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someguynamedzoom · 7 months ago

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Valhalla in Vogue (Short Story)

(CW: Violence, Death, Religion, Suicide)

I believe myself to be a good, God-loving American like anybody else. I pray, I follow the rules, and I respect dueling. As everyone knows, only those who are brave and honorable are permitted into Heaven. And of course, the most respectable way to go is to be courteously slain over a disagreement. Indeed, formal combat is God’s favorite, and any other method shall burn you in Hell. A fate unlikely for an American, as we have no such cowards. If someone here were to not die by another’s hands, then they must’ve never been American in the first place. Although… Something happened to make me question some things. Allow me to tell a story.

I had just turned eighteen, the appropriate age for combat, along with a few of my peers. We believed our shared births to be a wonderful miracle and decided to throw a combined celebration. After all it wasn’t only a day for us, but also for those old school-issued Makarovs finally leaving the classroom to relive their forgotten battles. So, our grade met at a popular bar that neglected identification. Because of that, the following evening was quite merry and the refreshments influenced us greatly. Joey, who was obsessed with the classics, only allowed the speakers to blare Billy Joel and Tim, who declared himself a clown, had an amusing lip-syncing for Movin’ Out. These lives of the party were juxtaposed by my lonesome nursing of a bottle. Though I did enjoy watching them, opposed to another individual.

I locked eyes with a classmate named Bruce, who seemed apathetic toward the event. I didn’t know much about the fellow, other than him being another church-going American. And I’m sure he knew little regarding me, yet that did not decrease his heavy gaze. Followed by the formation of an odd grin. It took me a moment to understand what he was implying until I met with the notion that was probably in the back of all our minds. He wanted to duel me. Now, I had no reason to but once I was reminded that I was now allowed, I found the same urge to participate in God’s plan. I returned his leer and he approached.

The beat of my heart intensified with each step he took. The excitement to finally use my skill caused me to feel up my holstered gun. However, a sudden thought brought an unfamiliar sentiment. What if I were to lose the duel and die? The question made me tense and cease all movement. I don’t know why; death is a common result so there was no need for adverse reactions. Despite that, I was frozen. Forced to watch Bruce come with a widening smile. I apologized to God for whatever I did, pleading to cease this punishment. Because the look in Bruce’s eyes haunted me, I worried that I wasn’t even going to be challenged before shot dead. Then he came.

An oblivious man poorly timed a collision with Bruce. While he teetered, Bruce shouted at him to watch his path. A fair reaction, as half his vision was covered by the collar of his coat along with the brim of his hat. The outfit was unique, making the man appear as a battler of an old America. A time of expanding west, when bloodshed was a means rather than the meaning. In that sense, the man’s attire was offensive, like he was parodying the ghosts God had banished from America. Upon realizing what the man was wearing, Bruce began a disgusted rant. That made me feel ashamed since my curse ended once Bruce’s attention went to someone else. The man who dredged up shameful history was disinterested in the scolding but remained to take it. Then, the grin returned to Bruce’s face. In a mocking tone, he said another reason to consider the man’s clothes is how it may motivate someone to duel. To punctuate the threat, Bruce referred to the man by his caricature. He called him a cowboy.

Finally, the man– The cowboy turned to Bruce. His duster swung in the air, grabbing the attention of a few bystanders. He then told Bruce that he should be clear when making a challenge and dubbed him a kid. The description flustered Bruce, understandably as this night was meant to toast our maturity. It warranted a complaint that could not be delivered for the room was hushed by the cowboy taking out his weapon: A black handgun with a long barrel and wooden grips. It was an older piece, though better kept than our Russian leftovers. Another notable trait was the make, denouncing any semblance for self-defense. The gun’s aura screamed to kill and kill alone.

Usually, drawing a weapon, especially one as dramatic as this, would result in everyone else doing the same. No unrighteous murder would be tolerated by God’s favorite children. However, while he gained the whole room’s perception, no one else produced their firearm. Any dark intention was dissuaded by the cowboy pointing the barrel at himself. Additionally, any concern of him performing the most craven sin, suicide, was eliminated by his monologue. He informed us that his gun was a Thompson/Center Contender, a break-action hunting pistol made to only hold a single bullet at a time. This was confirmed by exposing the gun’s empty chamber. He continued by showing us his belt adorned in ammunition, their and the gun’s required caliber being .40-70. The cowboy admitted to the power possibly being overkill for a duel, but then commented on how often guns are in general. Finally, he explained his policy of never loading his gun before drawing and how he would only shoot it once. An audacious claim that elicited murmur from the crowd and sweat from Bruce.

