shang Qinghua mumbled numbers upon numbers under his breath. It never failed to impress him how fast the other was able to add ridiculously high numbers, or how Shang-shidi seemed to look at one artifact and know how much it was worth.

Another thing that Yue Qingyuan could appreciate was his efficiency. No matter how much the other peak lords brushed off his forms and failed to hand them on time, Shang Qinghua seemed to know everything that had been used or collected from their missions, as if he had eyes and ears everywhere. It made Yue Qingyuan grateful for his Shidi loyalty, otherwise they would be in a huge amount of trouble.

"Whatever it is that is making Zhangmen-Shixiong stare this much instead of asking, the answer is no, we have just finished with the annual budget, we can't change it," Shang Qinghua said without taking his eyes from the paper in front of him, making Yue Qingyuan chuckle.

"I was just admiring Shang-shidi's skill. You have very nimble fingers," he complimented as he put his own brush down. A small pause would do them good, they had been working for hours now. He was about to stand up to start the tea when Shang Qinghua snorted, a "You should see what else they could," low enough for Yue Qingyuan to realize he wasn't supposed to hear that, but loud enough for him to not have misheard.

The following pause was loud by itself, like the quiet before the thunder.

"I should go," Shang-shidi started to gather all the paper he had just written down, ruining many reports with smeared ink, color crawing up his neck until his whole face was beet red.

"Shang-"

"I just remembered I had a meeting with uh Shen- With Liu-shidi! Yes! And it wouldn't be good to leave him waiting so-"

While Shang Qinghua rushed to grab everything, Yue Qingyuan got closer, gently taking the papers from his hands, holding back his amusement. It wouldn't be kind to laugh at his shidi, even though his flustering was a bit funny.

Yue Qingyuan had a sense of humor, his job just made it hard to demonstrate it.

"Shang-shidi is fine, just got me off guard, that's all. I didn't know shidi had such... Inclinations."

"I mean, with all due respect Zhangmen-Shixiong, you're very handsome man, and you were kinda staring at me like that, then you made that comment, it's hard to not think you were, y'know, making a move, but I'll shut up now, we can pretend this never happened, and-"

Yue Qingyuan's felt his own face getting warmer. It had been a while since someone had been so honest with him, it felt refreshing.

He thought of judging eyes over a painted fan, his heart skipping a beat as he swallowed dry.

"What if I don't wanna pretend?" He heard himself say, and then it was his turn to blush as Shang Qinghua eyebrows rose all the way up to his hairline, warm brown eyes blown wide with surprise.

"Uh- I-"

"I apologize, Shang-shidi, this one didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he whispered as he went to take a step back. They're both stressed and it was getting late, maybe they should wrap it up for the day-

Bitten nails softly scrapped his cheek as the scent of ink filled his senses. He turned his face towards Shang Qinghua, surprised by warm lips against his as a strong hand pulled him closer to an embrace. For many seconds, it had been a chaste press of mouths until he dared to bite down Shang Qinghua's lower lip, chasing the taste of jasmine tea they had been drinking earlier, the heat crawling down from his face all the way to his chest. Shang Qinghua's warmth an addicting feeling as the An Ding Peak lord worked on his robes, opening them with an impressive speed.

And then, hours later, with both of them panting, sweat cooling down their skin, Yue Qingyuan laughed as he kissed Shang-shidi's hand.

"Nimble fingers indeed."

#scum villian self saving system #shang qinghua #yue qingyuan #SQH gotta catch them all #SQH gets freaky with all the peak lords #IT'S HIS WRITER RIGHTS #shit I've spent all my brain cells with warplane name #aaaaaa #SQH x YQY #someone pls tell me their shipping name #husdhfisdf #and as u can see idk how to end things #or to write less than 1k words apparently #notsofrozt #ask #I hope you liked bro :D

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shaisuki · 9 months ago

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Hi there, Shai!!

This idea had been eating my brain for a long time soo Here we goWhat are your thoughts about jjk men who would collar (and maybe even chain) their wife up after they tried to escape / were disobeying?

I'm so sorry for wasting your time over this

I LOVE your work!

Keep it up!!

Byeeee (^-^)/

-Anon

❝𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗢𝗡'𝗧 𝗗𝗢 𝗜𝗧, 𝗜 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗞 𝗡𝗢𝗧. ❞

featuring gojo satoru, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, geto suguru

content warnings yandere themes, nonconsensual themes, chains and collars, minor pet play, ankle cuffs, electrocution, degradation, dark content, gaslighting, manipulation.

synopsis yandere jjk men who would use a chain/collar on their darling

GOJO is the least fond of it. finding the contraptions unpleasant to the eyes and it doesn't suit you. you were the esteemed wife of him and you would be treated as royalty like him. princess treatment and all but he could make exceptions when you're particularly disobedient.

a day is enough of you wearing that collar. he knows how humiliated you feel in that contraption and he did feel bad a little when he sees the tears in your eyes. clawing at the leather in such panicked state that you're already begging for him. saying you'll be good and you will never do it again and satoru believes you...

“you wouldn't do it again, my sweet wife?” he coos. cold slender fingers are wrapped around your neck. his nimble fingers unfastening the cold buckle pressing in your skin. blinking the tears away and sniffling, you nod. too eager and distressed that you were willing to do anything just to get the collar removed.

from how gojo sees it and how you were dead scared earlier. he knows you will be good and learned your lesson. it pains him that you can't even speak while you claw the collar in your neck pulling it that it left claw marks in your skin. droplets of blood making its way outside of your skin and he don't want that again to happen.

satoru froze for a second when you come latching at him after the collar was removed. he expected you to come scratching at him. screaming obscenities from how vile he was instead your soft body is molded against his lean one. “i'll be good.” you repeatedly whisper and your dear husband softens at what you have said. “i know you will.” he replies. hugging you back with such tenderness and no matter how bad he felt. it honestly feels rewarding to see you this clingy to him.

the collar wasn't that bad after all.

NANAMI is not the one you could drive with a reason. deeming that is was unsafe for you to go outside and so when the first idea came running in your mind. a second he was fast to chain you up. nothing to the extreme but ankle cuffs that send jolts of electricity the moment you step outside.

he doesn't like the cuffs in your ankles but he isn't that willing to let you go easily. escaping him means disobeying and who would want that for their spouse to do it. you're not the only who's suffering from it, he also does but tells himself that it would be the good for you and him.

nanami pulls the knot in his tie. effectively loosing the fabric and making him breathe in relief. he's finally home and he can't wait just to be with you. when he's about to turn in the living room. he hears it. the soft thump of a hard object repeatedly being smacked against a pillow and then his heart breaks at the sight.

you were frustratedly tugging at the cuffs wrapped around your ankles. silently screaming and in the verge of tears when it won't just break. punching the throw pillows in the couch as your way to vent the anger, of being chained, of not being free.

noticing nanami's presence you immediately wiped the tears pooling in your eyes and avoiding his gaze. hugging yourself and pretends nothing happened.

sighing, nanami kneels in front of you. gently putting your feet in his lap and unlocking the device that made your life miserable than it is. “better now?” he asks and you nod, not bothering to wipe the tear that trickled down your cheek. “it's for the better.” he murmurs and you remained silent. your feet still on his laps while he rubs the sore spots on where the cuffs where wrapped around you. it's a routine for him. take care of his darling wife. pamper them after leaving them for a long time and please them.

it's a small price to pay when you've given him your dues.

TOJI humiliates you like he needs the air. the chains dangling as he pulled it attached to where your collar is buckled. forcing you to look at him with a furious look in your eyes. cute. as you should be akin to a mutt that no amount of yapping could remove the cuteness. whetting the rage growing aside from desire.

