#so by the time the second class came in I was ready to pass out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

batsovergotham · 24 days ago

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PROLOGUE: THE BITE

"You've got the costume. You've got the power. You're Spider-Woman. Act like it." 🕷🕸️

Main!Mark Grayson x Spider-Woman! Reader

warnings: SMUT, violence, passing out, blood,

w/c: 8.9k

a/n: okay so i was planning to post the kryptonian fic first, but after looking over it again… yeah. it needs a little love before it’s ready. it’s super long, super heavy, and honestly gonna be a bit draining to get through right away. i do still plan to post it, i just wanna make sure i have the energy to really do it justice. so in the meantime, i’m gonna give you the mark x spiderwoman!reader fic instead :) it’s way more chill, still emotional and fun, and honestly feels like a good breather between heavier projects. the kryptonian fic is still coming just after i rest my brain a little <3 thank you for being so patient with me!!

You feel it before your eyes even open, the sweet brush of a breath at your neck, the warmth of another body drawn close against yours like he never wanted to let go, and the creak of Mark’s mattress underneath the both of you as he moves slightly. Morning light streams through the curtains in languid golden slats, cutting across the dorm room and putting everything in a calm of gentle, tranquil hue. You’re still buried in slumber, locked between a dream and the weight of a boy's arm slung around your waist.

You don’t need to turn around to know who it is. The big chest against your back, the familiar warmth, the way his fingers quiver slightly as if even in repose they’re attempting to cling onto something precious, him. Mark Grayson.

You let your eyes flicker open and then quickly squint at the ceiling. Your throat’s dry, your hair's certainly a mess, and you’re still wearing his shirt, oversized and soft, smelling faintly like his detergent plus something else that you’re too weary to define but know is just him.

You stayed over. You really stayed over. You hadn’t intended to, precisely. But one thing turned into another, cheesy sci-fi marathons, sarcastic commentary, a slow drift into each other’s arms, and suddenly you were dozing off against his shoulder while William grabbed a hoodie and vanished off to Rick’s dorm for the night with an exaggerated wink and an even worse “you kids behave.”

You'd rolled your eyes. Mark had just blushed.

Now his arm’s still over you like he never quite received the memo that the movie finished and morning came.

He breathes in deep, leisurely, and you feel his chest rise behind you.

“Morning,” he mumbles, voice low and tired.

You can’t help it, you smile. “You always open with poetry?”

“Only for special occasions,” he says into your hair. He shifts a bit closer. “Like waking up next to you.”

You slide onto your back, turning to face him, propped up on your elbow. His eyes are still half-lidded, but they’re already fixed on you, azure and velvety and full of something that makes your breath catch in your throat. He looks like he doesn’t want to be anywhere else. Like you’re it.

Your voice comes out softer than you meant. “Thought you had class this morning?”

He moans, full-bodied and theatrical, and collapses backward like a man shot. “Ughhh. Don’t remind me.”

“Responsibility calls, Grayson.”

“So does your mouth,” he mumbles under his breath, smirking.

You freeze.

Then snort, because what the hell. “Excuse me?!”

“I meant-!” He’s laughing now, genuine and brilliant, and it’s so disarming that your heart flutters with it. “I meant I wanted to kiss you again and now I’ve ruined it forever.”

You press his shoulder, but your palm lingers. “Yeah, well, that’s what you get for flirting before caffeine.”

He observes you for a second. That languid smile turns into something else, quieter, more earnest.

Then, without a word, he leans forward and kisses you.

No jokes, no buildup this time, just lips on lips, unhurried and sure, his fingertips stroking your jaw. You kiss him back, smooth and steady, like there’s no urgency. Like this morning might stretch out forever if you let it.

But then his hand moves, down your side, landing at your waist, and something changes in the way he kisses you. His mouth widens gently, deepening it, and your breath catches. His other hand tangles in your hair, not tugging, but there, holding you to him like he’s worried you’ll drift off again.

Your body responds before your intellect does. You press closer, one leg slipping over his, fingers digging into his shirt like you need anything to grasp onto. His grasp on your waist tightens just little in reaction.

He kisses you like he’s wanted to all night. Maybe longer.

You break the kiss to breathe, forehead crushed to his, and try to make a joke, but all that comes out is, “God.”

Mark smiles, eyes flitting across your face. “Yeah. That’s about where I’m at too.”

You chuckle, breathless and trembling, and kiss him again.

And again.

And again, until you’re half on top of him and the sheets are a jumble and none of you remember what time it is or where you’re meant to be.

His fingers glide under the hem of the shirt you stole, brushing bare skin. Your breath catches, part nervousness, half something else you don’t have the words for yet. Your heart is hammering in your chest, loud and dramatic THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

Mark pauses. Looks at you.

You nod, just once.

And he kisses you like he’s been holding back.

He draws you in with both hands, lips ravenous now, his tongue stroking yours, and it’s messier, hotter, his body pushed tight to yours. You feel the weight of him between your legs, the hardness he’s not bothering to disguise anymore. Your body responds instinctively, hips pressing against him, lips opening wider, hands going beneath his shirt now, across his back, his sides.

You don’t know what you’re doing. Not really. But you know you want this. Want him. Every inch of him, every gasp and tremble, every secret thought behind those watchful brown eyes.

You don’t know that he’s a superhero. That he’s lifted buildings, fought monsters, saved lives while keeping all of this secret from you. You just know that he’s Mark, and right now, he’s kissing you like the world outside the dorm doesn’t exist.

And you’re kissing him back like you’ve never believed in anything more.

You melt under him, unable to resist that low groan he lets out when your tongue meets his. It’s a soft morning kiss, warm and thick with the drowsy heat of sleep, but there’s something more under it. A current humming beneath his skin.

“God, you’re cute when you wake up,” he whispers, voice rough like gravel, and you roll your eyes but you blush. Of course you do. You always do.

“I look like Seance Dog after that dumpster fight,” you mumble, pulling the sheet up to your nose. But his hand’s already slipping lower, fingers gliding over your stomach, your pajama pants thin and already doing nothing to hide how warm you are underneath.

His thumb strokes your skin just under the waistband. Testing. Teasing. You twitch, not out of resistance, but anticipation.

“Shut up,” he grins. “You look like you. That’s the best part.”

And then his hand moves lower.

You gasp, breath hitching as his fingers slip past the fabric, finding heat, slickness, the subtle throb of your body waking up faster than your mind can process. He watches your face as he touches you, eyes narrowing just slightly, lips parted. He’s focused. Not cocky. Not groping or rushing. No, Mark is intent. Studying you like he’s discovering a part of you for the first time. Like each inch of you is a secret he wants to learn by touch.

“You’re already this wet?” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper, more wonder than tease. “Fuck.”

Your cheeks burn. Your thighs press tighter around his hand but you don’t stop him. You couldn’t if you tried. He slides two fingers along your folds, slow and deliberate, making you bite your lip to stop from moaning out loud.

“Mark…” you whisper. Not a protest. Not a plea. Just his name, breathy and unsure, because it’s all new. This is new. Not the kissing. Not the cuddling. Not the way he looks at you like you’re made of starlight and lightning. But this, his fingers in your pants, his mouth against your cheek as he murmurs, “It’s okay. I got you.”

Your hips twitch, grinding down just slightly against his hand without thinking. He catches that. Smiles. And moves his fingers lower, circling your clit with the softest, slowest motion that makes your toes curl under the sheets.

He leans closer. You can feel the heat of his breath against your ear. “Can I make you feel good?” he asks it like a promise, not a question. “Can I keep going?”

Your breath is shaky, heart slamming against your ribs, and your body answers before your brain can. Your hips roll forward, pressing harder into his hand, chasing that friction, that pleasure just out of reach.

He kisses your neck, and then he moves again, fingers slick with you now, pushing inside, slow, gentle, coaxing your body open as he watches your expression shift. Surprise, heat, need. Your hand flies to his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle as his thumb brushes your clit again and again with each thrust of his fingers.

“You feel so fucking good,” he whispers, low and rough and raw.

You moan. This time you can’t help it.

And still, you don’t know.

You don’t know that Mark Grayson isn’t just the too-cute, weirdly poetic guy who treats you like you matter in ways no one ever has. You don’t know he’s stronger than steel, faster than light. That the fingers inside you have punched holes through spaceships.

All you know is this, his mouth, his breath, his touch, and the sound of your own voice breaking around his name as his fingers fuck you deeper, curling just right, finding that spot that makes you tremble all the way down to your toes.

You’re trying to be cool about it. You really are.

But your head’s thrown back against the pillow, your eyes fluttering half-shut, and your whole body’s betraying you, hips twitching, stomach flexing, legs trembling under the slow, obscene rhythm of Mark’s fingers still buried inside you. Every time he curls them just right, that electric jolt lights up your spine and short-circuits every dumb, stammering comeback you were trying to form. You're stifling moans with your knuckles, eyes wide, staring up at the ceiling like it might explain what the hell is happening to your life.

Because holy shit. This is happening.

Mark Grayson, dorky, sweet, absurdly hot Mark who somehow fell into your orbit and never left, he’s got his fingers inside you and he’s not acting like it’s a game. He’s looking at you like it matters. Like he’s memorizing every twitch, every breath, every broken sound that slips from your lips. His brow furrows when you gasp, and he shifts his hand just slightly, hunting for that same reaction again. He finds it.

“Yeah,” he whispers, half-smiling. “Right there. That’s it.”

You nod furiously, too breathless to form actual words, one hand tangled in the sheets, the other gripping his bicep like it’s the only thing tethering you to Earth. He’s strong, stronger than he should be. His muscles don’t bulge obnoxiously, but you can feel the power under your palm, the way his arm doesn’t give an inch even when you clutch at him in desperation.

“God, Mark-” you choke out, biting your lip hard as he thrusts his fingers deeper again. “I-shit…I haven’t-”

He pauses, lips brushing your temple, voice a low, reverent hush. “Hey. You okay?”

Your laugh breaks halfway into a moan, shaky and high-pitched. “Yeah. Just. You’re really good at this, and I’ve… not exactly had a lot of practice. You know. In real life. Not with anybody but you.”

Mark’s eyebrows lift. His fingers don’t stop moving, but he slows them, lets you breathe a second. “You mean like, what, just crushes? Or…”

You snort. “I mean I’ve kissed my own hand more times than actual people. And one of those kisses ended with braces involved and both of us bleeding.”

That makes him grin. Like, wide. Like you just told him the greatest thing he’s ever heard. “Jesus. You’re adorable.”

“I’m mortified.”

“You’re hot as hell.” His voice dips again, right against your neck. “And you’re clenching around my fingers, so either you’re secretly a world-class actor or you’re really into this.”

“I’m trying to play it cool,” you whisper, which would be a lot more convincing if your thighs weren’t shaking.

He chuckles softly, kissing your neck. “You’re doing so bad at that.”

You squirm, trying to glare at him, but he hooks his fingers just so and your head jerks back with a whimper you couldn’t stop if you wanted to. He moans into your skin, the sound of him loving every reaction you give him, it’s shameless, filthy, real.

“Mark,” you breathe, voice catching. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna…I’m gonna-”

“I want you to,” he whispers, his fingers moving faster now, rhythm steady, confident. “You should see how good you look right now. You’re so fucking perfect like this.”

Your whole body coils tight, tension winding through your core, and suddenly you’re right there, teetering, begging for that final push. You grip his arm like a lifeline, gasping out ragged little half-sobs as he brings you closer.

Your orgasm hits like a jolt, like falling out of your body. Your back arches, thighs squeezing his hand, breath punched from your lungs as you cry out, no filter, no shame, no idea what sound just ripped out of you because everything else has gone static-white and trembling and so goddamn wet. You ride it out on instinct, hips jerking, eyes squeezed shut, Mark holding you through it, murmuring your name, pressing kisses to your shoulder, your cheek, your temple.

When you finally collapse back to the bed, your whole body boneless and blinking through the afterglow, he slowly eases his hand out of your pants, fingers slick and glistening. He stares at them a second, then looks at you.

“Can I be honest?” he says, licking his bottom lip.

You nod, still dazed. “Please don’t say something dumb. I’m too weak to handle it.”

“I’ve imagined that a lot,” he says, voice low and warm and serious. “But I never imagined it would feel this good to actually touch you again like this. Like... fuck. That was incredible.”

You want to say something witty. You want to make a joke, be cool, shrug it off like you’re not melting into his sheets. But all you manage is a breathy, “Y-you too,” and a dumb, blissed-out smile that makes him lean down and kiss it off your lips.

What you don’t know, what still hasn’t hit you, is how much he’s holding back. How careful he’s being. How strong he actually is. You don’t know that the same hands that just made you cum so hard you forgot your own name are the same hands of Invincible.

And he won’t tell you. Not yet.

Not while you’re still glowing in the aftermath, tangled in his arms, whispering against his jawline that he’s not allowed to disappear in the morning.

You're lying there with your cheek pressed against Mark's chest, still trying to come back down to Earth, and not metaphorically. Your heart’s drumming like you sprinted up ten flights of stairs, your legs feel like spaghetti, and your thighs still twitch every now and then with aftershocks. You’ve never felt that before, not from another person. Not even close.

And now?

Now there’s a low, needy tension humming in the air. But this time, it’s him.

You feel it under your fingertips, the way Mark’s chest rises just a little too fast, the tight coil in his abs, the slight tremor in the hand resting near your waist. You glance up at him, your breath still catching in your throat a little, and his eyes are already on you. Big, blue, vulnerable. His lashes are unfairly long for someone so stupidly good-looking. He blinks once, then offers you a crooked smile that’s trying way too hard to be casual.

“You okay?” you whisper, letting your hand drift across his chest, drawing nonsense lines with your fingers.

He swallows. Hard.

“I’m great,” he says, and he is, technically, but his voice is rough and low and not nearly as confident as it usually is. He’s squirming just the tiniest bit under your touch, his cock pressing up through the thin fabric of his boxers, already hard and straining.

It’s your turn to smirk.

“Yeah?” you ask, your hand sliding lower, fingertips teasing the waistband of his boxers now. “You look kinda like you’re suffering.”

That makes him exhale through his nose, almost a laugh. Almost. But he bites his lip and nods, his voice dipping into something softer, more needy.

“I mean… yeah,” he admits. “A little. But like… the good kind of suffering?”

You raise a brow. “So if I just… did nothing right now…”

He groans, half a whimper, half a plea. “That would be evil.”

You laugh quietly. Your hand dips beneath the waistband.

His breath catches instantly. You feel it, heat, stiffness, that pulse of tension that tells you just how badly he’s been holding back. You take your time, drawing his cock out slowly, letting your fingers curl around the thick, velvety length. He’s hot to the touch. Hard, but twitching, his hips subtly shifting up toward your hand without him even realizing he’s doing it.

You glance up at him again and his head’s tipped back against the pillow, his lips parted, eyes fluttering. He looks wrecked already and you’ve barely touched him.

“Jesus, Mark,” you whisper, marveling at how sensitive he is. “You’re, uh… really worked up, huh?”

He lets out a breathless laugh that breaks halfway into a moan when you stroke him once, slow and steady.

“You just made me watch you lose your mind from my fingers,” he groans. “Of course I’m worked up. You were…” He grits his teeth, his voice trailing into a hiss as you squeeze around the base and drag your hand up again. “You were fucking perfect.”

You bite your lip. That rush of heat shoots right back through you but this time, it’s paired with this weird little swell of power in your chest. He’s always been the calm one. The capable one. The guy who looks like he was born with good lighting. And now?

Now he’s melting under your touch. Whining quietly as you stroke him again, a little faster now, thumb teasing along the sensitive tip just to watch him flinch and gasp.

“F-fuck,” he pants, one hand grabbing the sheets like he’s trying not to fall apart. “You’re… really good at this.”

You snort. “I watched a lot of porn and imagined doing this never in real life. So, thanks for that.”

He laughs, even as his breath hitches again, hips twitching into your hand. “Well, your imagination deserves an award.”

You keep stroking him, slow at first, building rhythm, curling your fingers just enough at the top to make his thighs flex. His cock pulses in your grip, pre-cum slicking the head as you twist your wrist on the upstroke, and he moans loud. He doesn’t even try to muffle it.

His other hand slips up, gently curling around your wrist, not to stop you, but just to feel you. To anchor himself. His fingers tremble.

“You’re so fucking soft,” he murmurs, eyes opening to look at you. “And your hand fuck, it feels too good. I’m not gonna last.”

That makes your stomach do a somersault.

“Oh? Gonna come for me already?”

He bites his lip hard. Nods. His voice is practically a whimper now. “Please.”

The way he says it, please, makes your legs clamp together instinctively. You pump him harder, faster now, hand slick and confident and soaked in the kind of desperation he’s wearing all over his face. His abs tighten. His moans are ragged, drawn out, high in his throat like he’s trying not to cry out your name.

You lean in, whispering hot against his ear, “Come for me, Mark.”

And he does.

His whole body locks up under you, shoulders flexing, thighs trembling, cock jerking in your fist as he spills over your fingers with a strangled, guttural fuck that makes you ache. Hot ropes of cum splatter across his abs, thick and sticky, as he pants through the aftershocks, clinging to you like he’s unraveling.

You don’t stop stroking until he whines, an actual whine, and grabs your wrist gently to stop you, his body twitching from overstimulation.

His hair’s a mess. His cheeks are flushed. His lips are red and bitten and absolutely begging to be kissed.

So you do.

And he kisses you back like you’re the last thing holding him together.

You barely pull your hand back before Mark’s grabbing at you again, shaky fingers on your waist, his breath still uneven, his chest still rising and falling like he’s just run a mile. You expect him to flop back, wrecked and dazed and maybe ready to nap like a normal person, but instead, he’s crawling on top of you like a man possessed. Eyes glassy. Lips parted. Cock still hard and twitching between you like it didn’t just unload itself across his abs.

“Wait, seriously?” you breathe, not quite laughing, but stunned, looking down where his cock presses hot and slick against your lower stomach. “Mark, I just jerked you off, aren’t you supposed to be done for the day?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters, leaning down to kiss you, slow, desperate, heat pulsing through every inch of him. “I should be. I’m trying to be.”

You blink. “Trying?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He nuzzles into your neck, lips brushing your pulse point, voice breaking into something raw. “The sounds you made. The way you looked when you came. The way you touched me. I’m still hard. I can’t stop.”

Your mouth goes dry.

And then he grinds down.

It’s clumsy at first, he’s just pressing against you, bare skin to skin, your pajama pants still clinging to your hips. But the slide of his cock along your pelvis, still slick from your hand, still pulsing with leftover heat, is enough to make you gasp. Your thighs twitch, your fingers dig into his back, and he groans right into your collarbone.

“Mark-” you whisper, not because you want him to stop, but because you don’t know what to do with all of this. No one’s ever wanted you like this. Not with that kind of hunger. Not with need written all over their face.

He doesn’t answer at first. He just keeps moving, hips rolling, cock grinding against the seam of your pants, his whole body shivering like the friction alone is dragging him closer to the edge again. His head dips low, lips pressing wetly to your throat, your jaw, your cheek.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he pants. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“You just came,” you whisper, half in awe. “You came, and you’re already-”

“Look at me,” he grits out, and you do.

His eyes are wild. Not unhinged, just lit with something sharp and aching and deep. His cock is trapped between your bodies, sliding along the damp, clinging fabric of your pants, every motion dragging the head right against your clit. You suck in a breath. It’s not even inside, and it feels too good.

“I’ve never wanted someone like this,” he breathes, hips jerking harder now. “You don’t know what you do to me. You act like everything’s normal, like you don’t see it, but you’re, fuck, you’re killing me.”

Your hips buck without thinking, grinding back up against him, and he moans, loud, open, filthy. He thrusts again, and again, pace stuttering, desperate. You feel how hard he is. How hot he is. Your body starts pulsing all over again, heat building low and slow in your stomach, every friction drag of his cock against your clothed cunt sending sparks through your spine.

Your fingers slide up into his hair, dragging through sweat-damp hair, pulling him down for another kiss that’s all teeth and breath and messy tongue. His body presses you into the mattress, thighs braced around yours, grinding harder now, faster, using your soft body to relieve the ache in him.

You whimper into his mouth. “Mark, fuck, if you keep doing that-”

“I want you to feel it,” he growls against your lips. “I wanna make you come again like this, just like this. Let me.”

You nod. Your hips move with his now, both of you locked into it, your hands on his back, pulling him into you, guiding him, feeling every twitch and throb of him through the soaked fabric between you. The way he moans, ragged and helpless, when your thigh clamps between his legs?