Despite his nerves, Bruce clarified he still wanted to duel and kept that way even when the cowboy said they would draw in ten seconds. The abrupt decision silenced the room, and we viewed them with the respect properly given to duelers. The lengthy sixth of a minute passed and ended with a bang. Bruce’s gun flew across the bar with the cause smoking in the cowboy’s hand. True to the word, the cowboy only loaded after the time and did so in a blur. The amazing feat and Bruce’s loss by disarming called our applause. Although, our cheers were not as loud compared to if Bruce was granted the glory of death, something that upset him verily. Knowing this, the cowboy claimed he fumbled his shot. Bruce was about to confront him again before an older gentleman came over and enlightened Bruce. He told Bruce that he just dueled Harold Grace of The One Round, a walking legend who has dropped fighters far more experienced than us students. After that, Bruce dropped the matter.

The birthday ceremony resumed, now with everyone aware of Grace in the room. The off-putting attitude he held made most avoid him. Yet I, already feeling unlike myself, was attracted to the table he sat at. I inquired what he was doing there that night, and he begrudgingly told me that he intended to meet a woman– To duel, he established as if there could be any other reason. They both arranged to meet here, unaware of the ongoing party which caused him to regret his choice. I know his hint of disdain should’ve forced my leave, but I became persistent to stay. After seeing him handle that gun without hesitation, I believed he may hold a cure for my mental affliction. I explained what I just experienced with Bruce and asked if he had any tips for gunslinging. He gave me a once-over and declined by leaving the table.

I was disheartened for sure, but my goal lasted. I considered how if the man himself wouldn’t give me advice, then maybe his rumors would. This idea led me to the bartender who I knew had gossip as all good bartenders do. They pondered and told me the little that they knew. Grace adopted his policy of loading late early on and established himself with the One Round moniker. Although, he never explained why he did it. Sure, it’s impressive. But any sensible type can see how dangerous and absurd the fighting style is. The bartender then told me of a duel a few months prior. He was challenged by Prawn of The Swift, who was aptly named with a record-breaking draw time. Grace accepted, supposedly he always did, and they held it on a public street famous as a go-to impromptu arena. They waited for Grace’s preferred ten seconds before they both fired. When time, Prawn moved inhumanly to get the first shot off with his Beretta. It was an attack that should’ve went straight between Grace’s eyes. But while he drew, Grace went down on one knee and loaded his pistol while leaning back. It was indeed a position cruel for the posture, but it allowed Grace to steal Prawn’s intent including his life and the bridge of his nose.

I told the bartender how remarkable I found the story and let my tone prove it genuine. The bartender didn’t need any reassurance since they enjoyed the story themselves. Grace on the other hand wasn’t as convinced so he asked me if I meant it. I told him I did and paused briefly before letting out a yipe in shock of his sudden materialization. He didn’t react to my noise, thankfully, as he was too busy brooding over how to treat his newly acquired fan. He seemed upset, oddly enough, that someone would hold him in such high regard. I couldn’t see as to why since he was a prime example of how God’s warriors should be. Though he was ridiculously insistent on the clarification of my wanting to be a gunslinger. And even after I confirmed this, he seemed unable to conjure up any solution for me. Like he had a reason to hold back on educating me. Tragically, I didn’t get the chance to learn why.

Our conversation was interrupted by a man that I recognized as the one who convinced Bruce to leave. He said he had witnessed a fight from Grace’s youth and wished to be given a clarification. Grace didn’t respond but remained to hear the man give his tale. In the setting, Grace was a student proven by the school labeled semi-automatic he used instead of the Contender. While he was out and about one day, some of his peers showed with their own guns drawn. What issue they had; the man didn’t know. But he was there to witness Grace’s defense of unloading precise shots with a flurry. The man described the scene like a story from myth and I was entranced from hearing another exploit by The One Round. Then he came to the conclusion. After Grace had felled his foes, he supposedly dropped down and wept. This is what the man wanted to ask about. He, and now I, wondered why Grace would cry over someone’s death, let alone the deaths of his enemies. Grace did not answer. He simply left the counter and I curiously followed suit.