“you're a bitch and you know what happen to bitches. they get punished, you ungrateful bitch.” toji scowled. the sharp lines of his body are defined than it was. eyes glimmering with anger. pulling the chains until your face is in his large hand. gripping your soft jaw so tight they might crush under his raw strength.

he got no qualms about treating you like a pet. you earned it. if you weren't such a bitch you wouldn't be collared and pulled like a toy you are. there's no explanations of it and it's the only known way of the sorcerer killer to discipline someone like you. hope you will be learning your lesson after he's done with you or you're back to the leash if you misbehave again.

GETO finds it highly degrading. it's not pleasing for his eyes to see his darling all chained up or somehow collared. punishments are served by isolating you to others or simply reprimanding you. knowing how affected you are by it and you seem behaved this days. he keeps you grounded and the mere thought of escaping are shut. you didn't even plan it.

he's a man of control and is confident in his skills that he won't let you out of his grasps and when you really wanted to be punished bad. expect he had the stuff, tucked away in a hidden corner that you won't even think he possessed. imagine you really messed up bad and you're wrists are chaffed from the materials rubbing in your skin.

the thoughts of escaping/disobeying is something you shouldn't even think of. you won't like the results.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #yandere themes #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x chubby reader #tw collar #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro

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sissylittlefeather · 7 months ago

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I'm sorry this took me a million years to write @sloppiest-of-jos! Anyway, I hope it lives up to what you were wanting!

Searching for You

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, and touch of angst

Word count: ~2.5k

"Elvis, you have a WIFE and a CHILD. Tell me again how you think this could possibly work out?!" Elvis sits in a chair, watching you pace around the room from behind his silver sunglasses.

"Honey, I've told you and told you. Those are my problems, not yours. I love you. I want you." He stands up and walks over to you, taking your hand gently and rubbing small circles on the back of it with his thumb. You look up at him and almost melt. Then, you yank your hand away and walk across the room.

"No! This has gone on for way too long." Memories of how you met on the set of the Singer special in '68 come screaming back to you. You think about him noticing you, a humble back up dancer for the bordello scene. He had walked straight to you and asked your name, not even bothering to pretend like he didn't like you. You'd seen him with the other girls and couldn't believe he was actually talking to you. But something about you caught his attention and he wasn't letting you get away. He invited you up to his dressing room after filming was finished and it didn't take long at all for you to end up naked on the couch, squirming as he brought you pleasure you had only ever dreamed about.

That was two years ago.

No matter how hard the two of you tried, you couldn't stay away from each other. The space between you was electric and you made ways to be together as often as possible, despite his marital status and your guilt. You fell hard and fast for him and he insisted he felt the same way, but he never entertained the possibility of ending his marriage.

On this particular occasion, you pace the floor half-dressed insisting this will be the last time. You're leaving California, removing yourself from the equation, and he is not pleased. Once you pull on the rest of your clothes, you point your shoe at him and yell.

"I'm done, Elvis. I'm done with being your back up girl to keep you company when your wife is gone. It hurts too much."

"Honey, it's not like that! You're the one I want! If anything, she's the back up girl."

"Then why won't you leave her?"

"I-I I can't."

"Yeah." You stuff your shoes on your feet and head for the door. "Goodbye, Elvis."

This isn't the first time you've had this argument, by far, but what Elvis doesn't know is that this time you're really leaving. You pack up all your things with tears streaming down your cheeks and head for home. The drive is long, but you've hit the end of your capacity for loving Elvis like this. You wonder how long it'll take him to figure out you're gone. Will he even care?

******

Elvis gives you two weeks to get over this most recent fight, sure that all he has to do is call you when Priscilla goes out of town. But when he does, your phone's been cut off. He hangs up and looks at the receiver in confusion. Surely you didn't actually leave.

He gets in his car and drives to your apartment. Maybe you've just changed your number and he needs to appeal to you in person. But when he knocks on your door, a man he doesn't recognize answers. He gets over his initial wave of jealousy and asks about you.

"Uh, I'm looking for y/n?"

"No one here by that name. Wait are you-?"

"Thanks." Elvis turns and walks quickly back to his car before the guy can ask him for anything.

When he gets back to his house, he calls all of his Memphis mafia into the living room and gives them an assignment. They need to find you and he wants it done yesterday. The guys all look at each other in mild panic and then head out to see what they can do while Elvis sits on the couch smoking a cigarillo trying to process his shock. You're really gone. Where on earth did you go?

******

After a week of Elvis wracking his brain and the guys bribing neighbors and friends, Sonny finally has a breakthrough.

"I was able to get ahold of her best friend at work."

"Yeah, and?"

"She went home to Kentucky."

"Home to Kentucky. Where in Kentucky?"

"She didn't know, but she said she knew it wasn't far from Nashville." Elvis rolls his eyes.

"What the hell does that even mean?! There are a lot of places in Kentucky that aren't far from Nashville. How does she define far?" Sonny looks at the ground and shakes his head.

"I don't know, boss. That's all she knew."

"Goddamnit." Elvis kicks the nearest table and Sonny looks at him hard.

"Might be time to give up on this one." Elvis meets his eyes with his eyebrows raised and then shakes his head.

"No. She's... no." He turns and heads for his bedroom. When he comes back with a suitcase, Sonny tries to stop him.

"Where you goin'?"

"Well, I guess I'm going somewhere in Kentucky that's not far from Nashville."

"You're really gonna go after her then?"

"Yes." Elvis gets in his car and starts on the road East towards Kentucky and you.

******

When Elvis finally makes it to Kentucky, he drives from small town to small town looking for you. He has a picture of you that he took one night that he shows to people. He has lots of pictures of you, but this is the only one appropriate for public consumption. He thanks God that he thought to take one with your clothes on one time. Honestly, it's his favorite photo of you because it's so naturally beautiful, your smile gentle and your hair a little messy from lovemaking.

The more he looks for you, the more it becomes apparent how much he loves you. He's been saying it for a while, but the emptiness he experiences at not knowing how to find you makes him know exactly how true it is. He loves you so much that he's driving around Kentucky just to find you again. How did he think he could give you up?

He's starting to lose hope when he comes across a preacher in a small town called Franklin. Exhausted and hopeless, he shows him the picture of you.

"That's y/n!"

"Yes!" Elvis looks up, shocked. "Do you know her?"

"Of course I do. I baptized her, didn't I?" Elvis laughs and hugs the man.

"Is she here? Where can I find her?"

"I haven't seen her in a long time, but if she's in town, she'll be at her parents' house." He gives Elvis the address just as it begins to rain. For the first time in weeks, Elvis is filled with hope and he decides he'll do anything to get you back.

He pulls up in front of the address that the preacher gave him and his heart beats wildly. He's so close to being with you again. The steady rain soaks him to the bone and he knocks on your front door and waits for someone to open it.

You see him through the windows and panic. How the hell did he find you here?! You know you won't be able to resist him if he talks to you, so you run outside and jump in your car, backing out of the driveway quickly.

But he sees you and tries to run to the car.

"Honey, wait! I just wanna talk to ya!" You focus on the road ahead and step on the gas to get away. Elvis runs back to his car and jumps into the driver's seat, starting the engine and throwing it in drive. He tries to catch up to you, but you're driving like a crazy person. The rain is still coming down pretty hard and he starts to worry about you driving like this. As you head out of town, your car spins off the road into a ditch and he realizes he was right to be concerned. Thankfully, because of the spinning, you don't hit the ditch too hard. He parks and jumps out of the car to run to you. You manage to get the door open and stumble out.

That's when you feel strong arms around you. The familiarity of them makes you cry and you shake with sobs as he holds you. He stands there in the soft rain, stroking your hair and whispering to you.

"You're okay, honey. I've got you. You're okay." After several minutes of this, you pull away from him and yell.

"What are you doing here Elvis?!"