It sounds like he’s breaking.

He buries his face in your neck, breath catching, voice muffled but full of that same pleading edge. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good, don’t stop, don’t stop-”

Neither of you do.

He should go.

You both know it. The sunlight’s too sharp now, cutting in from the window across his back. His phone buzzed once, twice, maybe more. Somewhere in the pile of clothes on the floor, there’s a vibrating little rectangle full of frantic reminders and missed alarms. First period, second period, probably a text from Amber asking if he got the notes from Stats.

And you?

You’re still under him. Warm. Soft. Wide-eyed and flushed, hair mussed against his pillow, lips swollen from too many kisses, your pajama pants shoved halfway down your thighs like you got caught mid-strip and never finished. You’re biting your lip in that way that makes it look like you’re trying to pretend you’re not turned on out of your mind.

Mark grinds down again, slow, deliberate. His cock slides through the wet heat pressed between your thighs, and your hips jerk, a gasp bursting from your mouth like you weren’t ready for it even now. “Mark-” your voice catches, breathy and nervous and wrecked. “You’re gonna be late.”

His mouth curls against your neck. “I am late.”

He doesn’t stop moving. He can’t. The tension in his muscles is unbearable now, coiled up with that same aching energy from earlier, only worse. Raw. Insistent. He needs more. Needs you.

“You gonna stop me?” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

Your fingers flex against his back. You should. You should. That would be the reasonable thing to do. Let him go. Keep pretending this is something you can laugh off, something casual, like he didn’t just look at you like you hung the fucking moon.

But you’re not reasonable.

And your body’s already answering for you, hips bucking up again, thighs spreading wider, that greedy little pulse between your legs begging for more. For him.

Mark pulls back just enough to look at you, his hand cupping your jaw. His eyes search your face. His voice goes quiet, trembling at the edges. “I wanna be inside you.”

He says it like a confession. Like it matters.

“Yeah?” you whisper, heartbeat ricocheting through your ribs.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “I don’t wanna stop. Not now. I wanna feel all of you.”

You swallow, hard. “You know I-…”

“I know.” He kisses you, slow and aching. “I’ll go slow. I’ll take care of you. We don’t have to rush.”

You blink up at him. “You’re literally skipping class for this.”

He laughs softly, cock twitching against you, still grinding slow and messy between your folds. “I already missed class. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

Your stomach flips. Your nerves tense. But you nod.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Okay.”

Mark kisses you again, deeper this time. His hand slips down, tugging at your waistband until you lift your hips and let him peel your pajama pants off completely. You shiver when the cool air hits you, but he’s already there, sliding between your thighs, spreading you open with reverent, trembling fingers.

“God, you’re perfect,” he mutters, voice ragged.

Then he wraps his hand around his cock, lines himself up, and pauses, his eyes locked on yours.

“You good?” he asks. “You sure?”

You nod. “I want this. I want you.”

He pushes in slow.

Your breath hitches, sharp and high, as you stretch around him, inch by inch. It’s always more than you expect, thicker, deeper, intimate in a way that makes your whole body tense up with anticipation. But he moves gently, carefully, kissing your cheek, your jaw, whispering your name like a prayer with every inch he sinks into you.

“Shit,” he groans. “You feel so good. So fucking tight.”

Your nails dig into his back. You can barely speak. He bottoms out with a slow, careful thrust, hips pressing against yours, and the fullness makes your head spin.

You’ve never felt anything like it.

He holds still, letting you adjust, just breathing with you, forehead resting against yours. “Tell me when,” he murmurs.

You swallow, tremble, then whisper, “Now.”

He starts to move.

Each stroke is slow at first, rhythmic, measured, his hips rocking into you with that perfect drag that makes you gasp and writhe beneath him. The sensation is overwhelming. Pleasure rolls through you in waves, and the way he looks at you, like you’re his whole world, is almost too much to take.

Your legs wrap around his waist. He groans into your neck, fucking you deeper now, his pace picking up as your body adjusts, as your moans shift from startled to needy.

“God, you’re so warm,” he pants. “So wet, fuck gripping me so tight-”

You’re clinging to him now, your fingers locked behind his neck, pulling him closer with every thrust. You can feel him everywhere. The wet slap of skin, the creak of the mattress, the heat building low and fast in your core.

He thrusts harder, kissing you between moans, tongue sliding against yours. “You’re doing so good. Taking me so good. I’m not gonna last, I’m not gonna fucking last-”

You cry out when he hits just the right spot, your body arching into him, legs shaking.

“Mark! Mark, I’m gonna-!”

He grabs your thigh, thrusting harder now, desperate, hips snapping into you, chasing that last edge as you clamp down around him and come apart underneath him. Your orgasm slams through you like a tidal wave, your body locking up, mouth open in a silent scream.

Mark follows you seconds later, hips jerking, cock pulsing deep inside you as he spills himself with a broken, desperate moan. His whole body shudders on top of you, and for a second, neither of you can breathe.

Silence.

Then his forehead falls to your shoulder. You both laugh, breathless and wrecked.

“Class is so fucking overrated,” he mutters.

You don’t disagree.

You’re both a mess.

And not the sexy, movie-mess where your hair falls in soft waves and the sheets magically cover just enough skin to be tasteful. No, your legs are twitching, your inner thighs are slick, your hair’s plastered to your forehead, and you’re pretty sure one of the pillows exploded somewhere behind you. Your body’s buzzing, your brain’s static, and lying on top of you is Mark Grayson, shirtless, flushed, completely out of breath and looking like he just survived a natural disaster.

“Okay,” he pants, voice muffled against your collarbone, “so that might’ve been… a little excessive.”

You laugh, weak and stunned. “A little?”

He lifts his head and gives you this look, half proud, half guilty, his cheeks still bright red. “You’re not mad at me, though, right?”

“I can’t feel my legs,” you say.

“Okay, but like… in a good way?”

You don’t answer. You just grab his face and kiss him.

Because yeah, it was a lot. He didn’t just fuck you once and call it a day. He went down on you until you came so hard you forgot your name, then got on top of you like he was starving, thrust into you until you were clinging to him, came inside you, then stayed hard and kept going. And again. And again. Every time you whispered, “Okay, I’m done,” he kissed your neck and begged, “Just once more. I swear. Then I’ll stop.”

He never stopped.

“You’re a menace,” you murmur against his lips. “You don’t need to prove anything, you know. I already like you.”

Mark snorts and drops his forehead to your shoulder. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I just, every time I touch you, I want more. I think I’m weird. This feels illegal.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling like an idiot. Your body aches, sore and deliciously used, your thighs still sticky with him. “You’re not broken. You’re just obsessed.”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, lifting his head again and motioning vaguely to your naked body. “Have you seen you?”

You go to swat him, but he grabs your wrist, kisses your palm, and says, a little more serious, “It’s not just that. I’m not, God, I’m not good at this stuff. I mess up. I get in my head. But with you…”

His voice dips.

“Every time we do this, it feels real. Not just like sex. Like I’m with the person I’m supposed to be with.”

Your chest tightens. That little insecure voice in the back of your head tries to mutter something about how you’ve never done any of this before him. How he’s dated, had sex, lived, and you’re still playing catch-up. But he never makes you feel behind. He looks at you like you’re the most natural thing in the world. Like all his experience means nothing compared to this.

“You’re not what I expected,” you whisper.

Mark raises an eyebrow. “Uh… good unexpected or wow, she’s lowering her standards unexpected?”

You smack his shoulder. He grins. “I just mean,” you say, softer now, “I didn’t think anyone could make me feel like this. Like my body’s not weird. Like I’m… wanted.”

“Hey,” he says, more serious now. “Wanted is an understatement. I’m obsessed. I think about you when driving. Do you know how hard it is to stay on the roadwhen you’re picturing someone naked?”

You laugh. He kisses your cheek. Then your jaw. Then lower. Lower still.

“Mark-”

“I know, I know. But I swear,” he murmurs against your skin, “I’m not trying to wear you out.”

“You already did.”

“Cool. Then I’m just doing a victory lap.”

You groan, but when he nudges your legs apart again, fingers brushing over your overstimulated heat, you shiver. Because yeah, you’re sore. You’re exhausted. But with Mark, even after everything… you still want more.

And the look in his eyes?

He’s right there with you.

You’re still entwined in Mark’s arms when your phone begins vibrating on the nightstand.

At first, you don’t move. You’re curled into him, his chest warm against your face, his heartbeat steady and anchoring. His fingers are still sketching languid, absentminded shapes into the curve of your spine, and the weight of his arm over your back feels too lovely to give up just yet. The morning light slips through the slats in delicate stripes over his skin, and you think, maybe, if you stay motionless long enough, time will forgive you for skipping out on your obligations.

But the buzzing doesn’t stop.

Mark grumbles something incoherent, his grasp tightening like he’s already expecting you sliding away. You sigh, planting a short kiss to his jaw before stretching, awkwardly, to retrieve your phone. You anticipate it to be a text. Maybe a reminder from the University or a spam notice seeking to sell you anti-virus software.

It’s not.

It’s Uncle Ben.

Shit.

You swipe to answer and roll slightly to the side, cradling the phone between your ear and shoulder as Mark nuzzles into the crook of your neck like a drowsy cat that refuses to be leave from his favorite area.

“Hey,” you say, voice hoarse with sleep. “Sorry, I meant to call you last night. I… uh… slept at a friend’s place.”

Mark snorts at that, cocky as hell, and you instantly stab your elbow into his side. He yelps, gently, still smiling. Jerk.

“Mm-hmm.” Ben’s voice is suspicious, but he doesn’t press. “You said you’d be back by dinner, kid. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmur, bowing your head to hide Mark’s grin. “Everything’s fine. I just lost track of time. We were… studying.”

Ben doesn’t answer straight away. You envision the grimace he’s wearing, a mixture of frustration and that soft disappointment that usually makes your stomach twist a bit. “Well,” he replies finally, “if you’re gonna be out all night, the least you could do is shoot me a text so I don’t think you’ve been kidnapped.”

Guilt seeps in. You get up carefully, untangling yourself from Mark, who gives out a grunt of complaint, sinking back dramatically into the mattress. “Sorry,” you mumble, pulling a hand through your hair. “That’s on me. Won’t happen again.”

“You’re lucky I like your voice too much to be upset at you,” Ben says, softer now. “Anyway, I just wanted to check in, and remind you, you’ve got that internship thing today. At the lab?”

You blink. Hard.

And suddenly your heart drops into your gut.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, struggling upright. “That’s today?!”

Mark sits up, startled. “What’s wrong?”

You clap a palm to your forehead, terror surging up. “I’m late. I’m so late. We took an trip to the Midtown campus spider genetics lab this morning. I was scheduled to see my professor half an hour ago!”

Ben chuckles, though it’s tinged with pity. “Thought you might’ve forgotten. It’s okay. Just get dressed and book it. I’m proud of you, kid. You’ve got this.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, already moving around the room attempting to find your jeans. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Looking forward to it.”

You hang up and virtually toss your phone into your backpack. Mark is eyeing you, one brow arched and the blanket pooled low around his waist, naked chest on full view. He seems like he’s ready to taunt you, something sarcastic, probably, but your terrified flailing gives him pause.

“Spider lab?” he says, amused.

You shoot him a glance while tugging your shirt over your head. “Yes, spider lab. I’m a biochem major, remember? We’re investigating gene splicing in arachnids this month. It’s a major thing. There are really people that got waitlisted for this opportunity.”

Mark lifts his legs off the bed, stretching. “Wait. So you’re telling me you’re gonna be in a room full of spiders?”

“Yes,” you deadpan, shoving your feet into your shoes. “Real spiders. Radioactive spiders. Possibly genetically engineered nightmare fuel.”

“…Cool.”

You roll your eyes. “I swear to god, Mark, if I end up with extra limbs-”

“You’ll still be the hottest eight-legged nerd I’ve ever met.”

You sigh, grabbing your luggage and hitting his arm on your way out the door. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

Unfortunately, he’s right. You do.

You halt at the door, heart still beating but for a different cause now. He’s standing there, all sleepy-eyed and naked, a gentle grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Text me when you get there,” he adds, coming closer. His voice is lower now, the amusement dissolving into something more honest. “Just so I know you’re okay.”

You nod, eyes softening. “I will.”

He leans in to kiss you, quick and warm, the type that stays just a little too long for someone who’s apparently in a rush.

You depart with your heart racing and your hair still unkempt from bed. And as you hurry down the hall with your lanyard bouncing and your lab coat packed into your bag, you can’t help thinking…

If something does happen with those spiders today, at least you’ve already acquired a superhero-sized infatuation to match.

You're halfway down the street before you realize you’re wearing one of Mark’s shirts.

It’s not subtle, either. It’s the worn burgundy shirt with the little rip under the neck and a mysterious spot on the sleeve that he maintains “adds character.” It’s entirely too huge on you, submerging your frame, sleeves bunched around your elbows like they’re trying to eat your hands. It smells like his detergent. Like him. And honestly, if you weren’t already late for a very science-y, very formal lab trip, you might've turned back just to kiss him again.

But you don’t have time to be nostalgic.

You're power-walking to the train station like your future depended on it because, really, it sort of does, and mumbling under your breath the entire way. You're going over your professor’s talking points in your brain, trying to remember if you were meant to bring safety goggles (you were), and hoping to any benevolent deity out there that you don’t turn there with morning-after hair and a hickey on your neck. You should’ve looked in a mirror. You knew Mark was going be handsy last night. You knew better. And yet.

Typical.

You’re panting by the time you make it to the lab building, exactly thirty-six minutes late. You sneak in through the back entrance, squeezing behind a janitor cart and nearly tripping over your own shoelaces in the process. You can hear the group discussing already. A cacophony of overlapping voices, the occasional “Whoa!” and “Cool!” and one very distinct cry that sounds like it came from Gwen, the girl who thinks all bugs should be nuked from orbit.

You glide through the doors of the viewing room as discreetly as possible.

And quickly regret not combing your hair.

Dr. Octavious doesn’t halt his lecture when he spots you, thank god, but he does raise an eyebrow when you sneak into place at the back of the group. He’s standing in front of a giant containment glass, gesturing toward a line of tanks filled with… yes. Spiders. Big ones. Some of them blazing. A handful of them twitching abnormally, like their actions are half a second ahead of their own thinking.

“Glad you could join us,” he adds without looking, jotting something on a clipboard. “I trust your morning was… educational.”

You blink. Your face warms up. Does he know?

"Uh, yeah,” you respond hurriedly, voice quivering midway through the word. “Definitely. Learned a lot. Big supporter of education. Love it.”

A few kids peek your way. One of them, Flash, the irritating sophomore who usually asks too many questions, leans over and snickers, “You smell like boy.”

You elbow him. Hard.

Still, as the presentation proceeds and Dr. Octavious goes off about CRISPR gene-editing and venom adaptability, you feel your pulse finally starting to relax. You’re in your element again. Scientific jargon dance comfortably in your brain, and you’re genuinely understanding it, retaining stuff. Which is sort of astounding considering how severely Mark messed with your head last night.

The tour passes through a set of reinforced passageways equipped with climate-controlled viewing tanks. Spiders. Everywhere. Massive ones, little ones, neon-striped ones. Some twitch. Others sit terrifyingly motionless. Each tank has a computerized interface with data items running across the screen, things like venom production, regeneration rates, genetic recombination markers.

Your nerd brain is trying to take it all in, but your emotional brain is still fixated on the fact that you woke up with Mark’s arm slung around your waist and his voice mumbling something sweet and drowsy into your hair.

Focus.

You scoot closer to the rear of the gathering as Dr. Octavious motions to a glass tank with a big, long-legged animal poised on a lattice of synthetic webbing.

“This specimen,” he explains, “has undergone four successful protein modifications in the past six months. What you observe in the shimmer of its exoskeleton is a composite reflective compound produced from octopus chromatophores. The objective is adaptive camouflage.”

The spider moves. Just barely.

You feel your throat constrict.

It’s not that you’re terrified of spiders. You’ve dissected them, analyzed their muscular tissue under microscopes. You’re a biochem major. You live for these things. But something about this one unsettles you.

You gaze sideways at the security panel on the wall. Nothing out of the usual. Still, you can’t ignore the sense that it’s watching you.

You adjust your weight and take a step back, banging against a cabinet.

“Relax,” Gwen says behind you. “It’s not gonna leap out and snatch you. Probably.”

You give her a bland expression and say, “Thanks, really comforting.”

As the group continues on, Dr. Octavious taps his pen against a clipboard. “Keep up. We’ll be headed to the live demonstration lab next. And no one touches anything. I don’t care if you think you’re the next Marie Curie.”

You follow after the others, attempting to absorb the information, nod at the correct times, and take mental notes you’ll type down later when your hands stop trembling.

You’re thankful the tour is fairly quiet, just the gentle shuffle of lab coats, the low hum of ventilation systems, and the odd scribbling of a pen on paper.

And below it all, you still feel the ghost of Mark’s kisses at the back of your neck from this morning.

Your cheeks flush. You focus harder on the notes. You convince yourself this is OK. You’re focused. You’re a serious student.

…Even if you did stroll into a world-class spider genetics center wearing your boyfriend’s shirt, thirty minutes late, with his aroma still clinging to your skin.

Totally fine. Normal. You’ve got this. Probably.

“This is one of our more recently altered specimens,” he says, gesturing toward the main tank in the center of the room. “We’re observing the behavior of arachnids after selective protein editing. What you’re looking at here is a hybrid strain, manipulated for visual camouflage, venom production, and web complexity.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, notepad tucked under your arm. The spider within the tank is enormous. Not horror-movie large, but near enough to make your skin crawl. It’s practically black, but when the light strikes it, there’s this flicker of deep red beneath its surface, like something molten, fighting to come out.

You push yourself to seem interested. You are interested, you swear, you didn’t spend your whole childhood buried in scientific textbooks only to zone out on your first actual tour but your body is exhausted, your brain is still playing catch-up, and your fingers keep brushing against the hem of Mark’s shirt under your coat like a nervous tic.

You slide a bit to the side as Dr. Octavious urges everyone to divide into pairs for the log review section. Most of the students spring into formation like they’ve been rehearsing since preschool. You hover awkwardly until Gwen offers you a courteous nod and tilts her iPad toward you. You smile, grateful, awkward, and walk up next her.

“We’re supposed to compare mutation cycles and gene log timestamps,” she continues, immediately loading up the file index. “Want to take the second sample?”

You nod. “Sure. Sounds… fun.”

She’s not really listening.

While she swipes through the logs, you inch a bit closer to the enclosure, drawn in despite yourself. The spider has moved. It’s up at the top corner of the glass now, motionless and properly positioned, legs extending in that weird, methodical way that makes you feel like it’s waiting for something.

You gaze.

It glances back.

And then, barely a blink, it’s not in the tank anymore.

You frown, leaning in. No one else appears to notice. Gwen is still talking to herself, while the rest of the group is split about the room in pairs, concentrated on the data.

You straighten up slightly, a shiver prickling down your neck.

And suddenly you feel it.

A sting, sharp and abrupt, right beneath the edge of your collar.

“Ah-” You flinch, swatting at your neck instinctively. Your fingertips capture something little and quick, barely a flash of motion as whatever-it-was slips to the ground and skitters behind a neighboring cabinet before you can get a clear look.

You peek around, pulse ticking up a little.

No one noticed. Gwen still scrolling. Octavious is chatting to a pair of pupils near the front of the class. The lab hums with fluorescent light and gentle chatter and the low static of air vents like nothing occurred at all.

You rub at your neck.

It doesn’t actually hurt. More of a pinch. Like a mosquito bite. It’s already disappearing.

Still, you drop your hand and catch a little speck of blood on your fingertip.

You wipe it on your coat before anyone can see.

Probably nothing.

You rejoin Gwen, eyes glancing back to the enclosure which, you now realize, does in fact still have a spider within it. Sitting very still.

Was it always there?

You swallow, nod like everything is okay, and mutter something about switching samples.

“Yeah,” Gwen answers, barely looking up. “Hey, did you see the mutation tags on specimen E-7? The CRISPR splice isn’t holding. They’re going to have to re-sequence.”

You mutter a half-agreeable tone and try to shake the tightness out of your shoulders.

It’s fine. You’re fine. Probably just an electric shock. Or dust. Or…

Whatever. You're overthinking it. You always do.

So you push your tongue to the inside of your cheek, scrawl something that loosely resembles a note into your diary, and try your best to stay focused.

You’ve got thirty more minutes of this tour.

You’re going to appear professional.

You’re going to act normal.