We traveled across the room. I didn’t probe him about the story, but I did ask where he was going. With a flat emotion he said that he realized it was time. Before I could ask for what, I was reminded of his purpose when he stopped to stand in front of a woman. She had just entered the building, standing tall and surveying the environment with a stern expression. People took note of the sheathed side-sword buckled to her regal jacket and sent around gossip fitting for the eccentric. She was identified to be Ann of The Blade, a swordswoman obsessed with dueling the skilled. This one confirmed to be at her request while she greeted Grace courteously. As the reason for her visit spread, the onlookers became eager to see someone fight with a sword. The tool was irregular with the current score for gunpowder beating steel. Yet her ability with it was proven long ago and to see it against another unusual choice was unquestionably intriguing.

After introductions, the two strutted to the center of the room. While walking, Ann asked if Grace would kindly not use the handicap he had given everyone else. Grace politely refused and said it was for himself. She seemed dissatisfied with that answer. Grace figured she would’ve understood, carrying an unconventional weapon herself. Ann stated that it was for character. Grace then offered to justify himself by asking her to see his policy as the same while not revealing if it actually was. Ann was silent to that, ending the conversation. The two took their positions and hovered their hands above their arms.

The tension summoned was a far cry to what we witnessed with Bruce. Opposing each other were two genuine professionals. Killers who made their own names and vanished the disbelief for their equipment. A blade slashing before a gun fired. An unloaded weapon that still assured triumph. We were in awe while watching and shaken at the end of ten seconds. It was quick, untraceable. Ann’s blade pierced Grace and extended out of his back. Grace reacted by giving his signature single shot into her chest. The force of the blast sent them apart. Ann’s firm grasp of her sword pulled it from Grace to leave a hole in his heart. He clumsily stumbled backward, accidentally seating himself in a chair. Ann slammed into the bar which she then leaned on to prevent herself from falling. A red stream ran down her jacket while the exit wound gaped her back. Nonetheless, she was breathing and compared to Grace’s limp body it appeared that she would live.

The crowd erupted. In the name of God, a victor had been chosen. The party gathered around Ann who seemed more concerned with her gunshot than her glory. While I watched her be praised for her skill and honor, I couldn’t bring myself to join them. Ann impressed me, of course, but I was still saddened that Grace would now be unable to help me. While brainstorming for a new solution, I went over to his body. I knew I could no longer gain anything but figured that I should at least get an early start on paying my respects. However, my plan was cancelled by his voice. Grace was not dead, but dying, and in his final moments he was speaking to himself. The way he spoke was happy, as expected of a dying man. Yet what he said was strange. He was glad that people were applauding his death. This made me curious enough to ignore the common reaction to finding a corpse still alive and I told him they weren’t applauding just that. I corrected him that Ann’s win was also a part of it. He noticed me and asked what point that changed. I wasn’t sure what he meant and got to say nothing while he then stood with a vigor unfitting for his condition. As he did so, the chair he was on scratched against the floor causing a few celebrators to turn and see him. They then got the rest to look at him while he reclaimed the gun he dropped in the fight. We were confused as to why Grace was still here and not yet in Heaven but knew it would be rude to interrupt the final actions of the warrior. With his gun returned, he replaced the spent round in his gun with a fresh bullet from his belt. After doing so, he pointed the weapon at me, returning me to the unusual sorrow Bruce had introduced. I couldn’t fathom what I did to bring out Grace’s hostility, but then realized by his smile that he wasn’t upset with me. He did not shoot me, nor did he want to. Harold Grace just wanted to ensure that I paid attention to the advice he finally came up with:

“Kid, live a little.”

He then placed the gun against his temple and pulled the trigger.

No one speaks of The One Round anymore. His last act tarnished any memory of him. Yet, why? Why does what he said still stick with me and what does it mean? How come I, unlike everyone else, am unable to forget him? Why do I still fear the possibility of dying? Why am I different? I shall continue to ask God for answers, but in case someone who listened has one, please share.