"I needed to see you."

"Why?!" He pushes a piece of rain-soaked hair behind your ear.

"Because I love you, baby." You look up at him, your eyes wide as the rain continues to fall on you both.

"No! I'm not falling into this with you again!"

"Honey, I drove across the country to find you. Is that not enough to prove that I'm serious?!"

"Where's your wife, Elvis?" He groans and pulls his wedding ring off of his finger.

"I don't care." He turns and throws the ring into the patch of trees and you gasp.

"Elvis, that was worth a lot of money!"

"Maybe, but I don't want it anymore. I don't want her anymore. I want you, ya stubborn brat."

"Why?" He rolls his eyes. His patience is wearing thin as the two of you stand in the cold rain together.

"Because I'm so in love with you I can't even think straight when you're not around."

"I don't believe you."

"Y/n! Do you know how many small towns I've been to in Kentucky looking for you?! I love you so much I can't even imagine my life without you." You contemplate what he's saying. This is a long road to travel for casual sex. Maybe he does love you as much as he says he does, but there's still too many complications.

"How, Elvis-?"

"I'm leaving Priscilla." Your heart stops. Is he serious? "I can't live another minute without you. You're all I think about from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to sleep. Honey, I will do anything to prove to you that I want you and no one else."

You look up at him, your heart so full of love for him that you feel like it might burst.

"You'd really do that? Leave your wife and the mother of your child. For me?"

"Yes. I should never have married her in the first place."

"Elvis..."

"All my life I've been searching for you. I just didn't know it. I should've waited. But I'm here now and I'm telling you. I love you more than life itself. Let me love you, honey."

And then you utter two syllables that will change your life forever.

"Okay." In the blink of an eye, he wraps himself around you, his mouth pressed to yours in a passionate kiss. He grabs the back of your thighs and lifts you so that your legs are around his waist, his lips never leaving yours. The rain has softened, so he carries you to the hood of his car and sets your bottom down. You've never kissed anyone with such fervor before. It's like you're trying to melt into one another with the way you press yourselves together. You arch your back as he rolls his hips forward into you, his erection pushing against you through his pants. He runs his hands up your thighs and pulls your panties down under your mini skirt. His thumb runs up your slit to the bundle of nerves at the top and he begins to rub circles there. You drop your head backwards and moan loudly. Without another thought, you unzip his pants and pull his cock out, stroking it slowly with your hand. He groans and kisses down your neck, while you pull him to you and run the tip of his dick up and down your entrance. He mutters against your lips.

"You're such a tease, honey."

"Yeah, but you love me."

"God, I really do. So fucking much." He thrusts his hips forward and pushes into you, almost filling you in one motion. You cry out with pleasure when he does and lean back against the car. He pulls out and thrusts forward again, grunting. This time his hips meet yours as his entire cock is inside you. He makes a sound that's somewhere between a whimper and a moan and begins to slide in and out of you, pounding you to the steady rhythm of the rain.

The sensation of him slamming against you is enough to push you over the edge and you tumble headfirst into an intense orgasm, moaning and writhing and pulsing around him.

"Fuck, honey, I love you." You pull him down on top of you and whisper in his ear.

"I love you too." It's the first time you've ever said it back to him. He whimpers and kisses down your neck to your cleavage, never changing his steady pace of pumping into you. You can tell by the way his thrusting becomes more erratic that he's getting close too.

Finally, he slams into you hard and shudders against you, filling you with ropes of cum. It's also the first time he's ever cum inside you: another indicator that he's serious about you.

The rain has slowed to a drizzle as he collapses on top of you, spent and breathing heavily. He slides out of you and stands up, pulling you into a sitting position on the hood of his car.

"Come home with me, honey." He kisses your cheek affectionately and then backs up to look you in the eye, his blues ones seeing straight through to your soul. You couldn't tell him no even if you wanted to.

"I gave up my apartment."

"I want you to live with me." You raise your eyebrows.

"You still have a wife."

"I won't for long. I'll buy us a house. Just please say you'll come home with me." You nod and lean your forehead against his chest.

"I'm yours, Elvis." He tips your chin up to look at him.

"And I'm yours." He kisses your lips tenderly. "Now come on. Let's get out of the rain."

He drives you back to your parents' house, where you both change into dry clothes and settle on the couch together. Surprisingly, he's perfectly comfortable there with your mom and dad. He stays for a few days with you, letting you give him the grand tour of your hometown. Eventually, you head back to California together. Your car is totaled, so he promises to buy you a new one once you get home.

He wastes no time in leaving Priscilla and starting divorce proceedings. In the meantime, he buys the two of you a cozy little love nest and you're perfectly happy there with him.

The Kentucky rain was a baptism of sorts and you both came out of it changed for the better. It's not always smooth sailing, he is Elvis Presley after all, but you're happy more often than not. You never run away again, though you know he'd chase you if you did. And every time it rains, he holds you close and you remember the cold Kentucky rain.

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you

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nadvs · 7 months ago

Note

why do i see cheerleader reader having daddy issues, so when she tells rafe she’s pregnant, she’s so emotional and scared about how he’s gonna react and if he’s gonna break up with her or something

it tracks 🥺 she always expects to be disappointed by men and it’s not just because every guy she’s dated before rafe has treated her badly…

based on this fic

when she moves in with rafe after she finishes her post-grad internship, she’s still on the pill. one day, she’s complaining about the side effects of it as she’s making herself lunch and her boyfriend says, “then stop taking it.”

she looks at him from across the kitchen.

“we’d have to use protection,” she says. “every time.”

“sure. but is it so bad if…?”

she’s shocked. they’ve been together for about two years now and they’ve never talked about kids past a mention of it’d be nice to be parents some day.

“if i get pregnant?” she says.

“yeah.”

“isn’t that fast?”

“not for me. is it fast for you?”

she shrugs. maybe it’s not so crazy. they have their future set. a child would be a nice addition. they haven’t talked about marriage, but she’s in no rush. they don’t have to be married to have a baby.

“if we both want it… i guess if it happens, it happens,” she mumbles. “but our lives would change really, really drastically.”

“i know,” rafe says comfortingly.

she continues to make herself food and he stares at her, imagining her with a baby bump and that bump turning into a little human who’s a mix of him and the person he loves most.

he knows she’d be a great mom. and he’s always wanted to be a dad. he’s always wanted to undo how his own father had raised him, making his only son have to struggle for his fleeting approval.

three months later, she misses her period. she doesn’t tell rafe. she picks up a pregnancy test. she doesn’t tell him that, either. when she sees the double lines on the test, she’s standing in the middle of their bathroom, her body trembling.

and she hates that she doesn’t feel excited. she’s scared. she thought she wanted this. she hoped for a positive. but this isn’t the feeling she thought she’d have.

she goes through the motions of ordering a custom newborn basketball jersey with cameron stitched on the back, having dreamed of telling rafe that they’re expecting that way.

a couple of days later, it comes in the mail. she has actually sort of liked keeping the secret while she waited because it meant she could pretend it wasn’t real yet.

she does what she thinks she should do. she puts the tiny shirt in a bag, sets up her phone to record, and calls him over to tell him something came for him. this is what a woman who’s excited to tell him would do, she tells herself.

at first, when rafe opens the bag, he doesn’t say anything. his jaw goes slack, he blinks a bunch of times, and then he pulls her in for a tight hug.

she’s already shaking, tears in her eyes, when she hears him sniffle. he pulls back. his hands are firm on her cheeks, gazing at her through glossy blue eyes.

“you’re happy?” she whispers.

“yeah,” he responds, saying it like it’s obvious. “we wanted this, right?”

rafe stills for a moment when he sees just how anguished she looks. she doesn’t seem happy at all.

“right?” he repeats.