You’re going to ignore the odd heat still pulsating weakly at the base of your neck.

Because clearly, everything’s fine.

The bus trip home is difficult.

Not because of the route, you’ve traveled it a hundred times before, but because every time the brakes screech or someone coughs too loud, it seems like it’s reverberating within your head. Your head is hammering in this deep, full-body way, like the bones behind your eyes are vibrating. You chalk it up to skipping breakfast and the whole sprinting-across-campus-in-a-lab-coat thing. Plus, your neck still kind of hurts where that spider bit you, or… whatever that was. You keep telling yourself it’s nothing. It has to be nothing.

You tap your fingers on your thigh, trying to focus on anything but the pressure mounting in your skull.

The spider didn’t even leave a mark. Just a small dot of dried blood you wiped away, and that was it. No rash. No swelling. No allergic reaction. You didn’t faint or puke or turn into a creature from a late ‘90s sci-fi reboot, so that’s gotta be a victory, right?

Still. You feel odd. Like your limbs don’t entirely belong to you.

The city slides past outside the window, cars, bright lights, the classic rise of red-brick buildings giving way to the more residential things as you get closer to your stop. You close your eyes and lean your forehead on the glass. The chill feels good.

Too good.

When the bus pulls to a stop, you almost miss it.

You stagger down the steps, murmuring a tired “thanks” to the driver before hitting the sidewalk. Your legs feel unsteady. Your stomach lurches unpleasantly. You grab the straps of your backpack and draw in a breath of chilly evening air, hoping it helps.

It doesn’t.

By the time you reach the front door, you're sweating.

Uncle Ben unlocks it before you can even knock. “There you are,” he says, standing aside to let you enter. “Was starting to think you ditched me again for your mystery friend.”

You manage a feeble grin. “No ditching. Just… long day.”

He squints at you, his countenance softening. “You alright, kiddo?”

“Yeah.” It comes out too fast. You try again, quietly. “Just tired.”

You slip off your shoes and hang your bag by the entrance. Your coat gets tossed over the railing as you walk for the stairs. You can feel his gaze on your back the whole way up.

“Dinner’ll be ready in an hour,” he calls. “You want me to wake you if you sleep?”

“I’ll set an alarm,” you murmur, one hand holding the banister like the wood is the only thing keeping you standing.

You don’t make it to the alarm.

The second you enter into your room, something in your body gives out.

You manage to close the door behind you. That’s it.

You rip off Mark’s shirt in sluggish, awkward strokes and hurl it onto the side of the bed, too sweaty and nauseated to care where it goes. Every muscle in your body feels like you just got smashed by a city bus. You wobble toward the bed, clutch the mattress, and drop yourself down like your limbs are made of wet paper.

You don’t even change out of your clothes. You just cuddle up on top of the blanket and put your cheek to the soft pillow, eyes clamping tight as your head spins.

It’s not simply weariness.

It’s wrong.

Your skin is scorching, yet you're shivering too. Your fingertips feel like they’re buzzing. You hold them against your chest, attempting to anchor yourself, but it simply makes you feel more disoriented.

Your breath starts coming in shallow gasps. You can’t tell if it’s worry or fever or something else completely. The room tilts. You strain your eyelids tighter.

You think about yelling out for Ben.

You don’t.

You don’t want to worry him. You don’t want to explain that you might’ve gotten bitten by something in a government-funded gene lab and are now having the worst flu symptoms of your life.

You’ll just rest.

It’s probably just the day catching up with you. You’ve pushed yourself too hard before. Finals week had you running on energy drinks and vending machine trail mix, and you got through that. You’ll get through this.

Just a nap.

Just a little rest.

The last thing you detect before everything slips away is the quiet hum in your ears becoming louder, like static, or maybe your heartbeat. It fills your whole mind, and then

Black.

#invincible #invincible x reader #invincible fanfic #invincible season 3 #invincible angst #invincible x you #mark grayson x reader #invincible smut #reader insert #mark grayson x you #mark grayson smut #smut #mark grayson

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moonlight-prose · 7 months ago

Note

this one from the touch-starved prompt list w logan 😩🫶:

when the other holds onto their waist briefly as they're passing by and it just send chills down their spine

don't mind me

a/n: i need you to know this is pure softness and i am swooning at the thought of how sweet it is. logan is such a gentlemen (cue his words in the wolverine about being old fashioned) and just this thought of him being gentle with the reader, but also respectful. i'm dead. i'm also attached af to this dynamic and would be so open to exploring more with these two. i see the logan here as dofp!logan (especially at the end with that shirt).

summary: you refused to admit that you were smitten with the man who melted your otherwise intelligent mind. you were however...horrible with subtlety. luckily the same could be said for him.

pairing: logan howlett x reader

word count: 1k

warnings: none, fluff, logan howlett is a tease, blossoming of a relationship.

Chaos remained the baseline state when it came to life at the mansion. You couldn't find a way to escape something so natural—a piece of your existence that settled in close to your heart. You liked hearing the children's voices raise in pitch the more excited they got. You liked being showered in hellos as you passed through the halls.

You'd even grown fond of the way you always somehow found yourself stuck in this particular situation. Standing in the kitchen, searching for food, as Logan attempted to make his way through the busy environment.

Few things made you smile the way seeing him in the mornings did. Mussed hair, eyes glazed in partial drowsiness, as he sought for the largest mug tucked in the back of the cabinets. A gag gift from Scott with the claim that the Wolverine needed a cup that could handle him.

(Neither of them would admit it, but the gift remained Logan's favorite piece in the house. A staple in his usual rushed breakfast.)

"Have a nice night?" you asked, attempting to keep your gaze from dropping to his chest.

The white beater he wore never seemed to get old; you absolutely didn't mind seeing him in it at the start of your days.

He grinned, polite and gentlemanly and never anything more. There came days where you wondered if the tension you felt hanging in the air was merely a figment of your imagination. Possibly a delusion to help you cope with such early time slots and late night papers to grade.

"I heard you down here last night."

A grunt rumbled from deep in his chest as he took a sip of coffee large enough to scald his mouth. Screams filtered in through the open doors, quickly followed by a group of kids ready to rummage in the cabinets you both occupied. Which meant your short allotted time with him would soon come to an end, forcing you to pick it up tomorrow morning.

"You want something to eat?" Nodding to the stove with a pan coated in leftover burnt bacon (Scott's attempt at cooking for the kids), you watched Logan's face screw up slightly.

Who could blame him. You wouldn't eat it either.

"Coffee's fine," he mumbled, pouring another helping before small hands were shoving open the door to a variety of cereal. "Gotta get to my class."

You nodded. "History. Right."

He hummed, entirely aware of what occurred inside your chest. How you fidgeted slightly with the watch on your wrist, your eyes unable to remain stuck on his for longer than a few seconds at a time. Logan wasn't an idiot. He understood the tells long before you would dare to admit them out loud.

Clearing your throat, you set your now empty mug in the sink—shifting out of the way to give the students more room. Though the mornings began with enough chaos to keep you on your toes, it was seeing Logan that put you on edge.

The emotions that rifled through your mind mere moments after stepping into his proximity. You began to wonder if there was a way to fix this. Put a stop to how you pined (rather pathetically) over a man who clearly held no interest. You had half a mind to ask Charles for assistance—knowing full well you'd never get over the sheer mortification.

He might laugh—ask if you were in your right mind—but he'd never hold it over you like the others.

But that predicament would have to be settled at a later time. As of two minutes ago...you were late for your first class. The lecture notes were still buried in a stack on your desk; you made a mental note to pick them up on the way.

"Have a good class." Offering a smile, you moved to step out of his way.

Only for the timing (and quite possibly the universe itself) to lead towards you stumbling back from three students barreling towards the kitchen.

His hands latched onto your waist, steadying your movements with a soft grunt, and you tried your best not to choke on your spit. That sound. His touch. You wouldn't make it through the day without those small aspects of him entering your mind—distracting any viable insights you might have had on astronomy as a whole.

Did he have any clue what he did to you?

Or was he merely toying with you on purpose?

Glancing over your shoulder, you caught the small grin that appeared on his face. Barely there yet bright enough to punch a hole right through your chest. He stood tall behind you. A wall you could very well fall into without any worries. That alone left you clutching for some bits of your sanity—whatever remained now sparse enough to be considered laughable.

You tried not to think about the skin you caught small glimpses of in training last week. The sight haunted you for a week—fraying the edges of your mind and turning you to mush. For fucks sake you were a professor. You held enough intelligence to keep Charles Xavier on his toes when wrapped in conversation.

Yet Logan fucking Howlett managed to undo everything that made you the person you were before him now. He muddled what aptitude you had and rendered you entirely dumb.

Some days it left you seething—desperate for a chance to get back at him.

Other days you longed for its familiar warmth.

"You alright there bub?" he rasped, hands still pressed to your hips.

Fighting against your own mind, you plastered a smile on your lips—hoping he might ignore the flutter of your heart. "I'm fine! Thanks for that."

"Have a good day," he replied, his palm brushing the base of your spine as he stepped around you.

Chills clashed with a bewildering heat and curled around your stomach, teasing you with the prospect of his touch somewhere else. You watched his grin deepen, eyes dark with something you'd never before witness from the Wolverine. Want.

"Yeah..." You sucked in a breath, flustered beyond what you could contain in your own body. "You too."

He ducked out towards the hallway long before you had a chance to melt into the floor. A small chuckle resounding in the small confines of the kitchen. Slamming into your chest with enough power to leave you winded.

On your rush to the classroom you finalized your decision.

You'd make that meeting with Charles after all.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett #my writing

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onelittlespiral · 1 year ago

Text

FML: Video

“Shoot, I don’t know about this. Something about watching this feels weird.”

My bro just kept holding my face, “You said you wanted to be one of the bros dude. Just keep watching, this video will tell you everything you need to know”

“Yeah, you said that, but this is just static and nonsense, and something about it has me on edge. Just let me get out of here.”

“But don’t it speak to you? Isn’t there something you want to let out jock boy.”

“I…no, no I… I can’t… stop, what’s happening?”

“Jock boy is about to learn what being a bro is all about. Jock boy wants to listen carefully to his bro and watch the video.”

“No no no… but, it… it sounds so… calm…”

“Yeah jock boy, just like a mind vacation. Just let it happen. Good jock boy.”

“Must… listen… to… bruuuuhhh.”

Sometimes it takes a little convincing, but eventually they all fall. Their eyes grow wide before their muscles go limp and mouths drop open. It usually only takes a little bit for them to process. But when they finally do come too, it’s like a whole different world in there. The first one I did by accident. Found the weird file and sent it to my roommate as a joke. It wasn’t until I got back from class that I saw just how much power I now had.

Gone was the theater kid, in his place was a souped up bro ready to knock back some cold ones, and get sweaty in the gym. It was a surprise when he began rubbing my thigh in the sauna, and pulled me in for a kiss. I melted in his arms as he positioned me on the bench and began stretching me out. I was so relaxed he slid in with no lube, fucking me raw and hard as his tongue kept my mouth distracted from moaning. Thought I just got lucky there, happened to get a gay guy. But I quickly learned for him now, “any hole’s a goal.” And it was confirmed when I tried it with a second guy:

Good old Southern boy, and as straight as they came. Thought he was hot shit in class. Sent him the file when we were on a group project together. By the next day when he came in, he couldn’t add two numbers together with a calculator. He was still smug as hell but in bed, let’s just say he earned it. He was about as thick as an ear of corn, and he knew how to plow a field and spread his seed.

I had tried a couple others since then. A scholarship rival here. A group mate there. A couple disappointing dates that ended up really turning the night around. But my friend had finally gotten curious and started asking some questions. I didn’t need someone to question what was happening. I needed a lifting buddy. This was my first time trying to edit the file to get some different results.

“Hey, bro? What happened last night? I feel hung over as fuck..”

Holy shit he was massive. “Nothing too much bro. You just got fucking shit faced.”

“Huhuhu, yeah,” he gawfed, “sounds right.

It was time to try the trigger and see how much the changes worked, “Hey, jock boy, tell me your name.”

His laughter stopped as his eyes glossed over, “My name is Jack, but my friends just call me Jacked.”

“What do you want more than anything, jock boy?”

“To serve my bros,” he replied.

“Will you do anything for them?”

His mind flickered for a moment. I saw a look of confusion pass over him. He looked down, “Hey, what… WHAT HAPPENED? What did you do-“

I walked up and held his face“JOCK BOY, STOP.”

He tried to fight it, his mind pulling him back to the abyss. But as I watched his body slowly relax, I knew I had won even before he said, “Ye-yeah. Sure thing bro.”

“Jock Boy, will you do anything for your bros?”

His face broke out in a shiteating grin, “Fuck yeah, anything for my bros.”

“New exercise routine. You, face down, ass up. My bed. Now.”

He excitedly ran back to my bedroom. I heard the bed squeal under his weight. Good to know I could edit things. Can’t always let my bros have all the fun.

#bro #straight to gay #fml #jockification #hypnosis #jock

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leonalovesalot · 10 days ago

Text

Freaky on camera I

Brother’sBestFriend!ArtDonaldson x Camgirl!Reader

18+ MinorsDNI

wc: 2.5k

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._

Being a student athlete while maintaining a high enough GPA to keep a full-ride scholarship was no easy feat. Art had spread himself too thin and had barely gotten a taste of that college life he had been so excited for. Between practice, tournaments, exams, and assignments, Art sometimes didn't have time to eat dinner, let alone party. And the one time he did force himself to go to a frat party on a Friday night, he began yawning and felt his eyes getting heavy by ten pm. He called it quits, left without saying goodbye to his friends, and just came back to his dorm to pass out.

He was exhausted and was counting down the days until the summer. A few weeks off school was exactly what he needed. He just had to get through the final stretch of exams and he'd be done. He was already dreaming of driving back home and seeing his parents. Eating a home-cooked meal and sleeping in a room that wasn't the size of a shoebox. He'd hang out with and finally catch up with Patrick after months- just thinking about it was making him smile.

Art had a pretty simple routine. After class, he'd have practice, then he'd come back to his dorm, shower, and study until the words on the page started blurring and floating around. He'd then call it a night, and get in bed with his phone in one hand and a sock in the other. What? He needed a way to relieve stress and it's not like he'd gotten a girlfriend during his time at college. A girlfriend who'd be eager to suck him off whenever he needed. A girlfriend who'd be ready to please him anytime. No, he hadn't found anyone and so his hand would have to suffice.

Lately, though, the usual videos didn't do it for him. Watching two people go at it wasn't personal enough for him- it got him hard but he was still craving something else. He was embarrassed to admit, but he wanted to feel seen, noticed - he wanted interaction.

Tonight, like any other night, he was ready with his earbuds in and phone in his hand. He looked up the usual site he visited and typed in his usual search. He clicks on a video that looks appealing and starts to bring his hand down under his boxers waiting for the page to load. The page loads but he's met with a pop-up ad instead. In large, pink letters it read "Want company? The hottest girls are only a click away. No bullshit!" Art groans, annoyed, and is about to click the small 'x' on the corner but something makes him pause.

Isn't this what he wanted? Interaction? Not to be alone?

It looked like a cam-girl website which intrigued him. Why hadn't he ever tried this before? He knew it wasn't free, but he was curious. Maybe just for tonight he could check it out? See if there's anything worth his time (and money). He pulls his hand out of his boxers and sits up in his twin bed. He goes ahead and clicks on the ad which then directs him to a new page.

A bunch of thumbnails of women, some naked, with a big red 'LIVE' in the corner. Woah, this was the real deal. He scrolls down for a moment, familiarizing himself with the site until it asks him to sign up and subscribe 'for all your fantasies in one place'. There was a week-long free trial, and after a few minutes of heavy debating, he decided to sign up.

Username: _________

Art pauses and thinks for a few seconds. He couldn’t use his actual name but maybe he could rearrange the letters?

He types in slowly: GoldenSon

He makes up a quick password and mindlessly agrees to the terms and conditions. The account was ready.

He repeats to himself he was only doing this to feed his curiosity. He'd definitely cancel after the free trial ended.

When the paywall finally went away, he continued scrolling. The amount of people watching some of these videos was blowing his mind. One woman had 12.6k viewers. So, almost thirteen thousand people were watching one woman pleasure herself. Art thought it was kind of laughable but realized he was here to do the same. He scrolled down further and the numbers of viewers began to decrease.

Coming upon people with a few hundred viewers was a lot less intimidating. He thought that maybe this is what he was looking for. His eyes raked over the whole webpage before him and suddenly widened at the sight of a specific thumbnail. His eyes squinted and he zoomed in to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

Art gasps, his breath catching in his throat. He turns his phone off, and hurls it toward the foot of the bed. His heart was beating a mile a minute and his face was burning up.

That couldn’t be right?

That… no.

No.

He sat on his bed with his face buried in his hands.

He thought he saw you. Patrick’s sister. On a fucking cam-girl site.

He shakes his head. No no. He was definitely mistaking you for someone else. No way.

He catches his breath and lifts his head from his hands. His eyes dart to his laptop on the desk across the room. There’s no harm in making sure right? He’d be doing this to keep his mind at peace.

He swallows and pushes the covers away. He knew his plans for the night were cancelled as he made his way over to his study corner.

Art sits down, opens his laptop and types in the website's name. He pauses to take a deep breath. Okay. Here we go.

He scrolls down slowly, eyeing every thumbnail.

He didn’t know what he wanted. If it really was you, what would he do with that information? Would he tell Patrick? Should he?

Even if it wasn’t you, he still finds the whole situation a little weird. Why was he picturing you, of all people, on this site? And at this time of the night?

Art had known you your whole life. At least that’s how it seemed. He didn’t know you that well because you were always just ‘Patrick’s sister’ to him. He could count on one hand the number of conversations he’d had with you, one-on-one. But he still, loosely, knew what you were up to and the type of person you were. A nice girl who kept to herself and had a tight-knit group of friends. Not much else to it.

He finally scrolls down far enough and comes across the videos with a few hundred views. He took a deep breath and carefully ran his eyes over each row.

His eyes stopped at one thumbnail. And he felt like his heart was going to follow suit.

It was you.

Holy fuck it was you.

It was larger on his laptop screen so he clearly recognized your face, your hair, your eyes, and your lips. He reads the alias you've created for yourself - 'YourRoxy'. He then hovers his cursor over the small box and debates clicking.

His curiosity was fist fighting his self-restraint.

Curiosity won.

Art closes his eyes tight and clicks on the thumbnail.

“Ooh! A new viewer. Hey, welcome.” Your voice sounded different than it usually did. You were putting on a persona, clearly. One with a low and sensual voice that spread goosebumps all over his body.

Art opens his eyes, and stares at you properly now. You took up his whole screen. His eyes began to look everywhere, but at you. It felt wrong.

The chat at the side of the screen was filled with men, and women it seemed, sharing their dirtiest thoughts and questions. There were currently a hundred and four people watching you. Some sent money along with their comments and those were the ones you were enthusiastically responding to.

Art takes in a shaky breath.

His eyes finally wander back to you. He’d never seen you in such little clothing. A skimpy, white tank top that barely covered your breasts. God, what were you doing? How was this real?

Your eyes narrowed at a comment and you read it to yourself under your breath, “are you single?”

Art’s ears perk up.

You giggle softly, “I am, yeah. I have yet to meet a man who can handle me.” You smirk at the camera and tilt your head.

Art hadn’t even blinked since he started watching you. You knew what you were doing. How did he not notice how fucking sexy you were when he’d come over before? He shakes his head. No, that’s wrong. Why would he think that way? That would jeopardize his friendship with Patrick.

“Yeah? You could handle me Dan96?” You smile sweetly, “I’d like to know how. Tell me.”

Oh my god. How could you say these things? And why couldn’t Art just turn away?

Dan96 had sent you $50 for that one question. You made fifty bucks in, literally, one second.

Art shakily brings his hand up to the keyboard and types in the question: how does this work?

He sends it in and notices that you hadn’t responded.

No, you were too busy flirting with Dan96.

You bite your lip and smile, “you’d choke me while fucking me? I like that. A little choking never hurt anyone”

Art’s eyes widened. He’d never heard you say such explicit things. What’s more shocking though was that he was starting to get hard. He groans- this was so wrong!

He swallows and decides to send in his question again, but this time attaching five bucks to it.

GoldenSon: how does this usually work?

He chews on his lip while he waits. You stop mid- sentence while talking to Dan96 and look at the new comment.

“How does this usually work?” You chuckle gently and Art feels himself grow slightly embarrassed.