#short story #creative writing #writing #writers on tumblr #fiction #cowboy

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years ago

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this drabble requested by the lovely @through-the-little-door “Ya got a minute?” Daryl asked you. You looked up from your seat on the step where you were cleaning your rifle. The archer looked a little anxious. “For you? Always,” you said standing, slinging the gun strap over your shoulder and giving him a small smile that went straight to his heart. He tilted his head back toward the prison. “C’mon. Follow me.” You trailed behind him, rushing a little to keep up with his long strides. He led you through the cell block and out the other side and you started winding through the catacombs. It was dark and cool in the maze of halls, but your heart was starting to race. “Where exactly are we going?” you asked him finally. “You’ll see,” was his only response, spoken softly over his shoulder. “Daryl,” you laughed, “my legs aren’t as long as yours. Slow down!” He fell back until you were beside him and gave you a sideways glance. You peered up at him inquisitively. “Seriously, where are you taking me? It’s not, like, a room full of walkers is it? ‘Cuz I was on the fence all morning and I’m all killed out,” you said wryly. He scoffed and shook his head. “Ya don’t trust me?” he drawled, one eyebrow quirking up. You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow. “Of course I do. I just don’t understand what you possibly could have waiting at the end of this...” “You’ll see,” he said again. After several minutes he finally stopped outside a door in the administrative section of the prison. There was a little smile on his lips and your heart jumped. “Alrigh’. Close yer eyes.” “What are you up to?” you asked softly. His smile grew. “Just shut yer damn eyes.” You let out a light, somewhat nervous laugh, but finally closed your eyes. You heard a door knob turn and the creak of the hinges. Then Daryl’s hand alighted on your lower back and gently nudged you forward. “Just step up a little bit... There. Alrigh’. Open your eyes.” It took a moment for your eyes to adjust but when they did your jaw dropped opened. The entire room, which had once been some kind of conference room, was lined with bookshelves stuffed to the brim. “Wh—what—?” You couldn’t even get the question out as you turned to look at the archer with wide eyes. He shrugged, his cheeks coloring a little pink. “I know most of the library was destroyed, and what was left wasn’t no good, so—I just started collectin’ what I thought ya might like when I saw it out on runs.” You stared at him, speechless, for a long moment and then allowed your eyes to wander back over the books. “I—Daryl, I don’t even know what to say...” You were compelled forward almost by some invisible force and your fingers ran along the spines of the books. Paperbacks and leather-bound folios, shiny novels and classic works. He cleared his throat and rubbed a hand anxiously over the back of his neck. “So... ya like it?” he drawled. You spun and shook your head vaguely. “Like it? It’s—it’s incredible. You did this for me?” you asked, feeling the apples of your cheeks growing hot. He nodded. “This is the nicest thing I think anyone has ever done for me. I don’t even know what to say. Thank you.” Your heart was absolutely whirring in your chest. The archer, always downplaying his actions, waved you off. “S’nothin’,” he said, nervously averting his eyes away from yours. And then that unseen force was back, but this time it pushed you over to him. You grabbed him by the collar and stood up onto your toes, pulling his lips down to meet yours. For a moment, he tensed, but half a second later, his lips softened beneath yours and his hands looped around to your lower back and he was kissing you fervently. When you pulled back, slipping your hands down from his collar to rest on his strong chest, the two of you were both blushing and all nervous smiles. “Sorry...” you murmured. “Caught you a little off-guard, didn’t I?” His blue eyes flickered between yours. “Mhm,” he hummed, still a little stunned. “But—I’m okay with it if ya ever wanna catch me off-guard again,” he drawled. You grinned up at him and bit your bottom lip. “Good.” Prompt: the library reveal scene in Beauty and the Beast <3

#daryl dixon fluff #be still my heart #the walking dead drabbles #twd fanfics #daryl dixon #my daryl gifs #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #through-the-little-door

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violettelueur · 3 years ago

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— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE TWENTY FOUR || ACCOMPLICES

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + gojo satoru + nitta akari from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of violence + mention of curses + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 22 may

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 3.5k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but….

↳ previous episode : the origin of blind obedience 2

↳ barista’s notes : so here we are for the final episode of season one of jujutsu kaisen for my series, it’s been a long journey since i started this in early feburary and now it is late may ʕ ꆤ ᴥ ꆤʔ wow times does go really fast, doesn’t it? well, i hope you enjoy this cup of special classic black coffee and prepare for the jujutsu strolls that are going to be coming soon when you ask for a bit of milk in your coffee ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’.