“yeah,” she says, nodding and looking down. “i don’t know. it’s weird. maybe it’s the hormones already.”

“how long have you known? do you feel okay?”

“just a couple days,” she says. “i’m tired. a little nauseous. but he hasn’t made me throw up yet.”

“he?”

she meets her boyfriend’s eyes.

“i know it’s too soon to tell,” she says, “but i really hope it’s a boy. you’ll feel more connected to a boy.”

he can tell by the way she’s stuttering and crying that something’s wrong.

“baby,” he mumbles. “i’ll feel connected no matter what. it’s my kid.”

she shudders, nodding through her sobs.

“what’s up?” rafe says softly. “do you… are you regretting it?”

“no,” she replies, “but are you sure you want this?”

“yes. we talked about it,” he reminds her. “it’s not like this was an accident.”

“yeah,” she mumbles, looking down at her lap again.

rafe stares at her, slightly shaking his head in disbelief. she’s acting like this was unexpected. like she’s wishing they never started trying.

“what is it?” he says. “if you don’t want this, then just tell me.”

she curls up, slouching as she dips her head into her hands, the tears coming harder now.

“if it gets hard…” she whimpers, her voice muffled. “you can’t leave me to do it on my own. you can’t.”

he’s floored. they haven’t mentioned anything about the possibility of things not working out with them in ages. and back when they did, it was almost always rafe needing reassurance that she wasn’t planning on leaving him.

“i would never do that,” he says. “look at me.” his fingers wrap around her wrists, pulling her hands down from her face.

“where’s this coming from?” rafe mumbles. “did i do something?”

he thinks back to the past few days, trying to remember if he said something even in passing that would make her worry about him abandoning his girl and their baby.

the look in his eyes almost looks like betrayal. like he can’t believe she’s saying this.

she swallows hard, coming to terms with what’s been swimming in her head for days now. her father was absent. the only example she had of a dad was one who never really acted like he wanted a kid at all.

“i don’t know what it looks like,” she begins, “when a man actually wants to be a dad. maybe you’re excited now, but what if when it gets hard? when he’s crying or sick or keeping us awake?”

“we’ll deal with it,” he says. he pushes past his own ache to try to understand her.

his cups her hands in his, searching her face with concerned eyes. he remembers her opening up to him long ago about how she always wondered if her dad would have loved her more if she was a son instead of a daughter.

“when he or she is giving us hell, we’ll deal with it,” he says. “i love them already. there’s nothing that’ll change that.”

he puts a hand on her stomach, rubbing gently. she finally cracks a smile, softly laughing. his chest loses its tightness when he sees her look happy for the first time since he got home.

“i was reading that it’s the size of a pomegranate seed right now,” she says.

he smiles in awe, kissing her wet cheek.

“what’s next?” he asks. “what appointments do we make? what should you be eating?”

she laughs again. rafe has always been so intense, so focused on the next step.

“let me catch my breath first,” she teases. she looks over, just now remembering she filmed all this.

“my bad, baby,” he laughs. “breathe. this’ll be good, alright?”

“alright,” she says. and she believes it.

#ask #swteblurb

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chiwhorei · 1 year ago

Text

「 ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ 」

╰┈➤ Request: Can I get a Drabble of daddy miggy showing me how a real man treats a girl during and after the date?

╰┈➤ Tags: Short-form, drabble, NSFW & dark, DDLG, daddy kink, incest, degradation, Daddy!Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

* ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ From Dymmie: If it makes you feel better about your own morality, just pretend I don’t mean incest. Peace and love. ◝꒰ ´ ˘ `♡ ꒱

“Need a hand, mija?” But Miguel turns you around by your hips before you can answer. His touch feels like pin-pricks, the soft, barely-there feeling of Daddy’s fingers as he helps zip your dress.

He found you with the bathroom door open and your back turned to the mirror, reaching behind you to unsuccessfully catch the zipper a few times before stepping in. Daddy always waits an extra beat to watch you, taking the breath before you notice him to admire his precious little girl.

“Thank you daddy,” and just those words are enough to live on, as long as you’re the one saying them.

Daddy tucks in the tag at your nape and runs his hands down the silky pink fabric. You look beautiful, mature beyond your years in such a revealing little dress.

“What’s the special occasion, Princess? My birthday isn’t for another few months.” Your cheeks simmer at his words, and Miguel watches your nose scrunch in the mirror.

Your chin raises to meet Daddy’s eyeline, and he notes the nervous expression you’ve got on. You play with your fingers, barely whispering a response.

“Well, erm, a boy from one of my classes, h- he asked me to go to a party with him tonight.”

Miguel’s shoulders tighten, his light, placating touch turning into a deep hold on your upper arms. You regret telling Daddy about your date as soon as the words leave your mouth, you regret agreeing to the date in the first place.

“My little girl,” Miguel tuts, “growing up to be such a little slut.” Daddy’s words almost knock your footing out from under you.

“Daddy I—” you want to tell him you’ll cancel, that you’re sorry, that you’re still his good little girl.

All apologies die behind your teeth when Daddy’s hand wraps around your neck. His grip is purposeful, pointer finger tracing your pulse but not testing it. Your breath catches like he’s dangling you in the air.

“You still want to be Daddy’s good girl, don’t you?” And you can’t say yes fast enough, because of course you do.

“Always Daddy. Always wanna be your good girl.” You feel your brain melting, dripping out of your ears.

Miguel’s other hand pulls at the hem of your dress, fabric bunching over the plush of your thighs. The grip on your neck tightens, thumb nudging your chin up. Your eyes meet your Daddy’s, his stare is dumbing, glare pulled taught into slits while doing a once over.

“Aye Mija, I know. You’ll let that boy down easy, yeah? Tell him your Daddy needs you home tonight.” You nod furiously, tears welling in your waterline.

He’s pleased with your response, Daddy knows you’d never want to disappoint him. You’re just too sweet for your own good sometimes.

“If you do what Daddy says,” the tips of Miguel’s fingers meet the lace of your panties, you arch into the touch, “I’ll take you out to a real fancy dinner.”

Your hips grind down against his palm, chasing the friction of his touch. You always get so wet in Daddy’s hold, there’s no way you’d be able to meet up with your date with tear-stained cheeks and slick panties.

You’ve already forgotten about your date, you’ll never send that text to politely cancel. But that doesn’t matter, Daddy blocked the poor fuckers number hours ago.

* 𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭ *

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel smut #Miguel O’Hara x reader smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #tw.incest #good guy Miggy

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pandapetals · 22 days ago

Note

Hii, sorry, I don’t know if you take requests but I really like your writing, I was wondering if you could write a fem mute!reader x Logan Howlett. It’s okay if not xx 💗

Hi! Thank you for the request. I hope this did your request justice. I mixed in some sign language because I thought it would be cute for Logan to learn it.

logan howlett x fem!mute reader - drabble, fluff, logan learns sign language, no y/n used, no reader description

Logan had never been a patient man. Patience wasn’t in his DNA—not in the way his fists always itched to settle problems or how his temper burned too hot, too fast. But somehow, when it came to you, patience came easier. Almost natural. He didn’t know how or why and he didn’t question it.

You didn’t speak, at least not with words. Your hands, your eyes, even the way you carried yourself—that was how you communicated. You didn’t need a voice to fill a room with your presence. It had taken Logan a while to figure that out and learn how to listen to what you did rather than say.

Eventually, he had a soft spot for you. One that he guarded just as fiercely as you guarded yourself.

He leaned back against the couch, his arm sprawled along the top as the movie played on the screen in front of you. The glow from the TV flickered across your face, highlighting how your lips twitched into a subtle smile at the cheesy one-liners. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make Logan’s chest feel warm in a way he didn’t often let himself feel. He didn’t even like this movie—it was some sappy rom-com the kids kept recommending—but you seemed to enjoy it, and that made it bearable.