“I’m guessing you’re new uhm.. GoldenSon. Aw, what a cute name.” Art covers his face with his hands. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He was getting more aroused by the second. It really had been a while since he talked to a girl. A pretty one too. God, you were pretty. How had he not noticed?

“This can work however you’d like. I’m here to chat.. we can talk about your day. My day- anything really. Or if you’d like me to do something .. like take off my clothes,” Art’s breath hitched. “Mm you want me to touch myself? You want me to talk you through it? I’m here for anything. I’m here for you. All I want is to make you feel good.” You lick your lips.

Art was drooling onto his keyboard. There was a tent in his boxers now that was getting uncomfortable to ignore.

Fuck, he wanted to touch himself so bad. He wanted you to touch him.

Oh, god. This was a mistake.

He should’ve just gone to bed. Why did he click on the ad? Why did he make an account? Why did he scroll so far down? Why did you have to be so alluring? Why was he typing into the chat again?

Why was he asking you to help him get off?

GoldenSon: Talk me through it

Art trembled as he moved his hands over the keyboard.

He watches your expression morph into one full of intrigue.

"Alright, baby. Are you hard for me?" You tilt your head and lean a little closer to the camera, accentuating your tits.

Art gulps and brings his right hand down to his throbbing cock. There was a wet spot forming on his boxers already. This was going to be quick.

GoldenSon: So hard

You read his comment and smile immediately. Art mentally pats himself on the back like he was desperate for your approval.

The disturbing fact that you were his best friend's sister was still rattling around in his mind but was silenced by the overwhelming arousal he was feeling.

"I like the sound of that. I wanna get you off. I wish I was there with you, GoldenSon," You brought your hand up to rest your chin on. It was all strategic because your pinky finger was resting on your bottom lip which was then parted and your pinky was in between your teeth.

Art stared like a deer in headlights at your pretty lips, and your pretty mouth.

Did you mean it? He shivered. Did you mean what you said about wanting to be there with him? Have you ever thought of him in a sexual way? Or was he just Patrick's friend to you?

A moan interrupts his thoughts as he looks down and realizes he had his hand wrapped around his girthy cock and was moving it up and down.

He brings his free hand to type into the chat again.

GoldenSon: wish ypu wer here too

Normally he'd be annoyed about the typos but his focus was fully on his pleasure and your face.

"If I was there, I'd be ready for you- on my knees. Ready to make you feel good. You must be a hard working man. You deserve someone to make you feel good. Oh, I wanna taste you so bad." You let out a small whine and brought your hand to your breast and squeezed it.

Art's eyes widened and he couldn't believe the sight in front of him. This was like a million layers of fucked up.

You were Patrick's sister.

He was Patrick's friend. Best friend.

You had no idea that he was the one speaking to you like this.

You had no idea he was jerking off to your fucking tits when he'd barely spare you a glance on most days.

Art tightened his grip, applying more pressure, and continued the motion as he stared closely at your breasts.

GoldenSon: im cloxer

You smile at his typo, which probably indicated to you that he was more focused on something else.

"I want you to cum for me, baby. Oh, I wish I could taste it. I'd lick it all off you- every last drop. Clean you up with my tongue. You want that don't you?" You pulled your tank top down and one of your tits sprung out, which you cupped and played with.

Art watches in shock. He then shuts his eyes tight and feels himself reach his climax with the image of your tits on his mind. He feels hot release drip down his palms and he groans as he milks himself. He pants and catches his breath, still in a daze.

GoldenSon: Thank you, Roxy

"Of course, baby." You blow a kiss at the screen, "I'm here Tuesday's and Friday's after ten pm," You cover yourself up with your tank top again. "Will I see you again?" You were staring into the camera with your twinkling eyes.

You had him in a trance. Patrick's sister had him in a trance.

GoldenSon: Yes

[GoldenSon has gifted you $20]

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If I told you I wrote half of this while in line at the bank would you believe me?

Thank you for reading, as always!!

#challengers #challengers fic #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #Spotify

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mintyys-blog · 1 month ago

Text

MORE THEN JUST BUSINESS — mark grayson x reader

WARNINGS: none

Y/N had always admired real estate. From the glossy magazine covers to the sharp business deals, everything about it fascinated her. She spent her days attending classes and reading about the industry, all while envisioning herself working beside the biggest names in the business.

But being just a few blocks away from a successful real estate agent like Debbie Grayson, Mark’s mother, made her dream seem closer. Much closer. Debbie had become a mentor to Y/N, offering advice and sharing stories about how she’d built her career from the ground up. In return, Y/N did her best to help out whenever Debbie needed a hand with anything, whether it was organizing papers or running errands. It wasn’t long before they spent more time together than just business.

Every afternoon, Y/N found herself at the Graysons’ house, often perched on their porch with a cup of coffee, listening to Debbie’s advice about selling homes, the importance of staging, and the strict, complicated regulations that governed the market.

“You have to know the area like the back of your hand,” Debbie would say. “Every neighborhood has its quirks. You need to know where the best schools are, what the local market is like, and how to sell the house with its unique charm.”

Debbie’s passion for real estate was infectious. Y/N could see herself thriving in the industry, her own future just as bright. They laughed together, shared stories, and Y/N soaked in all the lessons.

Then, of course, there was Mark.

Mark Grayson, Debbie’s son, was quiet but kind, a bit reserved but thoughtful. Y/N didn’t see him much at first; he was often off with his own set of friends, busy with school, or simply keeping to himself. But as Y/N became a more frequent guest at the Graysons’, their paths crossed more often.

One evening, while Y/N was on the porch with Debbie, sipping lemonade and listening to one of her many insightful stories about the importance of curb appeal, Mark came out with a basketball in hand.

“Hey, Mom. Y/N,” he greeted, his voice soft but warm.

Y/N turned, offering a smile. “Hey, Mark! You going for a game?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Just shooting some hoops.” He paused, glancing at Y/N. “You’re here a lot, huh?”

She laughed, feeling the flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. “I guess so. But mostly for the great real estate advice,” she said, nudging Debbie with her elbow.

Debbie chuckled. “Well, she’s got a lot to learn, but she’s coming along great.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “Real estate, huh? You thinking of following in my mom’s footsteps?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, actually. It’s always been my dream. Debbie’s been helping me a lot.”

“That’s cool,” Mark said, then glanced at the basketball. “You want to come shoot around? It’s a great way to clear your head.”

Y/N hesitated for just a moment before nodding. “Sure, why not?”

The basketball court was just a few steps away, and soon they were both laughing as they took turns trying to make shots. Mark’s easygoing nature made Y/N feel comfortable, and before long, they were talking about everything and nothing—real estate, the future, and how they each saw their lives unfolding.

“Sounds like you’ve got a good plan,” Mark said as he grabbed the ball from Y/N and tossed it in the air with practiced ease. “So, when do you officially start selling houses?”

Y/N grinned. “Well, I still have to pass my exam, but I’ll be ready.”

“Debbie’s been really good to you, huh?”

Y/N nodded. “She’s amazing. I don’t know where I’d be without her. She’s been like a second mom to me.”

Mark smiled, his eyes softening. “She’s a good one, alright. She’s always been there for me, even when I didn’t realize I needed her.”

As the sun began to set, they continued their game, laughing, exchanging stories, and slowly getting to know each other better. Y/N realized that she liked Mark more than she had anticipated. He was down-to-earth, humble, and so different from the typical high school jock.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N’s visits to the Graysons’ house became a regular occurrence. Every time she was over, Mark seemed to pop in unexpectedly, joining them on the porch or offering to help her with her studies. They found themselves bonding over things that were completely unrelated to real estate—like movies, their favorite bands, and their shared love of cheesy pizza.

One afternoon, after a particularly lengthy chat about market trends, Y/N stood to leave, gathering her notes and heading for the door.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up,” Mark called from the living room. He was standing there, his hands in his pockets, his expression serious but warm.

“Yeah?” Y/N asked, turning back to him.

“I was wondering… if you ever want to take a break from all the real estate stuff, maybe you could join me for a coffee sometime. No work talk. Just… you know, a little fun.”

Y/N blinked, surprised but pleased. “I’d like that,” she replied, smiling.

And so it began—the first of many coffee dates, casual hangouts, and, slowly, the growing connection between Y/N and Mark. As she continued to learn from Debbie, it was becoming clear that there was more to life than just business. There was also the possibility of something special, something that could develop alongside her career. And she was more than willing to make it happen.

#x reader #reader insert #x female reader #invincible x fem!reader #invincible x y/n #invincible x you #invincible x reader #invincible #mark grayson x y/n #mark grayson x you #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #debbie grayson

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jinwoosungs · 7 months ago

Text

09/26/24; 12:20pm

- the academy arc -

yandere!sung jinwoo x fem.reader

anonymous asked: Hello! I've always admired your writing, and finally thought of an ask for you! What about yandere jinwoo with an oblivious reader? Its kinda funny how the reader has so much influence over him, and dont realize it, after all, how could they think he's dangerous when he's all soft for them, and only them... Oblivious to all the danger he causes to others

warnings: incredibly dark themes; harassment and petty bullying.

you felt butterflies erupting all across your abdomen, feeling your gaze darting all across the new sights and scenery of your high school. feeling a bit uncomfortable, you pull at the collar of your blouse and adjusted your tie at least a hundred times leading up to this very moment.

tightening your grip on your bag, you hardened your resolve and nodded, stepping into the school with as much confidence that you could manage. avoiding the crowd of students, you kept to yourself and take the flight of stairs up to the second floor. you trail your eyes across the labeled classroom before entering the one labeled 2-a.

you pass by a boy wearing a single glove, reading his textbook while flipping the pages with a bored expression. he sits near the back row, and you take the opposing corner, trying to remain as small as possible while getting out your pencils and notebooks for the day.

the sight of you settled off to the side makes the boy stop reading, and you caught a glimpse of how he was staring at you from your periphery, but wasn’t brave enough to meet his gaze. instead, you distract yourself by writing reassuring mantras in your notebook.

it’s going to be fine.

today is the first day of class for everyone.

surely no one is going to notice how you’re the newbie.

as the minutes ticked by, you became increasingly aware of the students that walked in, laughing while talking about their breaks. just as the bell rings, signifying the start of the day, your homeroom teacher just had to notice you as he forced you to introduce yourself to the whole class.

throughout it all, you were a stuttering mess, forcing out the syllables that made up your name all while feeling like your knees would give away at any minute now. the heat was felt burning against your cheeks, traveling down the length of your neck by the end of it all. when the teacher lets out a grunt of approval, you sat back down as quickly as you could.

a rich chuckle was heard coming from your left, and you took a quick peek over to see the same, perfect boy who had been studying softly laughing at you. his attention was on his open textbook, but you could tell that he was still looking at you from his periphery, those grey eyes drawing you in-

you clear your throat and look away from him, feeling the warmth now spreading to the rest of your body. the hours kept ticking by until finally, it was lunchtime. you grab your lunchbox from the confines of your bag, but found that you didn’t have much of an appetite.

as you debated on what to do for lunch, a loud whistle makes you gasp, looking over to see a group of rowdy looking boys making their way towards you. you visibly stiffen, willing them to go away, but your prayers were all for naught when the entered the classroom, already sauntering their way closer to you.

“man, when i heard there was a new girl here, i didn’t expect her to be so cute.”

you cling to your lunchbox, ready to bolt when needed. your anxiety was shot through the roof now, watching as the boys came closer to you when they suddenly stopped dead in their tracks. it appeared that they had a difficult time moving, like there was an invisible wall that kept them from coming closer to you. noticing their strange behavior, you visibly relax, watching their stiff movements as they walked out of the classroom and fell into a pile in the middle of the busy hallways.

laughter was heard erupting all across the hallways, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. the same soft chuckle was heard, and you look upwards to see your classmate standing before you. he had perfect, ebony locks of hair with grey eyes that shone with a startling clarity. “hey, are you alright?”

“oh, i’m fine! thank you for asking…”

the boy shakes his head. “there’s no need to be so stiff around me. just think of me as your new friend.”

your mind was spinning now, practically on cloud 9 at the thought of having this cute boy as your new best friend. you smile up at him, watching as he sheepishly brushes back his hair before reaching out a hand for you to take. “the name’s sung jinwoo, and would you like to have lunch together with me?”

you nod and stand from your seat with your lunchbox in hand. “of course!”

jinwoo gives you a kind smile, stepping out of the classroom with you. you see the same rowdy boys glaring daggers at jinwoo, yet he doesn’t relent, standing protectively in front of you. the boys end up scoffing before walking away. as jinwoo leads you in the opposite direction, you remain blissfully unaware of how shadows seemed to dart away from jinwoo while aiming toward the group of boys who dared to make you uncomfortable.

{ … }

the trio of girls had purposely intercepted your walk to school, pulling at your hair before tossing you aside, making you land against the hard pavement of the sidewalk. you had the air knocked out of your lungs when you suddenly felt the contents of your packed lunch land over your head.

tears were felt filling at your eyes, and you watch as a girl leans down closer to you, her blond curls framing at her face while icy blue eyes glare down at you, “who the hell do you think you are, getting so close to my jinwoo like that?”

her lackeys stand beside her, all sneering at you while exchanging looks of disdain towards you. ah, it seems as though your seemingly perfect life was coming to an end, with jinwoo’s own fanclub coming after you now. you had barely been basking in your school life and newfound freedom with jinwoo for a month when the drama suddenly started.

it started about a week ago, when you found safety pins on your seat and your notebooks ripped to shreds. you did your best to ignore it while hiding your troubles from jinwoo, yet it only seemed to strengthen the bully’s hatred for you.

and now, it had come to a boiling point, as the three girls continued to mock and sneer at you, teasing you, making fun of all your imperfections while stating how you were a mere “charity case” for jinwoo.

by the end of their torment, you were a sobbing mess, all alone as the girls quickly left you behind with their harsh laughters echoing in your ear. the stickiness felt from having your lunch dumped all over you made you feel worse than you ever felt, and you knew that you couldn’t go to school like this.

while you were wallowing in your misery, you remain completely unaware of the way your shadow lengthened, reveal jinwoo as he steps out of it. he says nothing, simply falling down to his knees before taking you in his arms. “i was worried about you not being in class today.”

hearing his voice makes you cry out to him, facing him as you hugged him closer to you. jinwoo didn’t mind how messy your uniform was, simply holding you closer to his chest. he lets out soft coos of your name, allowing you to let out all of your tears and frustrations. while keeping your head kept protectively against his chest, his eyes began to glow a startling purple hue, already commanding his soldiers to get rid of three, new targets.

{ … }

after your encounter with the bullies, the next day, you felt a strange sense of dread consuming you. you truly wanted nothing more than to skip-

or transfer-

yet jinwoo stops you from even considering moving away from him. and after much convincing from his end, (“don’t worry, i’ll be by your side the whole time if those girls come back!”) you relent and head to school with him.

upon entering your classroom, you felt a strange sense of relief filling you. you saw no signs of those nameless, petty girls, and you visibly relaxed. upon entering the classroom with jinwoo, he seemed to flash you a knowing grin, as if silently telling you i told you so.

needless to say, with those girls seemingly gone, (maybe even transferred to a different school?), you were able to resume the peaceful school days with jinwoo by your side.

and of course, he shared his lunch with you because he “always made extra” and knew of your healthy appetite.

of course he walked home with you every single day after your club activities, simply because “it was dangerous for girls to walk home at night” and he was your “best friend who wished to keep you safe.”

you saw no red flags-

becoming so blinded by his own brilliance that it made you blissfully unaware of the neverending darkness settled in the depths of his heart and soul.

{ … }

it was amazing how you couldn’t see just how obsessed sung jinwoo was with you.

ever since that first day, where you had entered his classroom and introduce yourself, becoming a mess of stutters in the process-

you had completely captured jinwoo’s heart.

throughout that first day, he kept sneaking glances at you, thinking of way to properly approach you before wrapping his tendrils of darkness around your heart, further trapping you within his web.

with beru and igris talking his ear off, knowing of their king’s desire to capture your heart as well, they were obnoxiously supportive, thinking of ways to help with winning you over. and just as he was ready to approach you-

those damn men had to ruin it all.

jinwoo could see the fear and discomfort in your eyes-

the way you stiffened in response and how you looked like you wanted nothing more than for the earth to swallow you whole.

but he stops them from coming any closer to you, using his abilities as the shadow monarch to freeze them, controlling their jerky movements until they were tossed out of the classroom.

later that night, after beru had dealt with them, jinwoo reappears and gazes down at their lifeless bodies.

arise.

he commands their shadows to awaken, tying their souls to him for all eternity as they now obeyed his every desire and whim. even when the teachers questioned their absences, jinwoo made sure to dispose of their corpses. he had thought about erasing everyone’s memories pertaining to them-

but he was achingly aware of how it would alter your memories as well, which made him hesitate when it came to executing it. for now, as long as you remained blissfully unaware, then he would allow yours (and everyone else’s memories) to remain intact.

after all, what did he have to worry about? to the whole world, he was the ideal student, making 100’s on all of his assignments while doing his best to win the heart of the girl he adores. no one has any reason to suspect him of any foul play.

and he was going to use this seemingly perfect image of him to his advantage.

once jinwoo saw you again, he pretends to bump into you, successfully gifting you his freshly made soldiers by having them morph into your shadow as you remained clueless to his abilities.

after all, seeing your smile and how much happier you were with them out of your life was like receiving a piece of heaven for jinwoo. he lived for your laughters and could feel his devotion for you growing by mere seconds.

that was his first act of love and devotion toward you.

and the second act?

i believe we know when that was, too.

red hot anger was felt coursing through jinwoo’s veins when he found you broken and tossed aside, with the contents of your lunch thrown over you. though it pained him a great deal to watch your suffering through the eyes of his shadows, he had to confirm the identity of your pursuers before taking action.

as you sought comfort within his embrace, jinwoo commanded at least a hundred of his soldiers to stalk those who dared to bully you, not even feeling an ounce of regret when not even their corpses were found due to how they had all been ripped to shreds.

jinwoo didn’t bother extracting shadows from his latest victims, knowing that you would be so much happier without any traces of them close to you.

so, as he lay in bed with you sleeping so soundly within his arms, he silently vows his loyalty to you alone. his heart already burning with an inferno of emotions when it came to you and how you made him feel so alive-

and he never wanted this feeling to end.

he would never tell you the truth of his darkness either, or the things he had done to keep you safe and happy, oh no-

for why would he when you could forever remain his precious girl, living in a perfect sandbox that he had made specifically for you, all while swearing to protect it with his life?

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo x you #sung jinwoo x y/n #jinwoo sung x reader #jinwoo sung x you #jinwoo sung x y/n #solo leveling x reader #yandere imagine #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #writings 📖

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sxhyunstoes · 24 days ago

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"Kiss me, Hate me"

Triple S Sohyun x Male reader WC: 4.3k

A/n: Its a bit all over the place but I have been praticing and trying to find a format that works for me. Anyways enjoy!!

==============================================

Second term is finally over and I get to do what I want for two weeks. I never thought that the term would be over, with how many tasks and activities our professors gave us, it seemed unending. There is also the fact that my academic life has been a series of unfortunate events ever since ‘she’ came around.

Park Sohyun, the princess of the university. Pretty, popular, rich and worst of all, an insufferable woman who made my academic life the most miserable thing that I had ever experienced. Everyone wanted to be in her circle, everyone (not me) wanted to be her friend.

Guys line up at her to bring her gifts almost every week just to get her attention. But she seems disinterested with them. But not me, she picked me over every one, but not in the good kind. Ever since she came to the school and became my blockmate, she decided to make my life miserable. Everything she did was seemingly designed to torment me and only me.

She would push me around literally every time she saw me at the hallways of the university, or trip me over when I walked to class. Then there's this one time where she randomly smacked my face while I was studying in my seat. She would also make me do her homeworks and projects and if I didn’t do it she would tell me that I would suffer the consequences of being disobedient towards her. But today as the term ends, all of that will come to a halt for the time being, I get to rest my aching body from the schoolworks and bullying I receive from Sohyun.

I am currently seated in front of my computer, playing games that I hadn’t had a chance to touch ever since the term started, trying to catch up. Then my phone suddenly rang. It was Xinyu, a part of Sohyun’s circle who I became friends with when we got partnered up for a school project. She gave me an invite to go to her birthday party that also served as a term-ender party, and said ‘everyone will come so you should too’. Everyone meant everyone so it’s not far off that Sohyun will definitely attend which made me not wanna go, but on the other hand I didn’t wanna disappoint Xinyu since it is her birthday that she invited me on. So I swallowed my fears and got ready to go to the party.