Hakufuku : 10:19-10:32

2.5. for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique : hopefully this video is slightly better…

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

SAITAMA URAMI EAST JUNIOR HIGH - 1ST YEAR

“Here you go, you’ll need this”

Turning his head to look up, Fushiguro quickly noticed someone standing over him with their hand stretched out in front of him leading his eyes to peer down, only to notice a bandage wrap within the palm of their hands causing him to turn away as if he was looking away in disgust.

“Here you go, you’ll need this, you drag,” you repeated with the insult causing an irk to appear on Fushiguro’s forehead before turning to look at you with an annoyed expression present on his face.

“Go away, I don’t need it,” Fushiguro mentioned with some hint of annoyance and irritation within his tone causing the same irk to appear on your forehead as you then turned your head to look at the pile of beaten bodies that were behind him - an unsightly common sight since you enrolled into Saitama Urami East Junior High.

Sighing out loud, you suddenly grabbed the back of Fushiguro’s collar and began dragging him across the floor towards the bench that was close by (much to Fushiguro’s annoyance) and threw his body slight causing his upper shoulder area to hit the wooden side of the bench which lead him to hiss in pain.

“I don’t need it~ well sounds like you do,” you teased in a nonchalant manner causing Fushiguro to give you a sharp glare only to see that you had no reaction to it. Reaching into your blazer pocket, you took out a box of painkillers with some plasters in different sizes and a small pot of ointment before placing them on the outdoor bench.

“Don’t bother your sister too much...okay?” you rhetorically asked your classmate before turning back to walk away from the situation since you knew Fushiguro was going to question you on your knowledge about his sister even though he - on the outside - never really took the time to appreciate her or showed that he cared.

“What a drag,” you commented with another sigh before stretching your arms down to release the act that was slowly creeping its way to your shoulders as some students began to exit out of the school building to eat their lunch causing them to notice you as you gave them a little wave.

A FEW WEEKS LATER

Ever since that day, Fushiguro couldn’t help but begin to notice you slightly from the corner of his eyes as each day went by. At first, you sort of blended into the crowd in the sea of uniforms that was travelling around in the hallway, seeming to not want any attention from the teachers nor the students alike yet you seemed to somehow attract them leading you to offer the same small smile that he had somewhat gotten used to.

On the other hand, Fushiguro couldn’t help but get slightly annoyed at how your name was being called by the second, it was always “Y/N” this or “Y/N” that since you hated your last name being called. As in a matter of fact, he didn’t even have any acknowledgement or a hint of a clue of what your last name was at all. However, when you would say your name in your own tone, Fushiguro slowly began to notice how he then wouldn't get irritated causing a wave of confusion to hit him every time he would wonder why.

“Y/N, aren’t you going to participate in the elections for the student council, the teachers have nominated you?” one female student asked in a light tone causing Fushiguro to peak slightly over his arm as he was taking a nap for this lunch break, only to see you holding a book with a few other female students surrounding you.

“Nah, it’s such a drag...I don’t like taking responsibility for things,” you commented softly as you placed your thumb over the last word you were reading to keep a hold of your place causing the students around you to become confused before asking more questions causing some of your answers to perplex the erratic haired boy himself.

“I’m not good at organising things”

“I don’t have the time”

“I don’t like helping people”

“Liar,” Fushiguro muttered under his breath before closing his eyes again to fall into a quick nap while repeating the last words you had said to the students around you.

“I don’t like helping people”

If you really didn’t like helping people, then why did you help him a few weeks ago? As well as leaving some first aid kit items on his table at the end of lunch to restock shall he say? Sure, you had helped other people here and there from letting them copy your notes to little study sessions during lunch to help the other person concentrate but he was wondering why you would help a delinquent like him...but further yet, why didn’t you ask for anything in return.

“Y/N, I found you,” someone shouted, causing Fushiguro’s ears to spike up once he knew the familiar tone to the voice that decided to enter the conversation.

“I wanted to apologise for Megumi’s behaviour for the past weeks and wanted to pay you back for the medical items you had given him,” Tsumiki informed you causing Fushiguro to slowly open his eyes again to see Tsumiki’s arm outstretched with some cash within her palm while you looked down on at with a hint of disappointment in your face.

“Don’t bother your sister too much...okay?”

Placing your bookmark on the page you were on, you gently placed it down before folding Tsumiki’s fingers over the money she was kindly offering you as payment, leading her to give you a surprising expression since, with that action, she instantly knew you were declining.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to repay me...Just take care of him, okay?” you mentioned with a soft tone before smiling up at your senior leading Fushiguro’s curiosity about you to heighten up even further than it was at the beginning.