You sat cross-legged beside him, hugging a pillow to your chest, completely focused on the screen. Every so often, your expression would shift—your brows would furrow when the characters argued, or your nose would scrunch when something particularly ridiculous happened. You didn’t need words to show exactly what you thought of the movie. Hell, you were more expressive than half the people he’d ever met.

“You really like this stuff, huh?” Logan asked, his gruff voice breaking the quiet. He didn’t expect an answer—you never gave him one—but he asked anyway maybe because he liked how your head would tilt slightly or how your lips would quirk in response.

This time, you turned to him and smiled softly, raising your hands to sign, It’s fun.

Logan smirked, his lips twitching upward as he pretended to focus back on the movie. But his heart kicked up a beat, the way it always did when you signed something to him. There was something about the fluidity of your movements, the way your hands told stories, that never failed to catch his attention.

You didn’t know it, but for months now, Logan had been trying to learn. Slowly, in secret, whenever he had the time—or the patience—to sit still long enough for one of the kids to teach him. If he was being honest, he was terrible at it. His hands were too big, his fingers too clumsy, and the subtleties of signing didn’t come naturally to him. But he stuck with it because it was for you.

And tonight, after months of work, he was finally ready to show you.

The movie shifted to a quieter scene, and Logan waited for the perfect moment. His palms felt weirdly clammy—he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nervous about something so small. But this mattered. You mattered.

When the timing felt right, he cleared his throat. You looked up at him, your brow furrowing slightly with curiosity.

Logan turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours, and slowly—awkwardly—he raised his hands and signed, You are important to me.

The movements weren’t perfect. His fingers stumbled over the shapes, and his pace was slower than it should’ve been. But it was clear enough, and the second you understood, your eyes widened. Your mouth fell open slightly, as if you wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words—or, well, didn’t need them.

You just stared at him, blinking rapidly like you weren’t sure you’d seen what you thought you had. Then, slowly, your expression softened. A smile broke across your face, wide and bright, and for the first time since he’d met you, Logan thought he saw tears welling in your eyes.

He shifted uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck. “What?” he grunted, his voice a little gruffer than usual. “Did I mess it up?”

You shook your head quickly, your smile only growing wider. Without hesitation, you reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently before signing back, You learned that… for me?

Logan shrugged like it was no big deal, but his ears burned hot. “Yeah, well. Figured I’d make things a little easier. You’re not so easy to read all the time, y’know.”

That earned him a laugh—silent, but unmistakably a laugh. How your shoulders shook and your eyes crinkled at the corners sending a strange, unfamiliar warmth flooding through him. And damn it, if he didn’t feel ridiculously proud of himself in that moment.

Thank you, you signed, your movements slow and deliberate so he could follow. It means a lot.

Logan glanced away, rubbing at the back of his neck again. “Yeah, well,” he muttered, “don’t go gettin’ all sentimental on me, darlin’.”

When he looked back at you, the way you were beaming at him made his chest ache in the best possible way. He grunted and shook his head, reaching for the remote. “C’mon, let’s finish this dumb movie. I didn’t sit through an hour of this just to miss the end.”

You nodded, smiling as you settled back into your seat, hugging your pillow tighter. Logan hit play, and the movie resumed, but he barely noticed the screen. His attention kept drifting back to you—your quiet happiness, the way your shoulders stayed relaxed, the soft glow of the TV reflecting in your eyes.

For once, Logan thought, patience wasn’t so bad.

#logan howlett #wolverine #x men logan #x men wolverine #fluff #james logan howlett #logan howlett x you #logan x reader #hugh jackman #marvel #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett x reader #logan wolverine #logan james howlett #the wolverine

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boredmadamoiselle · 2 years ago

Text

You know where to find me

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Synopsis: Charles is out to dinner, enjoying the evening with friends until he gets a naughty text from you. What is he going to do... to you?

Warnings: Smut. Masturbation. Teasing. Charles a little possessive maybe? English isn't my first language, so it might contain some mistakes. I tried my best but if you want to correct or help me, you are welcome.

Author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is always appreciated and is important for me. If you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to write them and I will take into consideration.

As Charles was out to dinner with friends and you had stayed home, you had decided to clean your apartment and ended up tidying up your closet as well. While improvising a fashion show and pretending to be a model in your bedroom, you tried on some clothes you thought you had lost or that no longer fit you.

You were rearranging the lingerie drawer when you found an old red bodysuit you had bought some time ago and for some strange reason never used. It was time to fix it, you thought.

The red color reminded you of Ferrari and of Charles. He loved seeing you in red, that’s why you wore that color often – both on and off the track –, it was your way to support him. So you were sure Charles would love that bodysuit on you, especially the part where he would take it from you. Just the thought turned you on immediately.

You looked at your phone. It was nearly midnight; it was time for Charles to come home and take care of you. It had been, in fact, several hours since Charles had left the house, he had probably had enough fun, now it was your turn.

After putting the bodysuit on and taking a quick look in the mirror to fix your hair and put on some makeup, you got on the bed and took a few pictures with your phone.

Satisfied with the result you sent a message and some pictures to your boyfriend and waited for his response.

Charles was listening to his friends chatting when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He couldn’t help but smile seeing that it was you. He opened the notification without hesitation.

Hey, amour. How is it going? Hope you’re having fun.

Look what I found.

The text was accompanied by some pictures.

“Fuck”, Charles whispered as he opened the first image before remembering where he was and with whom.

He looked up from his phone and looked around. Luckily his friends were still engaged in their previous conversation, so no one was paying attention to him.

He went back to looking at the picture you had sent him. His mouth watered at the sight of you on your bed in front of the mirror with almost nothing on but a red lace bodysuit that left little room for the imagination. But the things he imagined doing to you were many.

He texted you back.

Y/n, please... Don’t.

You were quick to respond.

What? I thought you would like it

You know you were playing with fire and that later you would suffer the consequences, but you couldn’t help but teasing him now. In the end you knew it would be worth it.

That’s the problem, Y/n. I loved it… But I’d rather you without

As he imagined slowly taking off the bodysuit from you and your naked body under his, he received another message from you.

Well… you know where to find me😏

If it was up to him, he would have already got in the car and would be on his way to you as fast as he could.

Baby, I can’t leave yet

Please

You loved to see him beg even though you knew you would regret it later when the roles would be reversed. Since he was going to make you pay, you wanted to enjoy yourself while you could.

I get it, Cha. But I don’t know how long I’ll be able to resist. Maybe I should take the matter into my own hands while I wait for you?

His erection, already hard, was pushing against his pants.

Y/n, don’t you dare…

Charles was still writing when you texted him back.

I'll stop writing now. My fingers have better things to do. Have fun, see u later 😉

Your message left Charles speechless and unable to answer. That was pure torture, he thought. How could he enjoy the rest of the evening if all he could think about was you and what you were doing right now? Did you stand by your words and were you taking care of yourself?, Charles thought. The image of you touching yourself and moaning kept playing in his mind, driving him crazy and also a little jealous. He wanted to be the one making you feel good and hear you screaming his name over and over again.

The more he thought about it, the more impatient he became and wanted to get out of there. The air inside was getting hotter. He loved his friends and spending time with them, but at that moment he could only think of you. He desperately wanted you. It was amazing the effect you had on him, even from a distance.

He looked at his watch impatiently, it was past midnight. They had been there for several hours; his friends wouldn't mind if he left. At most he would have invented some excuse, for example that he was tired. He looked at his watch again, it was time to go home for him… to get back to you.

After your last message, you had waited for Charles a little. You hoped your words had had some effect on him but seeing he didn’t arrive, you got bored in the end. You were still turned on by the conversation you had had with Charles. You closed your eyes and started to think about your boyfriend and the things he would have done to you if he had been there.