After some time, I got ready and hopped in my car to head to the mall first and got Xinyu a gift that she once told me she liked in a passing conversation. She said that she had liked perfumes of a specific brand and she is trying to collect them, so I got to the boutique of the said brand and bought a bottle of a perfume that had a hefty price tag that came with it. I got it wrapped and finally headed my way towards the party.

The venue was no joke, it was a villa that had a overlooking view of the beach and I’m guessing that Xinyu’s family owned it. I could see the strobing lights from where I’m currently situated. I went inside the gates of the villa, and found myself an area where I could park the car. I finally got out of the car and went towards the entrance and saw that there was a man who had a checklist of the names who were invited to the party. When I got to the entrance the man asked for my name but luckily enough Xinyu walked by and saw me.

“Y/n! Oh my god, I’m glad you could make it!” said Xinyu as she reached for my hand around the guard’s body.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t miss this for anything!” as I held her hand back to signify that we know each other.

Xinyu then whispered something to the guard and the man let me in the house without checking my name on the list. She then hugged me and welcomed me to the party. While initiated with the hug I wished her a happy birthday and then gave her the gift I had prepared for her.

“Oh my god, Y/n! You shouldn’t have!” as Xinyu grabbed the gift. She then opened it in front of me and the gleam in her eyes as she saw what my present was told me that she liked the gift I gave her.

“Oh my, thank you so much Y/n!” She then initiated another hug that was quicker than the first one.

“I had just run out of this one, you saved me the inconvenience of going to the store!” she continued.

“Well, I’m glad you liked it and I’m that I could be of service!” I answered.

She then excused herself and had to go and welcome other people to the party, I let her be and then she went away not without telling me to enjoy the party.

So I did, I explored the villa and met some of the people whom I haven’t had the chance to interact with when we’re in school. There’s this girl Giselle, who had very striking red hair that greatly compliments her beauty. She told me that she just transferred to the university due to her parents moving to the country for business, when I asked her from where she was from, she told me that she was from Japan, which struck me a surprise because I was originally from Japan as well, we then code switched to Japanese much to everyone listening to our conversation’s chagrin, and we easily became friends.

After a lengthy conversation with Giselle about our lives, I excused myself to go to the kitchen and get myself a drink. While getting a drink and some snacks, a familiar voice came from behind me that made my shoulders tense up.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

The voice cut through the party chatter, instantly recognizable even before I turned around. Sohyun stood a few feet away, arms crossed, her expression unreadable in the dim lighting.

I took a steadying breath before answering. "Xinyu invited me," I said, keeping my voice even despite the way my pulse jumped.

Sohyun's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Did she now?" There was that familiar edge to her voice, though quieter than usual. "Guess she's feeling generous tonight."

My fingers tightened around my cup, but I forced myself to relax. "Yeah, guess so," I said with a shrug. I hoped it looked more casual than it felt. "Have a good time, Sohyun."

I turned to walk away before she could respond, weaving through the crowd toward where some classmates were talking. The music and laughter helped drown out the tension still coiled in my shoulders, and for a while, I almost forgot about the encounter.

But when I glanced back across the room later, I caught Sohyun watching me with that same inscrutable look. She quickly turned away when she noticed me looking, leaving me to wonder what was going through her head.

At first, I thought ignoring her would work - that if I didn't react, she'd eventually lose interest. But Sohyun had other plans. Like a shadow I couldn't shake, she inserted herself into every conversation, every group I tried to join. The worst part? She made it look effortless. With her natural charm and social grace, she'd take over the discussion within seconds, leaving me standing there like an awkward afterthought.

Then came the interruptions. The subtle digs. The way she'd casually drop "loser" into conversation like it was my actual name, flashing that razor-sharp smile as strangers chuckled with uncertainty. Each time, I'd feel my face grow hot, my words dying in my throat as I mumbled excuses and retreated to another corner of the party.

This cruel dance continued all night - her pursuing, me retreating - until something inside me snapped. There's a strange clarity that comes when you hit your breaking point. All the embarrassment, the frustration, the swallowed comebacks crystallized into one undeniable truth: tonight, Sohyun had gone too far.

It was when I was talking to our senior, Yooyeon noona.

It was quite tame at first, it was just her interrupting our conversations with her being loud. She kept laughing brazenly near me and she kept calling for my attention repeatedly. Then it escalated to her being quite touchy towards me. She kept touching my face, squeezing my cheeks with a single hand, and she kept exploring my shoulder with her hands. She kept shaking me, completely interrupting Yooyeon noona and I’s conversation.

So I excused myself to Yooyeon noona and grabbed Sohyun by her arms and went towards a quiet area deep inside the villa to confront her.

“What the hell is your problem?!” My voice ripped through the air, raw with anger.

Sohyun just kept giggling, that infuriating, mocking sound scraping against my nerves. “Oh, come on. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You think this is funny?” My hands clenched at my sides. “I haven’t had a single real conversation since you started this bullshit. Do you get off on ruining things for me?”

She tilted her head, a smirk playing on her lips. “Why would anyone waste time talking to a loser like you?”

“And besides,” she added, flicking her hair over her shoulder, “it’s not like you’ve got anything interesting to say anyway.”

Something inside me snapped.

“You know why nobody actually likes you, Sohyun?” The words tore out of me, sharp and venomous. “Everyone tolerates you because of Xinyu. That’s it. If she dropped you tomorrow, you’d be nothing. Just some bitter, lonely girl nobody wants around.”

Her smirk faltered, but I wasn’t done.

“What, did your parents not love you enough? Is that why you’re like this? Desperate for attention, even if it’s negative?”

Her face changed—the arrogance crumbling into something hollow, wounded. But my anger was a wildfire now, unstoppable.

“Or maybe you were always second best. Maybe everything you do is just you screaming, ‘Look at me! Pick me!’—”

“Shut up.” Her voice was low, dangerous. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“Or what?” I stepped closer, my pulse roaring in my ears. “You’ll punch me again? Go ahead. It’s not like you know how to deal with anything except violence and mmm—”

Her hands shot out, gripping my collar pulling me towards her—and then her lips crashed into mine.

I tried to push her off of me, but her grip was too tight—her fingers dug into the collar of my shirt like she was afraid I’d vanish if she let go. At first, I resisted, my hands pressing against her waist in protest, but the desperation in her kiss was overwhelming. The way her lips moved against mine, trembling and insistent, made my resolve crumble. Before I knew it, I was kissing her back, the tension between us igniting into something feverish and uncontrollable. The kiss was already heating up, but it became even more intense when she suddenly shoved me against the hallway wall, her body pressing into mine as if trying to erase any space left between us.

Then I noticed it—the dampness on both of our faces. At first, I thought it was sweat from the heat of the moment, but when I pulled back slightly, I saw the tears streaking her cheeks. She was crying, her breath hitching between kisses, yet she refused to break contact, her lips still clinging to mine as if they were her only anchor. The salt of her tears mixed with the taste of her mouth, and my chest ached with the weight of whatever pain she couldn’t voice. Why was she crying? Why did this kiss feel like a plea? The hallway around us blurred, the only thing real being the warmth of her body and the quiet, shuddering sobs she couldn’t hold back.

She then let go of our lips but she kept crying.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n… I’m so sorry.”

Her voice was barely a whisper, broken and small as she kept her head bowed. Tears darkened the fabric of my shirt where they fell. I froze for a moment—unsure how to respond—before instinct took over. Gently, I pulled her against me, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other pressed protectively against her shoulder blades. She shuddered, her apologies muffled against my chest, her fingers clutching fistfuls of my sleeves like I might vanish if she let go.

Time blurred. The party’s noise faded into a distant hum, leaving only the sound of her slowing breaths and the occasional hiccup of fading sobs. When she finally lifted her head, I turned away, my jaw tight—but her fingers, warm and trembling, brushed my cheek and guided my gaze back to hers.

“I mean it,” she said, her eyes red-rimmed but steady. “I’m sorry for everything. The bullying. The teasing. The way I humiliated you in front of everyone—” Her voice cracked. “—even the kiss. That wasn’t fair.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but she pressed a finger to my lips. “Please, let me finish?”

I nodded, and her hand slid back to cup my face, thumb tracing the curve of my cheekbone as if memorizing it.

“I didn’t know how to talk to you,” she admitted. “With others, I could fake it—laugh, flirt, play the part. But you? You were kind to me from the start, even when I didn’t deserve it. It terrified me.” A faint, self-deprecating smile flickered across her lips. “So I teased you. Pushed you away. Because if I could make you hate me, then I wouldn’t have to face how much I—” She swallowed. “—how much I liked you. And the more I felt it, the worse I acted.”

My breath caught. She liked me? The confession hit like a punch to the ribs, leaving me lightheaded.

“But why not just talk to me?” I asked, voice rougher than I intended. “Why push me away if you wanted me close?”

Her thumb stilled. “Because you were right earlier,” she whispered. “About… all of it. My family. The attention. The way I—” She exhaled sharply, as if the words burned. “I didn’t know how to ask for what I needed. So I took it instead.”

Her words hung between us, raw and vulnerable. I couldn’t meet her gaze—not when my own guilt churned inside me like a living thing.

She’d liked me all along.

Sohyun, perceptive as ever, gently squeezed my hand. “Hey,” she murmured, her thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Don’t look like that. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I earned every bit of your anger tonight.” Her smile was small but genuine, the kind that crinkled the corners of her eyes.

A quiet settled over us, thick but not uncomfortable. The distant pulse of music and laughter from the party felt worlds away. I exhaled slowly, my breath ruffling her bangs.

“Sohyun… this is a lot to process,” I admitted. “It’s not every day your—” I bit back tormentor just in time, “—the person who’s been on your case for months confesses they like you. But I will give you an answer. Just… give me some time?”

Her entire face lit up—eyes sparkling, lips parting in disbelief. The anxious tension in her shoulders melted away, leaving behind a hopeful, almost giddy energy I’d never seen from her before. In that moment, with her guard down and her heart in her eyes, I finally saw her. Really saw her.

“Yes! God, yes—take all the time you need!” She released me abruptly, as if remembering herself, and took two steps back. The sudden space between us felt charged, electric. Then, inexplicably, we both laughed—a soft, disbelieving sound that dissolved the last of the night’s bitterness.

“We should probably get back before Xinyu looks for us,” I said, nodding toward the crowded living room.

Sohyun grinned—a full, unrestrained smile that transformed her face—and fell into step beside me. But just before we reached the others, she caught my wrist and spun me toward her.

“Y/n,” she said, voice dropping to a whisper. “Can I kiss you again?”

My eyebrows shot up. This girl…

But the teasing retort died on my tongue when I saw her expression—hopeful but uncertain, as if bracing for rejection. So instead, I huffed a laugh and leaned in.

Her answering smile could’ve powered the entire city. Then her hands were in my hair, pulling me down, and her lips met mine—softer this time, sweeter, but no less electric. When we parted, she lingered close enough that our noses brushed.

“For luck,” she whispered, then darted off toward her friends, leaving me standing there, heart pounding, as the party’s noise rushed back in.

It has been a while since the party and Sohyun’s confession and it has been eating at my mind. I had never expected for Sohyun to actually like me and her previous actions towards me didn’t help at all, and now I can’t get her off my mind, the way her lips felt on mine, the softness she hasn’t shown me from the beginning, now lingers on my face and my skin. It’s like she is still holding me and being vulnerable again and I can’t do anything about it.

Now, the break is over and we’re back in school. Everyone who I met at the party became somewhat friendly and shared greetings when I made my way to the room assigned to me. When I got into the room, I was surprised to see Xinyu as a classmate this term, so I sat next to her and we talked about the vacation and the party. She then said something that caught me off guard. “So, I heard from the grapevine after the party that something happened between you and Sohyun. Mind expanding my knowledge about it?” My shoulders tensed, and when I looked at her, her eyes were showing curiosity, so I carefully asked questions as to what she knew.

“What have you heard about?” I carefully asked Xinyu.

“Well, someone told me that Sohyun kept pestering you and then you walked off somewhere, taking her with you. That’s all I know.” Xinyu replied.

I took a deep breath and contemplated if I should tell her everything that happened after the confrontation, but after some thinking and since we were still the only people in the room. I decided to tell her some things not all but from what I think would satisfy her.. From everything that I told Sohyun and the confession that she had liked me for quite a while, and the kiss that happened between us.

Xinyu started to squeal and hit my arms because of what she had just heard. She kept laughing and squealing and I can’t help but feel embarrassed. But then the door suddenly opened and a familiar voice called out to Xinyu. A voice I became quite fond of, Sohyun, who had walked in on the door.

“Hey guys! Oh hi Xinyu!” Sohyun voiced out and it seemed like she hadn't recognized me yet because I was facing Xinyu. But when I turned around, her shoulder tensed up and her face turned red as soon as she saw me.

“H-hi Y/n.” greeted Sohyun.

A big smile was on my face as soon as I saw her. Not moments later, Xinyu decided to tease the both of us

“Hey Sohyun! How’s your break? I heard it was quite eventful.” her smile sinister, while wiggling her eyebrows towards the both of us.

Sohyun turned even redder than she already is and it seemed like she had caught on quite quickly. She rushed towards me and she hit my arms but with less force than she used to do.

“YOU. TOLD. HER. WHAT. HAP—PENED?!!” her hits matching every syllable that came out of her. I laughed at her antics but caught her arms and held onto it. “Well, I figured that you’re her friend and it happened in her house, I thought she should know.” I told Sohyun while giving her a smile.

She put her bag on the back of the chair in front of her and sat down on the vacant seat next to me, pouting while crossing her arms, acting like she hated the both of us. Nothing much happened after that, it was just Xinyu’s continuous teasing until the class filled up with other students and the professor started her lecture. During the lecture, while I was taking notes, a hand suddenly reached for my free hand, I looked into it and it was Sohyun, sneakily trying and failing to hold my hand, so I instead reached for hers and held it discreetly. Hiding it for the meantime. I thought we were sneaky but when I was trying to fix my hair, I saw Xinyu, grinning from ear to ear, teasing us, but Sohyun and I just let it happen and continued on listening to our professor while our hands joined.

After the school day, Sohyun asked me to join her to walk to our dorms. I agreed and we both said goodbye to Xinyu as her chaperone was already waiting for her outside. While on the way to the dorms, I had thought about ‘updating’ our ‘relationship status’, but I guess that the thought was also occupying Sohyun’s mind because she had beat me to opening up the topic.

“You know Y/n, it’s been a while since we last had a conversation with just the two of us. The last one was at–”

“Xinyu’s party!”

“--Xinyu’s party.”

We both looked at each other and laughed at what just happened.

“So I was wondering–” she continued.

“--if you already had your answer?”

Silence had filled both of us as we continued to walk towards our dorms. She walked behind me the entire time, maybe in anticipation of my answer. I already had an answer, and I do like her as well. After she had been vulnerable with me, I immediately understood where the bullying came from. She hadn’t learned to express herself, and what she did was her way of communicating that she wanted people’s attention. Her past actions, though hurtful, now made sense—they were cries for connection, masked in defiance and aggression. It was as if a puzzle piece had clicked into place, revealing a picture of loneliness I hadn’t seen before.

When we finally got to the dorms, I walked her to her room, the quiet between us heavy with unspoken words. The moment I looked towards her, I could see that her eyes were filled with curiosity, anxiety, and love—emotions so raw and honest that they solidified the answer I had for her. My chest tightened with a mix of tenderness and resolve. I knew then that I wanted to be someone who could help her find better ways to be seen, to reassure her that she didn’t have to push people away to keep them close. The hallway light flickered above us, casting fleeting shadows, but the certainty in my heart remained steady.

“S-Sohyun?”

The name left my lips like a fragile breath, barely audible over the quiet hum of the evening. She turned, her dark eyes meeting mine—patient, curious, but with a flicker of something deeper. Anticipation? Fear?

“Hmm?”

I swallowed hard. The words had been circling my mind for days, clawing at my ribs, demanding release. Now, standing before her, they threatened to choke me.

“I… I have an answer for you.” My voice was steadier than I expected. “And it’s been living inside me for a while now.”

A beat of silence. The air between us grew heavy.

“At first,” I continued, watching her fingers twitch at her sides, “all I could think about was the past. The things you did. The hurt.”

Her breath hitched. The light in her eyes dimmed, like a candle flickering against the wind. She looked down, bracing herself.

“But then I realized something.” I stepped closer, my pulse roaring in my ears. “Maybe I don’t have to just remember the pain. Maybe… I can help you rewrite it.”

Her head snapped up. “W-What?”

“We can figure this out. Together.”

For a heartbeat, she didn’t move. Then—

A gasp. A tremble. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Instead, tears welled, spilling over in glistening streaks.

“You—you mean—?” Her voice was a shattered whisper.

I smiled, soft but sure. “Yeah. I like you too, Sohyun.”

A sob broke free. She crumpled forward, her forehead pressing against my chest as her body shook. Instinctively, my arms wrapped around her, holding her together as she fell apart. Her tears burned through my shirt, searing into my skin. And then—I felt it. The weight of her regret, her relief, her hope. It bled into me, and suddenly, my own vision blurred.

When she finally pulled back, her face was flushed, her lashes wet. But she was smiling. A real, trembling, radiant smile.

Then—

Her hands gripped my collar. She yanked me down.

Our lips crashed together, fierce and desperate. I froze—just for a second—before melting into her, kissing her back with all the words I couldn’t say.

When we broke apart, she was panting, her forehead resting against mine. “Thank you,” she whispered, voice raw. “I swear—I’ll be better. For you.”

The conviction in her words sent a shiver down my spine.

I chuckled, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “I know.”

She sniffled, then abruptly smacked my chest. “You—you made me cry, you idiot.”

I laughed, but before I could retort, she was dragging me toward her dorm, her grip ironclad.

“Wait, Sohyun—?”

She spun, her eyes blazing with playful defiance. “Did you really think I’d let you leave after that?” A smirk curled her lips. “Get in here, pretty boy.”

The door slammed behind us.

And just like that—the past was behind us. The future? Uncertain.

But her hand in mine?

That, I was sure of.

#triples #s14 #sohyun #sohyunfluff #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #sohyunxmalereader #triplesfanfic #triples sohyun

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theliving-radio · 29 days ago

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I know I haven’t posted in a while, still working on some things and trying to get life sorted out. I work a full time job in retail, which isn’t where I wanted to be in life so I’m trying to work things out.

Either way- I’ve been coming up with some things with Big brother Malleus, most of it just goofy shit.

So I hope you enjoy this small prompt:

Malleus didn’t know what to do with himself at this very moment. He came to pick you up after class so he can walk you to your next one, but unfortunately you weren’t here. So instead he was standing right in front of your desk…

Where a white envelope and a red heart sticker was placed carefully upon it.

The fae stood there in the empty classroom as he glared down at the paper, as if it insulted him.

Was this… a love letter?!

Was someone trying to court his baby sibling?!

Which heathen was trying to take away his baby sibling’s innocence?!

Without thinking, Malleus snatched the letter from your desk and ripped it open. He was hoping that maybe whoever left this horrendous piece of display wrote their name down.

So he would be able to hunt them like the animal they are.

Dear (Y/n),

I do apologize for leaving this letter for you to find, it must be quite a shock. But I can’t contain my feelings for you any longer. When I first saw met you, I didn’t think much about you. But as time progressed, you turned my world upside down and I know for a fact that I wouldn’t be able to turn it back around. You changed my views on certain things, and for that I am grateful. At first I believed this was just a small crush that will pass over time, but now I realized, I am in love with you. I love you, (Y/n). You don’t have to feel the same, but I felt like I needed to say it. For you to acknowledge it. I thank you for taking the time to read this letter, and I will see you around.

Love,-

“Horton?”

Without warning, or a second thought, Malleus shoved the letter into his mouth and quickly turns to face you.

Both of you just stand and stare at each other; all that was heard to fill the silence is the ticking sound from the classroom clock, and then the sound of Malleus gulping down the paper.

“… I’m going to ignore that.”

“Please do.”

Both of you went silent once again, and again, you broke it.

“Anyway… we took our class outside today. I came here because I figured you wanted to walk me to my next one.”

“Yes, I wanted to make sure you arrived to your next class safely...” Malleus moved his hand to cover his mouth, already feeling a small burp coming up but was lucky to cover it.

This was so unlike him, but he doesn’t know what to do in this situation!

Malleus, ever the kind big brother he was, took some of your school books and held them for you. “Shall we go then?” You nod and both of you make your way out of the classroom.

You weren’t going to bring up on why Malleus decided to eat paper, so you avoided that topic and began talking about the lessons you did on your field day. Though, the whole time you talked, Malleus was only partially paying attention…

He never got to read who the sender was… and that fact irked him.