“I don’t like helping people”

SAITAMA URAMI EAST JUNIOR HIGH - 2ND YEAR

Walking in the school hallways, Fushiguro couldn’t help but notice how the gloomy and mundane weather was reflecting everyone’s mood as it seemed as if everyone had a lack of energy this morning and to be honest, he couldn’t blame them one single bit.

It was the day after, Tsumiki decided to attempt the test of courage at Yasohachi Bridge causing her to become cursed as she fell into a sudden coma causing guilt to begin eating him almost wholly as he took each step in the hallway.

From what he recalled, Gojo had mentioned that Tsumiki was somewhat saved by a cursed technique leading her to not become physically injured at the attempt of jumping off, yet that didn’t save her from the curse that fell upon her since the lingering reverse cursed energy that was surrounding her body wasn’t enough or effective on her and the other students that decided to tag along with her leading him to wonder who was the person that tried to save his sister and her friends from that night.

Suddenly, Fushiguro heard something drop from behind causing him to turn his body completely, only to discover a fallen student leading him to widen his eyes on the sight before crouching down to check the pulse of the person only to discover that they were fine, as he then processed to turn his head to the side where more students from the classroom beside him began to drop one by one leading him to become more panicked since this was just the day after Tsumiki’s curse.

Unexpatantly, Fushiguro heard someone beginning to run towards his direction causing him to turn his head once again, only to find you running towards him with a somewhat worried expression on your face as you began to look at each classroom to see all the students within them passed out.

“Fushiguro!” you shouted in a panic leading him to quickly stand up on his feet as he reached out to you so he could rush you out of the school building to get you to Gojo to ensure your safety. If you were able to help him multiple times, maybe this time he could help you as his repayment.

Grabbing your hand, Fushiguro turned to his feet to begin running but for some reason, you weren’t running with him due to the halt of his movements when trying to pull you towards the exit of the school.

“Y/N, what are you doing? We got to run!” Fushiguro shouted in anger as he turned his head to face you eye to eye, only to come into eye contact with dark but glowing purple eyes causing his body to slowly become limp as his vision began to become gradually disorientated as an illusion of purple cherry blossoms began to fall around the both of you.

“Hakufuku”

Suddenly, Fushiguro began to lose his footing causing his body to quickly fall, only for you to catch him in your arms as you slowly lowered yourself to make sure his body didn’t harshly hit the floor due to any injuries he had gained from yesterday’s fight as you laid him on his side.

“Sorry, Fushiguro,” you whispered with a hint of regret before rapidly standing back up to run the other way which seemed towards the school’s computer’s system leading him slowly turn his head as he struggled to reach out towards your direction before the same arm dropped completely while his mind began to grow blank while your figure steadily disappeared from his sights while his memories of you began to gradually fade as he tried to maintain them with such difficulty.

“Y/N…”

THE DAY BEFORE THE MISSON

“You’ve been reading those books for quite some time, you know”

Turning your head away from the book placed upon your lap, you discovered Gojo in front of you with a teasing smile on his face as his body was leaning on the side of the doorway he had entered from.

“Well, there are quite a few to go through,” you muttered as you turned your head to the other side to see two piles of stacked up books that were somewhat in equal height right now with one pile of the books that you needed to read while the other was the books you had finished reading during the past weeks since you had moved into the Gojo’s clan estate.

From what you could recall the day you stepped foot into Gojo’s house, he had surprisingly guided you into a room that was filled with bookshelves that had books comfortably sitting in its place causing your eyes to widen at the sight only for him to inform you that all that books had belonged in your name.

“All of them belong to me?” you remembered asking leading your adoptive father to giggle slightly at your confused and flustered state as you began to roam around the pathway the bookshelves had given you, only to land on a particular shelf that had books written from your clan to which seemed to be addressed to you.

“I see you found the books, your mother was really smart to lock them and make sure you’re the only person who could read them,” Gojo mentioned to you when he had found you staring at them leading you to turn to him with a perplexed expression only for him to further explain that whenever he tried to touch the weathered spine of the book he would feel an invisible barrier blocking his movements and even when he attempted to use his infinity, there was no use.