Your hands slowly moved towards your pussy. As you rubbed your fingers over your panties, pressing them over the fabric, you could feel the cotton soaking through, making you shiver.

You moaned, your bodysuit soon pushed to the side and one finger inside of you, getting all wet by your arousal. You whimpered at the contact, imagining it was Charles doing that to you.

As you picked up the pace and pushed another finger between your wet folds, you were starting to feel your own arousal become nigh unbearable. You tilted your head back as your hips thrust to meet your fingers.

You didn't hear the front door close or the footsteps approaching the bedroom.

You could feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. You were almost there when someone grabbed your hands, pinning them over your head and stopping you from reaching your orgasm.

You instantly widened your eyes.

“Charles! You scared me to death!”, you screamed.

Charles smirked and looked at you with desire as he was above you, holding one knee between your legs and pressing on your pussy.

“Yeah, baby? This is what happens when you get caught doing something you shouldn’t.”

You weren’t really scared; his words were actually turning you on even more.

“This is what happens when your boyfriend doesn’t show up on time. You are a racing driver and are so slow?”, you challenged him.

Charles would never admit it but he loved it when you acted like a brat, it excited him.

He remained silent as his eyes wandered over your body and gently stroked you with one hand. He licked his lips and his cock hardened at the sight of your wet and naked cunt. He was dying to be inside you but he knew he needed to be patient, he wouldn't let you win so easily.

“I was about to come, Charles”, you sighed, pretending to be frustrated.

Charles knew it well. He had already been there for several minutes enjoying the show when he politely interrupted you. At another time he would have gladly watched you pleasure yourself and allowed you to finish the work but not that day. You would only come when he let you.

His fingers caressed your slit, teasing it and collecting your wetness while you winced and moaned as you were still sensitive. He gently flicked your clit, sending shocks down your spine. His fingers dug into you, without much resistance. You began to slowly move your hips but Charles had other plans for you and pulled his fingers out, putting them in his mouth to taste you.

“Only good girls are allowed to come. Have you been a good girl, chérie?”, he whispered looking at you and wearing a cocky smile, his face a few meters from yours before to kiss you roughly.

You could feel all his desperation and desire in that kiss. He wanted you too.

He walked away from your lips. “I don’t think so. You are just a little slut who couldn’t even wait for his boyfriend to come home.”

Before you could reply, he started to move down, kissing down your neck and chest, biting a little, sucking a little more, making you gasp as he got to one of your breasts.

He was touching and kissing you everywhere except where you needed him the most and that was driving you crazy. You knew it was your time to beg.

“Please, Charles… I can be good for you, let me show you”, you said in a trembling voice.

He looked up at you. “I don’t know if you deserve it. You should rather be punished, don’t you think?”

At those words you knew you had a long night ahead. You nodded at him as you couldn’t wait to be punished.

That night, in fact, you had to wait before coming as Charles teased you a lot but several hours and orgasms later it was worth it… three times.

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc smut #f1 one shot #f1 x you #f1 smut

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meownotgood · 2 years ago

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cpr. / dan heng x gn!reader, fluff, soft kisses, dan heng teaches you how to do "cpr" (poorly)

I want to teach you the basics of first aid. Come to my room as soon as possible.

That's it.

There's no, Would you like to come to my room? or, Learning first aid would be helpful for you, what do you think? Dan Heng is just as to-the-point as the first time you met him, and even though you try to pretend like it gets on your nerves, huffing your complaints to March and texting back an annoyed K, you still find yourself shuffling over to his quiet room on the Astral Express the moment your phone pinged you with the notification.

You're silently thinking to yourself as you make your way there, rounding the hallway as slow as you can to give yourself a few extra seconds, or possibly to make Dan Heng wait for longer — or maybe it's both.

Yet despite how much you ponder, even though you've known him for long enough to start understanding him, you can't decide if he's so direct because he's just that way with everyone, or if it's because he knows you'll always listen.

Upon entering, his cabin looks the same as it always does: books strewn about and left open on important pages, glowing circuitry lining every wall, his bed unmade, pillow askew, blanket balled up in the corner. When you step in and slide the door closed behind you, he doesn't bother to look up from where he's sat cross-legged and hunched over a data screen, he simply pats the floor next to him with his palm and cocks his head to signal you to come sit down.

"You almost got yourself killed on our trip to Belobog. Multiple times." Dan Heng explains, tone stern and resolute, not exactly rude, just matter-of-fact. Your knees knock his own once you've settled next to him. Your heart stutters a bit at the proximity, but he doesn't seem to mind. While he speaks, his eyes never stop scanning the screen.

"We'll reach the Luofu soon, and I won't be coming with you. My biggest concern is you not knowing what to do in an emergency." He turns towards you finally, sharp and serious gaze meeting yours. "I'm already not excited about this, but I'd feel better if you let me run you through a few exercises."

"I'll be alright. Don't worry about me. I know enough. I think."

Dan Heng stares back with narrowed eyes and with his arms crossed over his chest, unconvinced.

In a moment, he pushes himself to his feet, walking over to the desk and rooting around its contents, all while completely disregarding your last statement: "I'll lend you a first aid kit. If we start now, I should have enough time to teach you everything you need to know, mostly everything. I'm serious about this, so please try and pay attention. For your own sake."

Right. That's fine. You can handle it. You're a pretty fast learner, you think. And thankfully, mostly everything consists of things you already sort of knew or techniques that are relatively simple to comprehend.

Dan Heng walks you through the steps to bandage a wound — He holds your arm gently as he's showing you the proper way to wrap it, pulling on the bandage tightly and then softly, idly rubbing circles onto your skin with his thumb.

How to treat a fractured bone, what to do if someone is choking — Dan Heng wraps his arms around you and shows you where to place your hands, resting yours on top of his in the center of your stomach. His chest presses flat against your back, his hair tickles the side of your face and you almost miss when he says into your ear, "Shove forcibly right here, and keep going until… Are you listening?"

"Yes," You answer. "Er, sort of." You rectify.

Dan Heng expels a heavy sigh. Right then, you half expect him to give up and kick you out, but instead he holds your shoulder and shifts back, he mutters a barely audible C'mere and guides you to rest your head squarely in his lap, leaving you laying down and peering up at him.

He admits honestly, "I'm worried about you. If something were to happen to you there, I mean I trust everyone to look after you, but…"

It isn't like him to trail off. "But what?"

"But you need to know how to take care of yourself."

Shifting his hand underneath you, he props your head up further with his arm, the metal of his bracer firm on the back of your head. "For now, I'll teach you how to perform CPR. Pay attention to what I do. After this, we'll be done."

The room's silence seems to stretch on. The endless hum from the systems and analyzers echoes in your ears, your heart pounds in them even louder. Dan Heng brushes his nimble fingers over your chest, right between your ribs, as his eyes scan your face they start to take on a certain sort of softness.

He composes himself with a sharp breath out, a deep breath in. And then, he's leaning close, too close, gripping your chin deft between his thumb and forefinger, tilting it upwards. You watch his eyes flutter shut and you follow his lead.

Your heart continues to thump so hard you're certain he can feel it: once, twice. Warm lips brush your own, clearly hesitant, and it's nothing like the straightforwardness you've always been used to getting out of him. No, Dan Heng seems nervous this time, and as he connects with you in an open-mouthed kiss, his hands getting sweaty, warmth pooling in his chest, he can't help his mind from becoming a total mess.

He isn't thinking all of the sudden, isn't considering any of the consequences, like he's always tried to do. Your lips are on his, he didn't lock the door; he nearly forgets to breathe a steady puff of air into your mouth once the tingling feeling and the heat rising to his cheeks commands all of his attention.