So as he walked along side you, Malleus was planning to investigate on the matter. He needed to know which Gibface Bachelor is trying to swoon his sweet, innocent, darling Baby Sibling! He will not rest until he able to find them!

With a head filled of ideas of torture, and a belly filled with paper-

Malleus was ready to hunt.

————————

I’m hoping to maybe continue this idea later on in the future if you guys want more! At the moment I’m working on a Big Brother Malleus comic, along with finishing up an Ask that I got.

But I wanted to share this with everyone!

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #platonic relationships #twisted wonderland x reader #twst malleus #twst x reader #big brother malleus #x reader

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tobiosbbyghorl · 20 days ago

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minumulto | ksn

pairing: sunshine!sunoo x quiet!reader

genre: angst/ tiny like super tiny fluff

You weren’t the kind of girl people noticed.

You blended into the background. Always polite. Always quiet. Always present, but never loud enough to be remembered. You didn’t mind it, really. The world was exhausting when it demanded too much of you. You’d learned to be small to protect yourself. To be still so the chaos wouldn’t touch you.

Then there was Kim Sunoo.

He wasn’t loud in a disruptive way. He was radiant. The kind of boy who walked into a room and made it feel like the sun had followed him in. Everyone loved him. They always did. Because Sunoo knew how to make people feel like they mattered. And for reasons you couldn’t understand, he chose to make you feel that way too.

“Hey,” he greeted one morning, crouching beside your desk while you quietly unpacked your lunch.

You blinked, unsure he was talking to you. “…Hi?”

He grinned. “Is that spam? That’s, like, top-tier lunch.”

You hesitated. “Do you… want one?”

He gasped dramatically. “Can I? I’ll trade you for my grapes.”

You watched as he placed a small container beside yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. And somehow, from that day on, he never really left your side.

⸻

You didn’t fall for him instantly.

It was a slow, steady trickle. Like water dripping through cracks in the walls you spent years building. He didn’t force his way in. He just… waited outside.

He remembered the little things.

You love vegetables.

Your favorite seat by the window.

That you liked your water with ice.

That you flinched at loud laughter but smiled when he hummed soft songs.

And somehow, over time, your world bent toward him.

He walked you to the gate every day.

Texted you silly memes.

Let you hold his hands when you both cross the road, he knew you can’t cross on your own.

Let you copy his notes when you were too anxious to ask the teacher a question.

He made you laugh.

That scared you the most.

Because happiness, to you, had always come with a cost.

Letting people in meant giving them the power to leave. And you’d seen what happened when they did.

So when Sunoo told you—“I like you.”

You froze.

He said it gently, like he didn’t want to scare you. As if he knew you were already halfway out the door.

You smiled the way people do when they’re pretending. “You’re sweet.”

He tilted his head. “But?”

“I just… I don’t think I’m ready.”

His gaze faltered for a second, then softened. “That’s okay.”

And it was. For a while.

He stayed. Patient. Understanding. He didn’t push.

But how long could someone hold on to someone who kept stepping back?

Your rejections weren’t cruel.

They were quiet. Subtle. Wrapped in half-smiles and nervous laughter.

But to Sunoo, they still meant: you don’t want me.

He tried again—confessed a second time after your last high school recital.

“I think I still like you,” he said, voice barely above the hum of the crowd.

And you?

You looked down and whispered, “Please don’t.”

He didn’t ask again.

⸻

You didn’t notice the shift at first.

He still smiled at you in the halls. Still waved during breaks. Still lent you his umbrella when it rained.

But the warmth? The closeness?

It was fading.

Until one day, you walked into class, looked at the seat beside you, and realized it wasn’t his anymore.

He had moved on.

⸻

You thought time would bury him.

That the memories would blur like fog on glass.

But then college came.

New faces. New streets. New nights filled with the dull ache of loneliness.

And yet—Sunoo haunted you more than ever.

⸻

You saw him in your dreams, still calling your name.

You woke up with tears on your pillow, unable to breathe.

You passed by coffee shops and thought: he would’ve liked this place.

You held your phone so many times, fingers hovering over his contact name, but never pressing call.

“Minumulto na ‘ko ng damdamin ko.”

I’m haunted by my own feelings.

He was everywhere.

Even in the silence.

You remembered the way he once touched your wrist—soft, tentative.

The way he looked at you like you were made of glass and stardust.

And how gently he stepped back when you flinched, even when all he wanted was to stay.

You didn’t realize you loved him until he was gone.

And now?

Now, it’s too late.

⸻

You see him again—on campus.

He’s across the courtyard, surrounded by laughter.

He still shines.

But you don’t. Not anymore.

Your eyes meet for a second.

He smiles.

Polite. Distant.

You smile back.

But inside, you’re screaming.

Because you could’ve had the sun.

And you chose the shadows.

⸻

It starts with a song.

A voice playing faintly from someone’s speaker at the campus café.

“Ako ay dahan-dahang nililibing nang buhay pa…”

You freeze. Your coffee cools in your hands.

You haven’t heard it in months. But the lyrics hit you like they always do—sharp, familiar, merciless.

Sunoo once sang it quietly beside you, half-jokingly, not knowing the way it would become a prophecy. You had laughed back then. Not anymore.

You stand abruptly and leave. You don’t look behind you.

⸻

The next time you see him, it’s raining.

Not the romantic, movie kind of rain—just cold and inconvenient.

He’s sitting alone outside a lecture hall, drenched at the edges, tapping absently on his phone.

You hesitate. Then walk over.

“Forgot your umbrella?” you ask.

He looks up.

There’s a pause.

“Yeah,” he says finally, blinking in surprise. “Didn’t expect the rain.”

You nod and offer yours.

He stares at it, then at you. “You sure?”

You shrug. “You’ll return it.”

Something flickers in his eyes—maybe nostalgia. Maybe nothing.

“Alright,” he says softly. “Thanks.”

You sit beside him. Under the awning. No words.

Just silence.

But for the first time in a long time—it isn’t painful.

⸻

Days pass. Weeks.

You don’t talk often, but you begin seeing him again.

At the café. In the library. Once, at the train station.

There’s no grand reunion. No apologies spilling from lips. Just passing moments that brush like wind across skin—familiar and fleeting.

Then one evening, you find him on the rooftop garden where no one really goes.

You almost walk away—but he calls out.

“Stay,” he says.

So you do.

⸻

You talk. About nothing at first.

Weather. Professors. Terrible campus food.

And then, without meaning to, you say:

“I think I was afraid.”

Sunoo is quiet.

You can’t look at him.

“I didn’t know how to love someone who wanted to stay,” you add.

He exhales, a sound that’s not quite laughter.

“I did want to stay,” he says. “For a long time.”

You finally meet his eyes. There’s no resentment there—only honesty.

“I know,” you whisper. “I was stupid.”

“No,” he says. “You were scared. That’s not the same.”

⸻

You sit in silence again. This time, it’s heavier.

He leans back on his palms, looking at the sky.

“I used to dream about what we could’ve been,” he admits.

You close your eyes.

“Me too.”

“But… I think I stopped waiting,” he says gently. “And that’s okay, right?”

You nod.

Even though it stings.

Even though your heart is breaking all over again—quietly, gently, like glass beneath a blanket.

“It is,” you reply. “It has to be.”

⸻

As you leave that night, he walks you halfway down the stairs before pausing.

He hands you something.

Your umbrella. From before.

You smile. “You remembered.”

He smiles back. “I always did.”

And then he says it—soft, final.

“Take care, okay?”

You nod. “You too, Sunoo.”

⸻

That night, you cry.

Not because he’s gone.

But because you finally let him go.

⸻

He still lingers, sometimes.

In songs. In places. In dreams.

But not like a ghost anymore.

More like… a memory that once meant everything.

And that?

That’s enough.

Time, like most things, moves on—whether you want it to or not.

You see Sunoo less after that rooftop night. Maybe by chance. Maybe by design. But it’s no longer painful. Just… a quiet space in your chest where something once lived.

You keep walking

⸻

One afternoon, you spot him across the street.

He’s laughing. He’s with someone.

You don’t stare. You don’t wave.

But you smile.

Not because it doesn’t hurt anymore—some parts of you still ache when it rains or when a song reminds you of him.

But because the hurt doesn’t anchor you down now.

You’re learning to live around it.

⸻

Your life becomes filled with new things.

A new favorite coffee order.

A new bench under a tree you sit at between classes.

A new friend who makes you laugh unexpectedly in the middle of a bad day.

You never really forget Sunoo.

But you stop waiting for him, too.

And that makes all the difference.

⸻

Then one day — spring, maybe—you walk into the campus art exhibit alone.

A quiet corner. A sketch. A familiar name on the label.

“A boy who loved softly.”

By Kim Sunoo.

It’s not signed. Not really.

But it’s his handwriting. You’d know it anywhere.

The sketch is gentle. A figure sitting beneath a tree.

You don’t know if it’s you.

You don’t ask.

You simply stand there.

Breathing.

⸻

Outside, the sun is beginning to set.

You sit by the edge of the campus lawn, wind brushing your hair back. The grass is warm from the sun. The sky is dipped in rose and orange.

You close your eyes.

And for a moment, it’s all okay.

⸻

Somewhere, he’s living too.

Maybe loving again.

Maybe drawing someone else’s smile now.

And you?

You’re still quiet. Still careful.

But your heart doesn’t flinch like it used to.

Maybe, one day, you’ll love someone again.

Maybe not.

But for now, you let the wind wrap around you.

You let the past rest.

And when the breeze shifts, carrying the faint hum of a melody you once knew—

You don’t turn around.

You just let it go.

⸻

minumulto.

but only sometimes now.

And never enough to keep you from walking forward.

permanent taglist: @ijustwannareadstuff20 @hoonielvv @rjssierjrie @firstclassjaylee @morganaawriterr @rikifever @daisyintherainsposts @kkamismom12 @pocketzlocket @semi-wife

a/n: was supposedly for my besties eyes only bet she insists i post it^^

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alexrosa13 · 1 month ago

Text

Trashy Ex

Caleb x female!reader

Genre: fluff/angsty

Warnings: 1,4k words, mc!reader, teen!Caleb&reader, asshole ex-boyfriend

Note: had this idea to write ever since someone talked about it on discord server months ago and finally here it isss

for masterlist and request info head to the navigation →

The promise to tell each other about your dating life was made twice, what was the first one like?

The slam of the front doors made Caleb jump slightly in his place on the couch.

He was busy playing video games while waiting for you to come back home from classes, since you insisted he didn't wait an extra 2 hours just to walk back with you, as he finished early today.

But judging by the way you stormed down to your room, not even glancing his way while you ran through the living area where he sat, something happened during those 2 hours when he wasn't with you.

At first he thought you were mad, angry or something, but then he heard a sob right when you sprinted next to him.

"Pipsqueak?" immediately standing up he rushed after you, but before he had the chance to ask about anything you slammed the door into his face, locking it with a key right after.

Standing right before your room he knocked rapidly, worried.

"What happened? Are you alright? Are you hurt?" he heard how you carelessly dropped your bag to the floor before jumping into the bed, next second he heard the way you broke down fully crying.

He knocked once more, with a little more force this time. He said your name loudly, worried sick.

"Open the door. You know I can do it with my evol, so be a good pipsqueak and don't make me use force." he stopped knocking, putting his hands on the door next to his head, as he put his ear flat to the surface, listening to the movement inside.

"Leave me alone!" you screamed, before another muffled cries left you, you were probably face first into your pillow.

"I'm worried. I'm not going inside but I'll wait before that door for hours if I have to, until you'll let me in yourself, I want to know if you're alright." he said, not planning on leaving you alone.

"Caleb please just leave me. I'm fine!" you tried to reason with him.

"Na-ah, not happening." he said firmly before turning with his back to the door, sliding down the wooden surface until he sat on the floor, ready to wait up there like a boy scout on duty.

"Caleb please..." you cried out, weaker than before, sounding like a kicked puppy.

His heart throbbed in pain hearing the hurt in your voice.

"I'll stay right here princess, just let me in whenever you're ready." he said gently, his eyes wandering to the corridor's ceiling.

He heard how your sobs got more quiet. Earlier you sounded frustrated, mad at someone, like you had enough, but now? You sounded broken, like you didn't have the strength to even cry anymore.

Maybe 5 minutes passed before he heard quiet steps coming from your room.

You didn't say anything, simply unlocking the door, but you didn't open them. He heard how instantly you moved back to your bed.

Knowing fully well your intentions without you saying anything he moved up instantly, gently turning the doorknob and entering your space.

He saw you sitting curled up on the bed, you were hugging your knees tightly to your torso with your head hidden in them.

Slowly he walked over to you, moving to sit on the bed next to you, not daring to touch you.

"What's wrong? You can tell me." he said in a gentle tone, reserved only for you. Instantly you shook slightly, sniffling your nose from all the crying.

Before you gave him a verbal answer you moved to lean on him. Without hesitation his arm came up to embrace you, bringing you closer to his side, allowing you to lay your head on his torso.

"He broke up with me..." you whispered, sobbing again.

"What?"

"Broke up... With me..." your whole body shook while you hugged yourself closer to him.

"You had a boyfriend?" and didn't tell me..?

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you mad." you cried louder into his shirt.

"I'm not mad, just... Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, trying not to show his disappointment. His jealousy...

"I... I don't know... I just didn't want to bring it up." you tried to explain, but honestly you didn't know the answer yourself, every time you tried to tell Caleb about your relationship you couldn't get words to leave through your throat, knowing fully well that in reality you didn't even want that boyfriend, simply accepting to date him cause he showed some effort, and you wanted to see why relationships are so hyped.

"Pips... Please tell me next time when you'll get someone, okay?" you nodded your head "Pinky promise?" he raised the hand that wasn't currently holding you, showing you his pinky.

"But you'll tell me to." your shaking hand met his, fingers wrapping around each other.

"Deal." you smiled at him through tears, and in this very moment he felt butterflies having a party in his stomach.

You didn't even notice the moment you stopped crying, too busy snuggling up to Caleb, forgetting why you were having a breakdown in the first place.

But he didn't.

At some point you got so comfy you almost fell asleep, not caring anymore about a guy from before. But then, making sure you were completely calm, Caleb decided to finally ask.

"So... Who was this lucky guy?" you let out a quiet hm opening up your eyes.

"Just... A random guy from the class." you answered like it's nothing, because honestly; none other guy mattered when the only one you truly wanted was out of reach...

"How long did you date him?" he almost wanted to throw up at the word 'date'.

"A month or so, it didn't really feel like dating tho." you muttered out.

"So why were you crying over him?" he asked, gently playing with your hair.

He heard the sharp inhale you took, almost regretting asking, not wanting to see you cry anymore over some asshole.

"He probably was with me just to impress his friends, he also broke up with me right in front of them, an idiot with a too big of an ego." you scoffed, still cuddled up to your friend.

Now Caleb was pissed. What the fuck do you mean 'just to impress' his friends?

"Name." he stated, knowing fully well you could hear the anger in his voice.

"Caleb-"

"Name. Unless you want me to find out through your friends." you exhaled. Of course he had to pull out the protective card.

"Casper." you knew he would dare to go and ask around for him. If you tell him right away though there's a less chance of him getting into trouble in case he'll beat him up.

"See, you can be a good pipsqueak if you want to." he kissed the top of your head, unintentionally making you blush.

God this boy will be the end of you... How could you look at other guys when he was the one making you feel things?

It was so wrong.

✩ bonus ✩

Caleb got to know about the guy you dated yesterday.

Now you were at school, already the third lesson of the day ended, and still nothing happened.

You were getting suspicious, Caleb wasn't the one to wait, he was the one to act, especially in a situation like this.

You were walking through the resting area of your school where most teens gathered on the breaks, looking for your friends.

But before you could notice them something else caught your attention.

You saw Caleb with his friend group chilling on the sofas, as seniors they were kind of untouchable in school, everyone avoiding them as not to make a fool out of themselves.

And then your gaze wandered to the other side of the area, your ex standing and laughing with his buddies about something, scaring every younger student passing them... Why the hell did you date that?

Your gaze returned to Caleb once again, he met your eyes and smirked.

Oh no.

Subtly pointing his finger in your ex's direction he directed your attention back to the lousy group.

Then you saw it, your ex tripping on air, falling head straight into the bin next to him.

You covered your mouth while giggling, the next second you heard sounds of laughter from all around you, everyone looking in the direction of the boy who somehow couldn't get out of the bin.

Your gaze returned to Caleb.

He sent you a knowing wink, succeeding in making you laugh louder.

You mouthed a quiet thank you his way, before finally turning into the direction where you spotted your friend group, who currently got very busy with taking pictures of the accident.

Well we all know that most exes are trash, but yours? Damn he took that one literally.

taglist @pozuki @animegamerfox

If you liked this fic then I guarantee you are also going to like: Thank You & Happy Accident <3

#caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb x mc #caleb x y/n #caleb fluff #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fluff #caleb #caleb love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #lnds

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cillians-sweetheart · 3 months ago

Note

Hihihi could you please Write for Jim from tds?

Ofc he’s so daddy 😋

Maid For Pleasure - Jim TDS

Jim Murphy(38) x Cleaner!Reader(18)

Plot: Y/N becomes desperate for a job while in school and comes across a house cleaning gig that ends up suiting her, and her employers needs quite well.

Content: age-gap, smut, dubcon, pervy Jim, dirty talk (m), dominant Jim, slight degradation, spanking, adultery (m), cvm trapping, porno type plot

(Because we don't know Jim's last name in The Delinquent Season, we're just gonna say his last name is Murphy in this scenario.)

Being a broke, College student -freshly 18- I was in desperate need of a simple job I could do after school to be able to afford my basic needs. I would search every day at the part-time jobs listed in my area, but all required too many hours that I didn’t have. It wasn’t just my school hours it cut into, but studying hours I urgently needed to pass.

I was already doing well in school because most of my time was spent studying and spending extra hours in class unlike everyone else who had jobs to attend to. I had a choice, either get some money so I can feed myself, or be the greatest student in all my classes. That second choice was for sure tempting but probably not the right choice in the end. I’m not someone who’s overly comfortable with asking for money. I’d rather starve.

After several, continuous hours scrolling through the internet in my dorm room bed, my eyes catch a listing for a “Part-time house cleaning - paying $20/hour.” It was perfect. Easy, and well paying. I instantly clicked the link and read further. “Available during mornings and noon between 9:00am - 1:00pm.” I could easily go during my lunch break and free period around 11am. So I clicked apply.

It wasn’t until the next morning I had seen an email from Jim Murphy accepting my application. I was pleased to see I could start today at 10am. Quickly I got up and out of bed, got ready in a comfy, but cool outfit that I wouldn’t mind dirtying while slaving my way through this man’s house. I didn’t doll up fully, but made myself presentable enough to hopefully keep this job until I can find something more ideal.

I waited around my dorm until the time came for me to leave. When I did I was emailed an address on one of the middle class streets. Definitely someone who could afford a maid.

I pulled up to the house with my hair pulled back in a messy bun, my makeup light and my clothes tight but comfortable. After taking a few -several- deep breaths I got out and knocked on the front door. A slim man with a kind face opened the door to me and introduced himself as, “Jim.”

“Y/N.” I grinned in return to him. His eyes slowly gazed from up and down my face and figure. As if he wasn’t expecting his cleaner to be someone like me.

“Please come in Y/N. Apologies for the clutter. Children.” He chuckled, with an almost flirtatious grin.

“No worries,” I smiled. “This is my job.”

Jim went back to continue his work in the kitchen on his laptop, quickly typing and occasionally sipping tea for a mug. His dark brown glasses laid comfortably on the bridge of his small nose, and his legs slightly spread beneath the table.

I purposely cleaned every other room first before I made my way to the kitchen because if I’m being honest I didn’t expect I’d feel almost flustered around him. And because of that I avoided him to not embarrass myself. I knew he was married and I’d respect that, but I couldn’t help finding him handsome. He was and I couldn't control that. I’d manipulate myself into believing my attraction towards him was purely his fault to hide from the shame.

Finally the time came where I had absolutely nothing else to do in any other room in the house. Not even a speck of fuzz on the carpet. I kept my head down coming into the kitchen, reframing from any and all eye contact. I wiped the counters, vacuumed the floor, dusted and lastly scrubbed every surface from the floor to the cabinets.

I felt while on my knees scrubbing around the edges of the furniture, eyes on me. But each time I’d peer between my legs, Jims eyes were glued to his computer screen. I made out that I was probably just paranoid, and jittery with that need for affection.

But I wasn’t. Really every time I’d refocus myself to cleaning, Jim’s eye would glance from the screen to between my legs. In his mind, he imagined the feeling of my plump ass in his hands and the feeling of it rubbing against his lap. The thought alone made him painfully hard. His aching bulge pressed tightly against his jeans. And of course, my skin tight leggings fit perfectly around the shape of my pussy. The sight was so clear and perfect.

Being on my hands and knees scrubbing at the floor, Jim couldn’t look away as my hips, and ass moved in sync with the motion of my arm. Each scrub they jiggled and began providing an easier view as I bent my chest lower, and lower to the tile floor.

Jim grabbed at his bulge in his pants and had stopped worrying if I caught him staring. He was far too deep into the fantasy of ruining my little body to care. He swore under his breath and his hand tightened around his pulsing cock under his jeans. While I on the other hand hadn’t had a clue what was going on behind me.

Suddenly Jim stood from his chair and came up behind me. “I think you missed a spot… on the counter.” He stated with a tone I couldn’t identify.

“Sorry sir,” I quickly stood to my feet, still not looking him in the eye. “I’ll clean it.” I quickly, with my rag, walked to the granite countertop and began to scrub the surface. I could hear, and feel Jim slowly moving closer to me from behind.

“That’s good…” He purred, coming close behind me, his hips and boner rubbing against my butt. “Just like that.”

I froze. Jim’s hands laid onto my hips and his hard cock pressed against my pussy through my leggings.

“Don’t stop, just pretend I’m not here love” he leaned down with his hot breath on my neck. I continued to slowly stroke the counter with my damp rag. I felt panicked, and uneasy. But the feeling of him rubbing against my clit made me unbelievably wet.

“Mr Murphy…?” I whimpered, gripping the counter.

“Mhm?”

“What are you doing?” I asked with my voice shaky and unsure.

“You wouldn’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve touched such a young, beautiful body,” he whispered to me. “I need this. I need to touch you.” Completely avoiding my question.

My skin felt hot and my cheeks went red at his words. And suddenly his big rough hands tugged at my leggings, pulling them down my plump ass. I wanted to say something but all that came out was a muffled whine.

Jim quickly undid his belt from behind me. The sound made my whole body freeze in place.

“You want this baby?” His voice was low and lustful as he stroked his now bare cock against my clothed clit.

I squirmed in return to him, “mhm..” I moaned.

“Yeah?” His hand gripped firmly to my plushy hip. “Is that why you wanted this job? To be fucked like a little maid?”

I was speechless. By his sudden dominance and the power he held on me, and the way I’d do whatever he told me scared me.

Jim, with one easy movement, ripped my little pink panties down my legs. I felt the cool breezy on my wet bare skin, and then his hot tip brushing between my slits. From behind me I could hear him groan at the sight. “Such a pretty little pussy,” He squeezed my soft thighs and spread them to look closely at my needy hole. “Good girl…”

Without a warning Jim began to push his throbbing cock into me. The deeper he went, the more he groaned, “mm, oh you’re so tight…” His hips pressed against my butt.

I could feel his thick cock stretching my wet walls, and hitting deep in my cervix. I gripped the countertop and my eyes rolled up while he began to slowly thrust himself into me. “Oh that’s good…” He moaned and his speed, and force grew pleasurably hard. My little body being fucked senselessly against his countertop, legs shaking and moaning far too loudly for my liking. I tried to bite my lip holding my sounds back, but each time I did Jim would slap my ass forcing me to whimper and moan at his command.

The sweet sound of moans, and wet skin slapping filled the room. My pleasure made me almost scream as he forcefully beat me with his cock. And the way he’d slap my ass made my pussy drip and tighten around him.

“Fuck…” He squeezed my ass pounding me forcefully, “You feel so much better than my wife… god you're just so sexy.” He groaned with an assertive tone. “You like that? You want my cock?”

“Mhm” I moaned with my eyes rolling into my head. I felt so close with the force of him hitting every good spot. I squeezed against him trying to hold back, but the pulsing and wetness caught his attention.

“Cum for me.” He demanded and landed a hard slap on my ass. “Cum on my cock.”

With the way his voice sounded, my legs shook and my pussy fluttered and pulsed against his cock. My sweet fluids dripped down my leg and soaked his length. I moaned so loudly he finally held his hand over my mouth muffling my orgasm.

I stood there barely able to keep myself up while he finished beating my insides. I couldn’t stay quiet as I continuously came until he pulled out. And when he did he stroked his cock eagerly, his cum spitting all over my clit and aching hole. It was hot, and thick. And before I could do anything he yanked my panties up, trapping his hot cum on my pussy.

I felt sticky and sensitive, and Jim quickly lifted his pants. He grabbed me and pulled my back against his chest. “You’re such a good girl,” he purred. “I want you back here next week. And I’ll show you something that’ll need cleaning.”

I left his house and he paid me $200 cash. I felt like a prostitute in a way, but also real happy that I could finally take myself out to dinner and have something to look back to when I’d get into bed tonight.

#cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian fanfic #cillian fic #cillian murphy fanfiction #Jim tds #Jim x reader #the delinquent season #jim the delinquent season

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cirruslush · 1 month ago

Text

「fake rumours」

PART 1 ꩜

an enemies to lovers type of story

hamzahthefantastic x reader

mentions: ANGST, gentle choking , making out, pinning, no smut

The worst thing about Hamzah wasn’t the fact that he was infuriatingly perfect. It wasn’t the way he always seemed one step ahead, or how his stupid cocky smirk could make my blood boil in seconds. It wasn’t even the fact that, he always managed to look effortlessly cool while I was struggling to keep my temper in check.

No. The worst thing about him was that, somehow, he’d always be able to easily find his way back in my head, as if it was the road to home that you blindly know about.

Me and Hamzah have been friends for quite some time now, considering our parents were friends even before we were born.

His mom adored me as if I were her own, and would always call me over for dinner, or just to study n hangout with Hamzah since we had a lot of classes in common.

Senior year, finally. One of the most stressful and overwhelming grades for many, but also one of the most exciting as well.

On one hand, it’s your last year of high school, which means making memories with friends, and the anticipation of what’s next. There’s a sense of freedom, like you’re standing on the edge of something bigger. But at the same time, it can feel like a lot of pressure—college applications, final exams, and the weight of what comes after.

Fortunately for you, school and life have been “caressing” you almost, but it’s only March, and you didn’t want to jinx anything

The multi-day senior trip is coming up soon and your heart was beating out of your chest, preparing your clothes days before the trip and planning what to do with your friends at night was like preparing for your first summer vacation.

You and your friends had been counting down the days for what felt like forever—talking about who was rooming with who, which places you were going to visit, and, of course, the late-night shit you all were determined to pull off. This trip felt like a rite of passage, a celebration of everything you’d gone through together—years of awkward moments, shared laughs, inside jokes, and even the occasional fighting. But now, it was all coming to an end.

The reality of graduation creeping up was starting to feel more tangible, more real. You caught yourself staring out the window, wondering how it all passed so quickly. Wasn’t it just yesterday you were entering high school, full of nervous energy? Now, you were at the finish line, ready to take the plunge into adulthood.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your thoughts. It was a call from Hamzah. You hesitated for a moment before answering, his name lighting up the screen bringing a familiar comfort with it.

“Hey, what’s up?” you answered, trying to keep your tone casual, though you could hear your own excitement slipping through.

“Have you done packing up yet?” Hamzah’s voice came through, upbeat and teasing.

“Almost,” you replied, glancing at the half-packed suitcase on your bed. “Just getting the last few things together. You?”

“I’m done, finally.” He signed loudly, and you could practically picture him lounging on his bed, phone in hand, his usual laid-back tone in full effect.

“I’m glad. Would you like my mom to drive us to school tomorrow instead?” you said jumping out of your seat, going to the bathroom, to grab your toothbrush “If your mom’s okay with it, always.”

“Sure why not, I’ll text you in a bit.” he replied, and before you knew it, he had already hung up.

Hamzah’s been kinda weird lately. He keeps teasing you in someway, yet being more distant by the days. You thought maybe it was some type of romantic disappointment, or something had happened at home, but you didn’t want to stress him even more by asking, right before the trip at that.

*bzz* the phone buzzed once again, it was a message this time, by your girl best friend. You quickly jumped on your bed, unlocking it

ANNA

hello beautiful sunshine 💕 Actually i’ve been meaning to talk to you about something, but i couldn’t gather the courage to tell you in person. I think Hamzah’s been talking behind your back…I happen to have overheard a conversation he had today, at school with one of his friends, and he said something about you being too immature to him, and that he was planning on cutting u off. Sorry for not telling u earlier girl, did u 2 fight?

The thought twisted something deep in her chest. Hamzah? Your best friend since childhood? He would never, right? Nothing had real happened between you—at least that you remember of, but Anna had said it so casually, and now, it made sense why Hamzah had been distant the past few days.

It was finally the next morning. You really didn’t get any sleep—thinking about Anna’s text over and over again. You were so filled with rage.

Is he foreal? Why would he even call you last night if it he was planning to cut you off anyway..you quickly got inside the car, driving with your mom over to Hamzah’s place.

Once you picked him up, you didn’t even dare to look at him in the eye. No words were said by you, only your mom talking with Hamzah. Though, Hamzah was quick to notice “everything alright? Are you feeling sick or nervous because of the trip?” he asked, looking genuinely worried. How pathetic. you thought to yourself, was he fucking with you or playing with your feelings just before cutting you off—like a cat playing with a mouse before killing it? yeah sure, Fuck him. “No, i’m totally fine.” you outed sassily, with a mocking face for a second.

Hamzah decided not to talk back, thinking it was that time of the month for you, not wanting to argue first thing in the morning.

On the trip, you kept your distance from him, avoiding his gaze, and sitting with Anna and the others at meals. Hamzah tried talking to you, but every. single. time. you shut him down, quickly, turning your body and attention away. The quiet hurt in his eyes made your stomach twist, but you couldn’t shake the words Anna had said.

The days went by, and both of you didn’t speak a word. Not talking to Hamzah for more than a day, was actually very unfamiliar with you. All these years you’d be all over each other, even if you argued one of you would always make a move to apologise soon enough- but this wasn’t the case. You were being selfish, not backing out or falling for any traps after hearing what your best friend Anna had to tell you. After all, why would your best friend lie about something like that? It didn’t seem like she had something against him anyway.

So you want war? You’ll get it.

The rest of the year passed and Hamzah eventually stopped trying to talk to you. You didn’t care, or so you acted like that. It was nice having him cling onto you for a bit, but as soon as that stopped, he straight up became an asshole. He had a nasty, disgusted face everytime you’d cross paths and sometimes even tried tripping you or fell onto you by accident. Did he really hate you that much in the end? He broke you, really..

3 Years passed by, like days—calm like the river flow

The bass of the music thumped in your chest as you stumbled your way through the club, laughter and chatter blending into the rhythm. You’d had a bit to drink, enough to let loose, but not enough to completely lose yourself. You needed a break from the noise, so you made your way to the bathroom.

The moment you pushed the door open, the cool air hit your face, and you took a deep breath. You leaned against the sink, your reflection staring back at you—a slightly tipsy version of yourself, but still, you were fine. Just needed a minute.

You were trying to focus on getting yourself together when the door creaked open behind you. The sound of footsteps made you glance up, and then—him.

Hamzah

Your breath got caught in your throat. Of all places. Of all the nights. Why here? Was your luck really fucking testing you right now?

There he was, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, looking exactly the same as you remembered. His dark defined curls, his eyes still that deep shade of brown, that you once used to stare at and get lost in. Your pulse sped up, and your stomach twisted into knots, the alcohol in your system only amplifying everything.

He paused when he saw you, his expression unreadable, but you could feel the tension building in the small, dimly lit space between you. Neither of you spoke for a moment.

“You’re here..? What are you doing here?” You said your voice a little slurred, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “Didn’t expect to see you in the ladies’ room.”

He laughed softly, the sound almost making you forget how you ended your whole friendship over a stupid girl. Almost. “Guess we’re both full of surprises,” he said, eyes flickering to the door as if he was about to leave.

But he didn’t move.

You took a small step back, feeling the weight of the situation sink in. Why was he just standing there? Why wasn’t he leaving?

“I’m, uh, i’ll see myself out then” you said, trying to walk past him, but he stepped forward, blocking your way.

“Actually, im glad i met you here.” he said, towering over you “Now that you have nowhere to go, don’t ya think you can give me a clear explanation.”

oh fuck me. That’s crazy..You thought to yourself.

Now that you were getting a closer look—He definitely got taller, his arms and face looked way more defined than before as well.. and his voice—that high pitched voice that you were used to, sounds a lot more manly now and definitely deeper too..Has he been smoking? Wait-no no NO. None of these mattered right now. You have a problem here and now, and unfortunately none of your friends to get you out of it this time.

“Well~ what are you talking about, im kinda dizzy to be honest.. think we can talk about this laterz maybe?” you giggled a lil bit, trying to act a bit more drunk, maybe you thought to yourself, maybe, he’d let you off the hook.

“I don’t see a reason to talk outside, pretty.”

The club was still loud outside, people shouting and laughing “and who knows, you just might try and run away again.”

Inside the bathroom, it felt like the world had gone silent. Just you and him, stuck in a moment neither of you had fully let go of.

You didn’t know how to respond. Your mind was foggy, you just stared into his dark coloured eyes.

Has he always been that hot or was it the alcohol smacking you right in the face right now? This is ridiculous. Why would you think like that about your childhood friend. Wait no it’s not me though, it’s definitely the alcohol, can’t be…Great, am i talking to myself now?

Out of nowhere—you got hit with the coldness of the tiles on the wall. Hamzah had pinned you down to the wall. You swallowed hard, your breath starting to get uneven as you try to quiet down your heart with it.

“are you communicating? Im talking to you this whole time, and you just, chose to ignore me again.” he said teasingly, pointing out the past.

Hamzah smirked, his gaze not leaving yours. There was a tense silence between you two, the kind that hung in the air, thick and unresolved. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t.

He took a step closer, closing the remaining space in between us, his presence overwhelming. “I’ve been thinking about you, y/n, A lot.”

Your heart pounded almost out of your chest. The alcohol coursing through your veins was blurring the lines between what was real and what you wanted. You should pull away, tell him to leave. But your body was betraying you, your mind too clouded to make the rational choice.

if you were to say you didn’t think of him everyday ever since you graduated either, then, you’d definitely be lying…But that’s another thing.

“Actually, you know what. No. You don’t get to talk to me like this—as if you really miss me, after being such an asshole to me in highschool.” his hand, with sudden, fast-yet gentle emotions, now wrapping your neck. Not squishing tight, only enough to show how mad he was.

Slowly, he brought his mouth to your ear “Me? Being the asshole? Right, as if I ignored you for no reason, first.” he said, softly.

Hamzah’s gaze fierce as a knife, he eyed you up and down, like a a snake observing it’s prey. And before you knew it, his lips were on yours, urgent and hungry. The kiss was passionate and rough. His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to sink into him, to forget all the hurt and confusion.

You kissed him back, letting the heat build, drowning in the way he made you feel—alive, wanted, and reckless all at once. His hands moved to your hips, pressing you against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, and you let him, letting the past, and the bitterness fall away with every passing second.

The door behind you creaked slightly, but you didn’t care. The club, the noise, the people outside—it all seemed so far away. There was only him. Only the way his lips and tongue moved with yours, the way his hands held you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Are you sure about this?” he breathed against your lips, his voice thick with desire. He was holding back.

How did you end up like this? Were those feelings just, pend up anger? None of it mattered, you just wanted to feel the heat of the moment

You pulled him closer, your hands sliding into his curls, needing him, needing this, even if you didn’t quite understand why. “Yeah..” you whispered, the word falling out before you could stop it. You needed him to hear it. You needed him to know.

to be continued

────୨ৎ────

✎ a/n first time writing kinda nervous.. I think this may be kinda boring at first since i was yapping a lot. The original story was like 2 times this one but i had to rewrite it eventually 😭 there also may be some spelling errors or just some shit that don’t make sense but please bear with me since english is not my first language

#hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader #hamzah fic #martin and hamzah #hamzahsmut #hamzah x y/n #smut #enemies to lovers #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #hamzah angst #hamzah imagines #slushy noobz #slushie #slushy virus

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hanglimi · 10 months ago

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opposite - yu jimin

jimin is sick and tired of the stupid, good for nothing student who keeps throwing parties in the dorm room above hers. but woah, she's the complete opposite of what jimin imagined, and really hot too.

TAGS - jimin x f! reader, fluff, college au

WORDCOUNT - 2100~

WARNINGS - substance use, swearing, suggestiveness,

A/N - this is really dialogue heavy, and i can't tell if that's a bad or good thing.

“oh my god, does this ever fucking stop?” ningning whined as she sat atop jimin’s bed, her feet crossed over each other, laptop thrown onto one of the multiple pillows.

jimin threw her friend a questioning look over her shoulder. the girl was acting crazy, and she had no time to engage if she wanted to finish the paper her professor had given her weeks before. the longer she left ning alone, the better chance of there being no continuation to the conversation.

“seriously, jimin! this is driving me insane.”

“what the hell do you mean, ning,” she groaned, laying her head down on her table.

“the dorm above you! i can genuinely feel the ceiling shaking with how loud the music is, and it’s been like this everyday this week!” ningning was practically hyperventilating at this point, and sure, while jimin thought she was being a tad bit dramatic, she also had a point.

but unfortunately, jimin had gotten so used to the girl above her, and her endless parties, that she barely noticed it anymore.

“here.” she reached down into her backpack by the base of her desk, grasping around in the pockets for what she was looking for. she finally felt it’s wire as she pulled it out of the bag and threw it over to her friend, glancing back down at her respective laptop.

“earbuds? really?”

jimin ignored her question, getting back to work. If she wanted to pass this class before the end of the semester, she had no time to idly chat with her friend, no matter how much she loved her.

“jimin!” ningning screamed again a couple seconds later, her head in her hands. “how the fuck do you live with this?” she curled into herself on the bed, as if that would help with the walls literally bouncing with each bass hit from upstairs.

“remind me to never come to your dorm again. from now on, we're studying in the library,”

jimin simply giggled at the comment, tuning out the bass boosted audio and her best friend’s whining.

“damn, jimin!” aeri said, snatching the girl’s phone from her, pausing her music so she could hear what was happening, “how loud do you need your music to be to actually hear it?”

jimin gave her a sneer, and reached back for her phone, but it was just so far across the table, and minjeong was faster than her, grabbing it, and pocketing it. aeri chuckled at her struggles before slapping a hand over her mouth, slowly turning her head towards the front of the library, hoping she wouldn’t get a third warning from the librarian just today.

“her eardrums are probably nonexistent because of the bitch above her,” ning noted as she scrolled on her phone, obviously distracted from what they actually came here for.

“you’re still on about that?” jimin drawled, dropping her head and leaning down in her seat, giving up on trying to retrieve her device. “and was i the only one still on task? it’s literally only been thirty minutes, guys.”

“on about what?” minjeong asked, leaning into the gossip, “who lives above jimin?”

“dude, if i knew what her name was i'd tell you.” ningning sat up, getting ready to entertain her. “all i know is that she throws a party like every other day, and plays overly obnoxious bass boosted music. and the RA of their floor just doesn't care.”

“jimin’s on the fourth floor, right?”

jimin nodded at aeri’s question. she just wanted to finish the discussion, and get back to studying, but her friends obviously felt otherwise.

“oh my god, jimin, i fucking know who that is! it’s that y/n chick,” aeri said, laughing, but her eyes widened as she heard the loud shush of the librarian.

“as i was saying, everyone on the fifth floor despises y/n, like genuinely hates,” she said.

jimin groaned as the three of them continued to talk about every single rumour y/n was involved in, and she pressed at her eyes with the palms of her hands until she started seeing dots.

“i’m literally the one who lives below her, and i don’t care this much,” jimin complained, adjusting her body so she was sat in the chair properly. “unlike you guys, i actually have things to do, so give me back my phone, minjeong”

they all groaned at her words, minjeong muttering as she handed the device to the girl’s outreached hand.

“you’re such a buzzkill, jimin,” aeri let out a sigh, shaking her head.

“yeah, fucking buzz killer,” ning followed up.

“buzz kill~.” minjeong sang, giggling a bit with the other two girls at the end.