Almost as quickly as he leaned in, he's forcing himself to tear away from you, his eyes opening slowly, his expression completely unreadable.

"It's self-explanatory." He reasons, sure of himself, but you swear his voice sounds quieter than it did before. Any louder and he'd trip over his own words, "You got it, or do you need another demonstration?"

"Show me one more time. Just in case."

If anything were to happen to you, if you died and he wasn't there…

And once more, Dan Heng is closing the distance, this time briefly reaching up to brush a few strands of stray hair away from his eyes before tilting his head and pulling you closer.

He's gained a bit more confidence, and he kisses you hard, stops for a moment, caresses your jaw with his fingers and meshes his lips with yours to kiss you again — and you can't help yourself from reaching up, settling your arms around his shoulders to tug him in as close as you can get him. And he lets you.

You'll be fine, won't you? He isn't sure, and he hates that he isn't sure.

He'll have to ask you to promise him.

You freeze, and he pulls away, only by a couple of centimeters, enough to breathe but to still feel his breath fan over your skin when he exhales. He's blushing fully now, you sigh his name against his mouth and it's the sweetest sound he's ever heard; he shivers all the way from his neck to the base of his spine.

His head goes fuzzy, his heart throbs and twists like a burning star — God, he doesn't know what to say. His thoughts were moving a mile a minute, but the more he stares down at you, the longer you hold his gaze and let the seconds revolve around and around, he starts to forget it all.

Dan Heng swallows the thickness forming in his throat, and he's about to force himself to say something when you suddenly start speaking instead.

"You're doing it wrong, you know."

"Huh?"

Your head tilts. "Come on, there's no way you're that horrible, right? If you wanted to kiss me before I went, you could have just said so."

And Dan Heng, ever-so direct, always so composed, feels his lips start to quiver and somehow can't manage a response to that.

#dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #dan heng #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #dan heng fluff

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hawnks · 1 year ago

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Alpha!Nanami/Omega!reader

Word count: ~2,800

warnings: a/b/o typical sexism, abuse of authority (from side character), mention of leg injury

……………………………………………………….

He brings the storm with him.

You learn him in whispers, along with a bevy of myth and rumor. He drifted here from the East. His clothing has been mended at least a dozen times, but his shoes are sturdy, expertly crafted. He makes no noise when he walks — hardly any noise at all. Rōnin, not samurai. And you can’t trust a man with no honor.

He killed his old master, I heard.

No, he was exiled.

Maybe he killed his master because he was exiled.

“He’ll be gone tomorrow once the rain lets up,” the innkeeper says, cutting off all further speculation. “Now, mind your work, not the guests.”

Beside you, someone grouses, “He chose a funny season to wander, if he’s afraid of the weather.”

…

The rain does not let up.

It puts everyone in a sour mood. The streets turn viscous and tacky, the air brutally cool. You draw the short straw, sent to fetch the days meat in the early morning, a long trek to the fishmonger that leaves you drenched down to your underwear.

It takes twice as long as usual — you lose your sandal a few times in the muck — and when you arrive the stand is vacant. The old man had come down with pneumonia.

Frustrated, you take the long way home. They can wait for the bad news, and you’re so soaked a few extra minutes won’t make any difference. You catch the eye of a few of the daimyō’s men, leering at you from beneath awnings, snickering as you walk by.

“Wanna hear a joke about wet omegas?” one of them calls to you.

You grit your teeth and keep walking.

You deliver the news about the fish to the innkeeper at the door to her room, so you can dart out again before she has a chance to say anything. God forbid she sends you out on another errand.

Soaking, furious, you change into your uniform, and begin your shift at the tavern.

The work is tedious, but decently lucrative. You like to talk to travelers, learn what’s happening beyond the boundaries of your town. It’s hard to put into words what you get out of this, hoarding information like you’re starved for it. Maybe the sheer notion that there is someplace else. That this town and its people are not the only things in the world.

The comfort of knowing away is still possible.

You expect to ask the rōnin the same, starry eyed questions, regardless of how the other server is avoiding him. It might even be enough to salvage this shitty morning.

But you don’t get a chance to ask him where he’s from, what he’s seen. You open your mouth to say something, and choke on air thick with the scent of wisteria.

He meets your gaze.

He won’t look away.

Your wet hair drips on his table.

You can’t feel your fingertips.

Shoving yourself away from the table so hard it rattles against the floor, you excuse yourself in a mumbled tumult. You recruit the other server to take over your tables for the rest of the morning. You must look as awful as you feel, because she doesn’t even question it as you retreat back to your room, throw yourself under the quilt. Close your eyes and pray for your heart to settle.

The one thing the gossip didn’t prepare you for — an alpha.

…

Another day of storms. Another morning you draw the short straw.

Another day you limp home through the mud, empty handed.

The soldiers don’t leer today. Instead, the daimyō is waiting for you. It feels like he’s always waiting for you, that he could swoop in any moment, as quick and ruthless as a hawk.

He’s said he could follow your scent straight to you, no matter where you’re hiding. Sometimes you believe it.

He’s leaning against a wall under an awning, but you know the casual stance is deceptive. He can be fast when he wants to be.

He calls your name, an inferred order to come.

You pretend you didn’t hear, keep walking.

He’s standing straight now arms at his side. Ready. Your insides feel leaden. It takes all your willpower to keep moving forward. To disregard an alpha is one, painful thing. To disregard the daimyō is simple insanity.

Water blurs your vision. You can’t tell from the corner of your eye what expression he’s making. Sometimes he finds your insolence humorous.

Sometimes not.

Just a dozen feet further and you’ll be at the bend in the road.

“You should greet me,” he says. Quiet, but you’re so hyper-vigilant, there’s no way you could miss it.

“Good morning, My Lord,” you whisper to your feet.

He doesn’t step out into the rain, but his voice follows you around the corner. Teasing, condescending. “That’s a good omega.”

He could kill you for your bad manners. A servant, ignoring their lord. No one would question it, no one would dispute it.

But then — he would be killing the only omega in the whole town.

As much as he resents your disobedience, he would resent the loss of you even more. An alpha must have an omega, he told you. That is his right.

Chin tucked and scurrying, you don’t realize you’re on a collision course until you’ve already run into the man. The impact sends you tumbling to the ground.

Through the buffer of the downpour, it takes you a minute to recognize him. His scent.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says. “I apologize.”

He bends to offer you a hand up. You just stare at his outstretched palm. Silent. Reeling.

You wait for him to give an order. Demand you take his hand, or that you come to stand on your feeble legs all on your own. It’s simply an alphas nature to wield their power like a cudgel, to bend everything and everyone to their will.

And now you have two of them to deal with.

Another moment of stillness. Your breath steams. Your pulse drowns out all other sounds.

He kneels.

Like this, on the same level, you can see the color of his eyes. So perfectly brown they’re almost black.

“Are you alright?” he says.

His voice is staid and calm. Not demanding. Not cruel. It — confuses you. You don’t understand what he wants from you.

You rise to your knees, shoving him with all your strength. He doesn’t budge. He remains solid and upright beneath your hands. You can feel the muscle, the innate strength. He’s warm, beneath the wet clothes. So incredibly warm.

You wonder if he could soothe your chill. You wonder if the touch of his bare skin would burn.

With a gasp, you tear away, appalled and mystified by your own reaction.

He stays kneeling as you rise and step away. He stays as you rush home, the scent of wisteria heavy in your lungs.

…

The innkeeper is displeased with your performance, of late. She gives you a stern warning that you shouldn’t let your “licentious nature” interfere with work.

“I don’t know why I agreed to take an omega on,” she sighs. “Not like you’ll be around for much longer, anyway.”

You wince. “Am I fired?”