“shut up!”

the librarian near the main entrance lowered her glasses down her nose at the outburst, glaring at their table. “you four girls over there! out!”

jimin made sure to flip her friends off as she snatched her things away from the table, walking back to her dreaded dorm, with a huge headache caused from the three.

it was never this bad.

like sure, jimin would often notice how loud y/n’s music was, but she never really got this mad about it. it was only a passing thought usually, but today, she couldn’t ignore it. and somehow, her body betrayed her, leading jimin out of her dorm, into the elevator, and facing the perpetrators door.

she knocked once, letting precious seconds pass as she stood in front of the dorm room, tapping her foot against the floor, slipping into the beat of the drums that was in the song playing from inside the room. no one answered, even though she could tell from the yelling that there were at least ten people in there. she let out a deep exhale through her nose, and raised her fist to knock, hitting the door again.

jimin waited there a little bit longer, still tapping her foot to the song as her mind wandered to how she would deal with the infamous y/n. she waited for what she thought was eternity before she got impatient, and raised her fist to knock again, but before she could make contact, the door swung open.

“who are you?” the girl who opened the door asked, while jimin strained to hear her over her overbearing chewing of gum. the stench of liquor infiltrated her nose from the open door, and there was a light fog covering the room, hazing up her vision of any furniture in the dorm. the loud music was piercing her brain now, closer than ever, and it was making her headache stronger.

“is y/n here?” she asked in response, but the girl only stared blankly at her, continuing to chew. jimin’s jaw clenched at the lack of reaction, but assumed y/n's friend couldn’t hear her over the music.

“is y/n here!” she repeated much louder, leaning closer to the girl’s ear, but the girl shoved her backwards immediately, and sneered at her.

“i’m not deaf yet, bitch. i was just trying to figure out if you were one of her exes,” the girl scolded, leaning an arm on the doorframe and turning her body to face the inside of the dorm.

“y/n! did you invite one of your flings to our party again?” the girl screamed into the fog while jimin scowled at the back of her head. apparently, y/n responded, because she turned back around to face her after a couple of seconds. “y/n will be here in a few,” and she shut the door.

jimin already hated the girl, and she didn’t even know her name.

the door reopened after a few moments to who jimin assumed was y/n, and her heart leapt out of her chest at the sight. the girl was the complete opposite of how jimin thought she would appear, and she couldn’t believe she fell for what aeri had said before. the clothes she wore leaned to the pink, feminine side–her tank top a cute combination of red, pink and yellow–and she wore a pearl necklace to accompany the soft vibe. the look was coupled with a pink cardigan over top, which was falling down to reveal one of her shoulders.

jimin was definitely gawking at her too long, because the girl cleared her throat in annoyance.

“what do you need?” the girl’s voice was also the complete opposite of her look, siding more with what jimin had thought y/n would be like originally. the deep, rough tones of it scratched her brain in a way she never imagined before, and she almost melted right there on the spot.

“oh yeah! i’m so sorry about that. my name is jimin, and i live on the floor below you, right under your room, which is actually pretty cool, huh.” jimin stuttered through her introduction, her face heating up at the intense staring contest y/n had her locked in.

she quickly averted her eyes, wanting to look anywhere else but the student's face, “anyways, it usually hasn’t been a problem but-”

the girl cut her off, rolling her eyes at the long winded explanation. “i get it, you want us to lower the volume of the music, right?” she drawled, and her tone grated against the headache jimin had, further enhancing it.

jimin nodded her head rapidly.

“well we can’t.” y/n started, lifting her hand up to take a look at her nails which were–once again a contrast to her voice–painted a mix of pink and yellow. “not that we can’t, just that we won’t.”

jimin cocked her head in confusion, “you… won’t?”

y/n stood there, still observing her fingers, “you heard me the first time, cutie,”

even though she was slightly infuriated, she felt her heart jump at the pet name, and warmth rushed up to her cheeks once again, but she quickly shook away the feeling, steeling her face in anger.

“what do you mean by ‘you won’t’” jimin said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“exactly what it means, babe. we’re having fun, and if it’s really bothering you that much, you can leave the complex for a couple hours.” y/n finally looked away from her nails to stare up at jimin, giving her a smile, as if she was trying to soften the words.

“uh, no the fuck not.”

the girl’s eyes flashed with something jimin couldn't recognise, and y/n stood up straighter, a smirk playing on her lips at the words.

“so you stand your ground, huh?” y/n noted aloud, eyeing jimin from head to toe. “how about you come in here, and we can party together?”

“fuck you.” jimin said.

“that’s what i’m asking for,” the girl replied in a dull tone, rolling her eyes.

the girl was annoying her, and the constant flirty jokes weren’t helping jimin’s case either. she couldn’t tell if she wanted to feel flustered, angry, or perhaps a mix of both.

“i’m gonna get the RA on you. you’ll be kicked out of the dorms, or probably even the school considering the amount of weed i smell off of you right now.”

“you wanna talk to the RA about me?” y/n laughed loudly at the statement, covering her mouth with her hand, as she turned around to face the fog.

“hey, chaewon! come here,” y/n screamed over the music that was still playing, and she stood aside after a bit, letting chaewon pop her head through the door.

“meet the fifth floor’s RA!” the annoying girl cackled, doubling over at the look on jimin’s face.

the girl was wasted–jimin could tell by the dazed look in her eyes, and how she had to lean against y/n to stabilise herself.

“don’t tell anyone i’m here.” chaewon slurred, and hiccupped, slowly raising her pointer finger to press it against jimin’s lips, but she missed, and ended up poking her in the eye. “or we’ll all end up in trouble.”

“shit!” jimin exclaimed, pressing a hand to her eye trying to soothe the pain.

y/n’s mouth curved into a smile, and jimin couldn’t tell if it was from her pain or chaewon’s actions. she lightly pushed chaewon back into the room while telling her to ease up on the drinks, and came back to face jimin straight on.

“see what I mean?” y/n said, shaking her head at jimin’s poor attempts, further belittling her.

jimin scrunched her forehead up in thought. she wasn’t going to accept defeat, and let this go–that wasn’t who she was–and she didn’t want to see y/n’s stupid hot smirk again anyways.

“if you lower the volume of your music, and keep it there” she gulped, “i’ll do anything that you want me to.”

“really?” y/n eyes widened, “if so-”

“nothing sexual, of course.” jimin cut her off before she had the chance.

y/n giggled in response, “well then.”

#hanglimi #kpop gg #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #aespa x reader #yu jimin x reader #karina x reader #karina imagines #aespa imagines

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catsushizz · 11 months ago

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Let Time Pass - S.R

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: you reminisce about the time when you met Spencer Reid at college and had a night of adventure that you'll never forget, but after that, you never spoke, until Penelope Garcia found your unsent letters and decided to play the savior of your undying love.

Genre: mutual pining, angst if you squint, but mostly fluff

WC: 3.2k

Warning: kissing, cursing, invading private property

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this, actually, guess the rom-com that inspired me to write this. I'll give you a hint, the first movie has "sunrise" in the title and the second movie includes unsent letters with addresses hehe.

---

Summer rain has always been your favorite accompanied by the sound of the patter of the raindrops. You looked outside your window with a faraway look, your glasses now above your hair as you took a break from reading the unsent letters.

Unsent letters you wrote when you were in college, being in love with someone for so long who you're not sure still remembers you can be draining, you've loved him since the first time he acknowledged your presence during class and when he took you out of campus when it was just the two of you.

Love comes in forms and somehow Spencer's was when he first spewed those few words to you when you were talking to your friends but they weren't paying attention so you stopped and just sat there embarrassed.

"Wasn't Centralia a town that is still burning to this day?" He had asked and your eyes held the universe at his question. You got his name, Spencer Reid and that name hasn't left your mind ever since then.

Love comes in forms and yours are letters.

After that night, you never spoke again, he got his Ph.Ds and life got in the way. You're pretty sure he doesn't remember you, and you're sure he's got his way with life now, maybe he settled down and you're still pining for a man who you're not sure still remembers you.

You remembered how the night went with him, you actually talked until sunrise. At first, you walked around campus and then explored the city together. He told you about his mom, his goals, everything he hasn't said to anyone, and you told him about everything, your secrets that you haven't said to your best friend yet.

You sighed as you shook yourself out of your reverie, you looked down at your letter and traced the dust off from your neatly written letter.

the letter was a year old, you used to write letters every day when you first met him but when you graduated you never stopped but it became less frequent as time passed. Now you write one letter every year and put it inside a box but this time you decide to stop, finally stop chasing your fantasies and let life slap you in the face.

You laughed at your ridiculousness then you heard the door creek and your gaze landed on your best friend. "Hi Pen" you smiled at her.

Penelope's gaze landed on the box in your hand "What's that?" She asked.

You rolled your eyes and stood up from your couch engulfing her in a tight hug "Stop being nosy and when did you arrive?"

She groaned at the contact "50 minutes ago" you laughed and let go of her.

"were you stuck in a conversation with Mom?" She nodded and let her gaze drift off to the box again.

"Seriously, is that your box from college? You never let me touch it and can you please let me see it, I'm older than you, in case you forgot" she insisted as she made the gesture of getting it out of your grasp.

You smacked her in her arms and hissed "No, and you'll never touch this, I don't care how old you are" You glared at her but it held no threat.

"Fine, dinner is ready your Mom asked me to get you" she grumbled and you let out a huff of amusement.

Penelope was never nosy when it came to you but it's been years since you've ever been with someone and she had a hunch that the box had something to do with it.

"Go on ahead I'm going to change in the bathroom," Penelope said straight up lying in front of your face. You didn't question it as it seems believable, perks of working with profilers.

You only hummed and you made a mistake by putting the box inside your closet without locking it. As soon as you left Penelope got out of the bathroom and searched for your box which wasn't hard to find.

She made sure you were completely out of sight before opening it, she didn't know what she expected but surely it wasn't this. Her jaw went slack as she read through your letters from when you were in college until last year, some were long and some were short, with dates in the corner of each letter.

Spencer Reid, her Mighty professor, Her boy genius.

You stopped, why did you stop? She thought while she read through the recent content. She had to do something about it, she had to help you.

Penelope breathed in, fixed her hair in the mirror, and got out of the room, pretending as if she hadn't shoved a box inside her bag and invaded her best friend's privacy, she's doing it for you so it can't be that bad right?

You were laughing at something your dad said but stopped when you saw how unsettled Penelope was "Pen what's wrong?" You asked, your voice laced with concern.

Now she felt guilty, she felt like throwing up but this was for you. "Nothing, I- I just uh, need to go I feel like I forgot something at home" she stammered as she made her way to the door.

"What? Let me drive you home" You stood up from your seat, your mom and dad looking between you two with suspicion in their eyes.

"No!" Penelope abruptly exclaimed, her hand flailing around for you to stop, making you and your parents flinch at the volume of her voice.

She cleared her throat and pushed her bag away from sight which didn't go unnoticed by you "I can drive myself and besides I got something to drop off at a friend's house" she chuckled awkwardly.

You hesitantly sat back down and nodded "Okay... Call me when you get home" You smiled at her and she nodded. She didn't change her clothes but you thought none of it, maybe that was the thing that she forgot.

---

Spencer was lounging on his couch when he heard the loudest knock he had ever heard in his entire life. His brows knitted together as he peeped at the peephole of his door before opening it.

"Garcia?" He mumbled while looking at the frantic girl in front of him, if he didn't know any better she would've murdered someone but that was just a silly thought.

Penelope pushed Spencer inside urgently and pushed a box against his chest, he had to balance himself at the force.

"What's this?" He asked, confusion evident on his face. Penelope sighed and she sat down on the couch with her hand on her face.

"Do you remember a girl in college?" She muttered, her voice barely visible but he heard her.

"You need to be more specific than that, Penelope" Spencer said and pursed his lips as he put the box on the table and sat down beside her.

Penelope frowned as she looked at Spencer "A girl who you spoke to once and never heard from ever again" she said, her body fully facing him.

She noticed his expression doesn't change and she groaned "For a person who has an eidetic memory, you're shit at remembering" she grumbled.

Spencer looked offended "What?! You're the one talking about a girl without context, do you know how many people I spoke to at college? 80% of those people-" Penelope clicked her tongue and signaled for him to stop.

She took the box from the table and pushed it back to his chest which made him glare at her, she ignored him.

"Open it" she demanded. Spencer studied her tense figure and the way she was trying to hug herself to make herself feel better.

"I feel like you stole something that isn't yours-" he said but found himself being cut off by Penelope's hissed.

"Stop profiling me and open the damn box" she whined as she stood up from the couch and paced around his apartment.

Spencer shook his head as he finally opened the box. He looked at Penelope in confusion and when he saw it was a bunch of old letters.

"Whose this for?" He questioned.

"For you, obviously! I wouldn't have brought it to you if it weren't addressed to you" she exclaimed.

"But there isn't any address on these" he shuffled through the letters, they were still in the envelopes.

"Just read it!"

"Garcia, you do know you just invaded someone's privacy right?"

"I know, just read it. Please?"

Spencer sighed and nodded his head. He started on the first letter that was technically open and he let his gaze back to Garcia who was now sweating in guilt.

When he opened it, he felt his heart beginning to thump. Garcia watched him carefully as she noticed his expression gradually changed.

Dear, Spencer Reid

Do you remember when you first talked to me? I remember thinking that you're the kind of man I'm willing to put my life at risk for. I'm sure you endured me rambling about the burning town (that is still burning to this day apparently and it's been 7 years since we last spoke)

But what I'm trying to say is, I'm still in love with you, pathetic I know. But I just can't seem to let you go, you're like impossible not to remember and each day I try to forget about you and move past my ability to love so deeply but I can't.

Do you remember when you talked to me about your mom? I was so proud of you for coming up that far for your mom, and when we sneaked in on a bar and actually stole a bottle of wine? I couldn't stop laughing that time. God, I keep recalling that memory.

I shared all of my thoughts with you, spilled all my secrets to you, and at some point we held hands and I was so shocked because you told me you had a thing with germs. Honestly, it made me feel special.

I'm scared that if I see you again you'll think I'm weird and obsessive, which I'm not! I can stomach a rejection and I'll completely leave you alone if you ask me to. I'm just really bad at letting people go you know?

But I won't drag this on for long, you're not gonna see this anyway, and one last thing, I hope you have the best life the universe has to offer. I'll talk to them face to face if they are mean to you.

This will be my last letter, I'm letting you go now. I've been so in love with you that I feel like I'll be stuck in a loophole where life is trying to berate me every time for not saying anything to you, for not congratulating you when you graduated because I was feeling too shy to approach you that day. I wish I had, then maybe we could've talked more and had the time of our lives and maybe a repeat of what we did when we first met.

I'm just hoping life is a little bit gentler with you this time.

Yours truly

The girl who you talked to until sunrise

When he finished reading the letter he was silent for a good 3 minutes, and then he started shuffling through the letters and read them all like a madman. Penelope had to stop herself from stopping him.

God did he remember you, fucking hell he remembers you. You've been on his mind for 8 years. He even found himself in tears, he didn't expect someone to love him this much. Yearn for him like he yearns for you.

Spencer wasn't the type of guy who got over things easily and he had come to accept it as a part of him, the pair of you spoke once yet he can't deny the spark he felt while talking to you. If it were anybody else he would've found a way to get out of the conversation but your voice was addicting and so was your ramble about the old town.

He even went as far as to pretend not to know about the things that happened within that town just so he could hear your voice a little while longer. Your conversation shifted as time passed and Spencer found himself talking about anything really, he even made jokes that you found funny and he couldn't ignore the flutter in his stomach when he saw you smile.

When he saw you under the first light of the day, he felt himself fall in love, even if the time was fleeting his love wasn't, it never was.

Every time he was on death's door, you were always the subject of his memories. He keeps recalling the night when he felt like the universe was in his favor only for it to laugh at his face when he didn't see you again.

"I can help you, she's at the bar right now, she texted me," Penelope said, snapping him back down on earth.

He wiped a stray tear and sniffled "No, it's too late, she stopped writing like a year ago" he muttered and Penelope noticed the pain in his voice.

"Don't be ridiculous, I know her, she could be writing a letter right now as we speak" Penelope laughed.

"At a bar?"

"It was a joke, Spencer. Now let's go get your girl, Prince Charming!" She grinned as she dug through her bag for her keys.

"I don't know... I feel like I'm just digging my own grave, Garcia. I can't bear to hear her say that she doesn't feel the same way anymore" He whispered, his voice small as he avoided Penelope's disapproving look.

"That girl watches rom-coms, Spence. Do you think she'll brush off her feelings that easily? Try watching Serendipity and come back to me and try again but right now we need to hurry" She grabbed his arms and dragged him out of his apartment.

She stopped when they got into her car "Promise me you won't tell her I gave you the letter" she said sternly.

"But how am I supposed to explain why I'm there?" He asked confused.

"You're a genius, figure it out," she said as she buckled her seatbelt.

---

You were sitting in a booth with your friends. After having dinner with your parents, your friends invited you to a bar where you felt inclined to come, but you didn't know how to decline.

The air was suffocating so you excused yourself and got out of the bar. You sigh as your gaze shifts to the sky, Spencer would've pointed you to the constellation that was present right now.

"The one you're looking at right now is Aquila" You whipped your head to the familiar voice and you heard yourself gasp.

Spencer smiled when your eyes met "The brightest star in the constellation is Altair" he said as he began walking towards you.

"There is a story of an old Chinese legend about two stars, Altair and Vega, In the story two people met and fell in love but were separated by the stars" he was now in front of you, his hands in his pajama pocket, he turned red as he realized what he was wearing.

"What are you doing here?" You said, at a loss for words. He looked different but not in a bad way. He looked good. Hot even.

Spencer chuckled awkwardly, he always knew you were beautiful but God, you are gorgeous now.

You averted your gaze when you noticed a figure in the distance then your blood ran cold when you saw Penelope, Spencer noticed.

"Don't be mad at her, she helped me find you" he defended urgently as he grabbed your arms. You knitted your brows together.

"How d- did you two meet?" You stammered.

"We worked together" he rubbed his nape, a nervous tick that you notice.

Spencer was so sure he knew what to say to you but now that you're actually in front of him, he was left speechless.

"I never told her about you- did you read the letters?!" You exclaimed, your hand flying to your mouth in shock.

Spencer looked guilty as he averted his gaze to the ground "Yes..." He trailed off.

"God, you must think I'm crazy" you grumbled as you kept fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt.

"Hey, I don't think you're crazy" he whispered as he cupped your face with his hand "I actually find it endearing that you still think of me to this day, and just so you know you haven't left my mind either" he softly said, his face was so close you could feel his breath hitting your cheeks.

He tucks a stray hair out of your face, his eyes holding adoration as he meets your eyes again "Really?" You whispered.

His eyes darted to your lips and he felt himself subconsciously lick his lips "Yeah" he muttered.

He brushed his lips against yours as if testing the waters and when you fluttered your eyes shut, he kissed you as if he was going to devour you.

He breathed in as he kissed you, a certain longing lingered in the air. He pulled away to take a breath but then you surged forward and connected your lips against him for the second time, his hand on your waist as he pushed you closer against him, your hand snaking its way to the hair on his nape as you tugged him closer making him groaned in the kiss.

He tugged on your bottom lip asking for permission which you granted and he slid his tongue in, you tasted so sweet he found himself starting to get addicted. You were a panting mess when both of you separated, his forehead resting against yours, your eyes still closed as you took deep breaths.

Spencer rubbed his nose against yours affectionately and you giggled "You know you'll be stuck with me for a long time right?" You muttered.

"Make it forever" he grins, he connects his lips back to you but this time it is softer than the first, you kiss him back as you both fall in a rhythm.

When you pulled back he chased your lips and that made you chuckle "I'm still mad at her for stealing my letters" you muttered.

"Don't be, please. She's the reason I get to see you again" he said as he pulled you in a hug, your head resting against his chest as he pressed a kiss on the crown of your head.

"And I can't believe you were about to give up on me" Spencer joked lightly and you poked him on his hip making him jolt in surprise.

"Hey! Not fair, what was I supposed to do?" You whined and he laughed.

"to make it seem fair" he looks down on you as you meet his gaze, still in his warm embrace "I wrote about you in my journal, all my journals are full of you" he smiled.

You gasp "what? Let me read it please? you've read my letters" you pleaded.

He hummed "Nope, come on Penelope's waiting in the car" he said as he leads you to Penelope's car with his hand on your back.

"That's totally unfair, but I will snoop around"

"No, you won't"

"You snooped on my letters without my permission, so it's right that I should too," you said smugly.

"Shouldn't you be doing that to Penelope?"

"Oh yeah, let's do it"

-----

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The divider is from @cafekitsune :)

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