The old woman laughs. “No, no. Not yet, anyway.” She waves at you, a full body gesture. A reference to the omega in you. “You’ll be wed to His Lordship soon, anyway. You won’t have to worry about the toil of work anymore.”

You excuse yourself shortly after.

…

The days are a monotony. Even the fear is so commonplace you lose track of it. The daimyō grows impatient with you. He calls to you from the shelter of the awning, each time a little bolder, a little less demure about his intentions.

“You know, I have a bad habit of breaking my things when I get bored of them,” he tells you. “I wonder what other tricks you have to keep me entertained.”

You hang your clothes to dry every evening, and the drip becomes a steady cadence, like the ticking of a clock.

This is your life.

The rain.

…

The decree is issued that afternoon. Marriage.

You’re to report to the royal estate before sundown, along with everything you own. You will not be coming back.

You pack your bag; you take the road out of town. With the city at your back, you’ll have to pass through the outskirt woods. Then across the river, a dangerous gambit when the water is this high, but that just means you won’t be followed.

You can’t imagine the consequences if they catch you.

The path grows looser the further you go, the mud deep, silt as slick as ice. Arduous and exhausting. And dangerous, too.

You don’t realize your footing is off until it’s too late. You slip, land badly. You cry out before you can stop yourself.

You struggle to your knees, get one of your legs beneath you. A shock of pain has you tumbling down again.

You can’t stand. You can’t run.

Just moments after you fall, a shadow overtakes you. And a man, looming, familiar, crouches before you.

“I heard your voice,” he says. “Can you walk?”

You shake your head, timid, overwhelmed.

“Pardon me,” he says, before hefting you up into his arms.

The ease he does it with is startling. An alpha’s superior strength.

He brings you to a small hunting cabin. Clearly abandoned, but decent enough. It’s dry, and a small fire is going in the hearth.

There’s no furniture except for a rudimentary pallet, which he sets you down on.

“May I?” he asks, hands hovering above your stockinged leg.

He takes your silence as answer enough, unrolling the material gradually, trying not to disturb your injury. He inspects it briefly, pressing carefully. You wince, he stops.

He reaches for his bag, retrieving a small tin. “Your ankle is sprained,” he tells you. “You should return to town in the morning.”

“I need to leave,” you return absently. “I have to get past the bridge.”

He frowns.

“The bridge has collapsed. The river is impassable.” He had tried to leave that morning, only to face the same dilemma. He considers you leg. “Besides, you won’t make it very far.”

The reality of your situation dawns on you, a slow tide of dread.

You missed your chance. You’ve lost your only opportunity at freedom.

You yank out of his grasp, dragging yourself across the floor, to the corner on the far side of the cabin.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you—“

“No. No.” You gnash your teeth at him, feeling wild with fear, unable to see past the dark curtain of it. “I have to go. I can’t be trapped in here with you.”

He raises a hand, a placating gesture, but all you see is motion, canting toward you. An alpha. A threat.

You grab whatever is closest. You throw it at him.

The stick doesn’t even hit him, but that doesn’t stop you. You throw everything within reach.

He just waits for you to give up, but soon enough he realizes how stubborn you can be.

“Enough,” he says. His voice fills the shack, not loud, but indomitable. The undeniable command of an alpha. “I’m not going to hurt you. I would appreciate if you would offer me the same courtesy.”

You drop the stone you were going to hurl at him, suddenly incapable of aggression. You feel — groggy, but less terrified now. Very nearly calm.

His pheromones, you realize.

The notion that he’s using them on you should incense you, but you can’t muster it. You close your eyes, exhausted.

Eventually, after long minutes of tepid silence, he murmurs, “I was here first, you are aware of that, right?” His tone is almost — sullen.

And for some reason, that very human show of petulance is enough to thaw you.

You laugh.

You can’t stop. You laugh so hard it’s hardly laughter anymore. It’s so intense it makes your ribs hurt, brings tears to your eyes.

It feels like the first time you’ve been able to think clearly in weeks.

When you finally calm to a few soft hiccups, you lay down and throw your arms out. Passive.

“Alright, swordsman,” you say, “Fix me.”

He’s slow to approach you, cautious of another rock coming at him. But you remain still.

His touch is gentle, so soft it’s like he’s barely handling you at all. He retrieves the tin of salve you kicked out of his hand, and begins to apply it. It’s cool, slightly astringent. Beneath that, the scent of wisteria.

His fingers are just as warm as the rest of him.

It’s over before you can get used to the sensation of him touching you. He pulls away, returns the tin to his bag. “That will help with the swelling. You should still avoid putting weight on it until it heals.”

“Thank you,” you force yourself to say.

You think you hear him chuckle.

…

Night blooms, full and dark.

Despite your anxiousness, the waiting has grown tedious. Unbearably so.

“Is there anything in that bag to alleviate boredom?”

He glances at you for a moment. Hesitating.

Finally he reaches inside, pulls out a small binding. He passes it to you.

A book of poems. You recognize the shape of the sentences, some of the words. You wonder what use a swordsman has for literature, but the swordsman is full of surprises evidently.

Th pages are worn, the edges soft from thumbing.

“I can’t read,” you say. You look at him. Expectantly.

You hold the book out. He takes it, slowly, gingerly.

He reads.

He’s not much of a performer, although you didn’t expect him to be. It’s clear he’s not used to reading aloud, but he knows these passages well. He’s tone is even, with little inflection. The words come out perfectly paced.

They’re love poems. Not flowery or decadent, but earnest, gentle.

It seems at odds with what you know of him, what you’ve assumed from his status, both as a rōnin and an alpha. You’re not sure what to make of him anymore, how to reconcile the image you built of him in your head and everything you’ve witnessed here.

His swords are leaned against the wall beside him, sure proof of a history of violence.

The question comes, unbidden. “Have you ever killed someone?”

He pauses, glances at you. He searches your face for something, the fear that should accompany those words. But your expression is blank.

Silence, fraught with the tense memory of how you ended up here. What were you running from? Why? He must understand, to some extent. No one reaches desperation without pretext.

“Yes,” he says, simply.

“If I asked you to kill someone,” you murmur. “If I paid you…”

The implication feels enormous within the tight confines of the cabin.

“I don’t believe that’s what you want.”

“What do I want?”

“To not be put in a position where you have to make that kind of decision.”

That makes something in your chest feel tight, on the verge of snapping. Another thing you can’t wrap your head around. Another emotion you can’t name. Uncomfortable, but not frightening. Not like before.

You feel displaced, unmoored.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’m not being nice,” he says. “You need help. I’m in a position to provide it.”

And that seems wrong to you. Just because someone has the means doesn’t mean they’ll offer them, certainly not freely. Especially not when someone is a such a burden.

“I’ve never met an alpha who’s kind to an omega just for the sake of it,” you say despite his denial.

He mulls that over for a moment, head cocked as he decides how to respond.

“I didn’t know you were an omega until tonight,” he says, quietly. “I had my suspicions, but…”

“Were my bountiful charms not enough to tip you off?” You snort at his blank expression, too polite to disrespect you with an answer. “Why now?”

“Your scent. It’s…subtle. Easy to miss, especially under these circumstances.”

“What do I smell like?”

He smiles, for the first time since you met him. It softens his severe features, makes him look younger. Less world-weary. “You smell like rain.”

He continues reading as the sky continues to churn, until you can hardly keep your eyes open, just barely holding on to the soft thread of words.

“Sleep,” he says gently. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Despite yourself, you believe him.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #HAPPY FOUR AM #here’s this <3 #I knowwwww there’s like a thousand typos in here I just know it #I wanted to finish this tonight I felt compelled to #also I’m so sorry if u actually know stuff about history I am just making stuff up as I go <3 #JSJSJDJDJDJD #anyway……#one of the stranger aus I’ve written #cw: a/b/o #tw: a/b/o

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