However, when it was you, it just seemed like a normal book due to how easily you pull gently and carefully pull it out of the shelf and open it, only for Gojo to comment that all he could see what blank pages yet sense the linger cursed energy that was coming through the paper-based artefact. While on the other hand, you were able to view the elegant black brush strokes gracing the paper which was slightly confusing since you weren’t able to fully comprehend the poetic and outdated Japanese due to how influential the Chinese language was during the Heian era.

“I can’t believe you are technically older than me~” Gojo teased while wiping a fake tear from the corner of his eye, causing you to immediately snap out of your daydream to fully turn to him with a completely annoyed expression painted on your face.

“I DIDN’T AGE ONCE DURING MY SEALING, YOU DRAG!” you screamed in irritation causing the servant who was coming to serve you some tea to stumble slightly before regaining her balance as she let out a sigh of relief, leading you to deeply apologise to her before rushing up to your feet to help her on carrying the wooden, circular tea tray that she was holding on for you.

“I wish I got to see you grow into the woman that you are by the time you are reading this, but may you bloom into the sorcerer that you dream to be” - Your mother.

ꕥ

“GOJO! GOJO!”

Slowly, from the loud shouting that was going on, you began to groan in annoyance while opening your eyes to find Itadori and Kugisaki kneeling in front of you with panicked expressions residing in their faces before steadily turning into relief once they noticed that you were smiling at them.

“Good job,” you whispered to them before resting your head back on the tree you were leaning on causing them to smile brightly back at you before high-fiving each other as they shouted on how relief they were as they already had a fright when they discovered Fushiguro laying on their ground before trying to find you.

“Did you collect the finger?” you questioned your classmates leading them to all freeze in a panic since they didn’t expect you to know about the issue with the special curse that was lingering within the domain that you were all previously in. As a matter of fact, you had already sensed it a few moments ago as well those three years back when you were in middle school.

“Ah...about that...Itadori ate it…” Fushiguro muttered in embarrassment, causing you to look at him with a blank stare before turning your head towards Itadori, who was now looking at you with a ‘trying to be innocent’ expression on his face as he scratched his cheek with his index finger.

“Sorry, Gojo...It was an accident,” Itadori stuttered in a light tone, while you continued to give him the blank expression before hitting his head with the handle of your katana causing him to hold the area while wincing in pain as you began to stand up on your feet.

“HEY! YOU FOUR!”

Due to the sudden shouting, everyone head’s to shot up to find Nitta screaming at you and your classmates from above while waving her fist in such an erratic way, trying to emphasise her anger to all of you at this current moment in time.

“What have you four been doing? You wouldn’t answer my calls!” Nitta yelled, causing her voice to echo throughout the entire area causing you to wonder if anyone had turned on their lights due to the loud interruptions from their sleep.

“Oh, Nitta-san,” Itadori called out in surprise as he stared up at the irritated woman.

“She’s lost it,” Kugisaki mentioned, as she too was observing the shouting fit that all four of you were enduring right now.

“Well, shall we go home?” Itadori asked as he turned around to face you, leading the other two first-years to turn to look at you as well causing your eyebrows to raise up

‘Ah...I guess I did think about running away for a second....’

“Yeah, let’s go home,” you answered back before beginning to walk forward leaving Itadori and Kugisaki to talk about having Spendud Sushi as dinner while Nitta was continuing to yell at all four of you from above.

“I know as time passes, the more the Earth will push its fangs upon your shoulder and it’s completely my fault and I deeply apologise from the bottom of my heart. I knew the day that I was blessed with you that I desired nothing more than to give you the easiest route away from all the troubles the Zenin clan had put on us, away from the Jujutsu world and away from the loneliness that you will come face to face once I and your father are gone. I adore you with all my heart and want nothing more than your heart to be blessed with trust, happiness and comfort. Wherever you are, just know that I will always look after you, no matter how long I have to wait, I will always be the mother that I wished I could be for you” - Your mother.

ꕥ

“Why did you leave?”

Turning your head to the side, you found Fushiguro standing on the wooden terrace that you were sitting on with a stern look on his face while you just blinked at him before turning your head to face the garden with a book laying upon your lap as you tried a way to figure out how to bring up the topic that you tried to avoid since coming into acquaintance with the shikigami sorcerer.

“What do you mean?” you asked before closing the book in such a gentle manner, worried that you could damage more than it already was - even if it was such in a good condition after enduring itself for 1000 years.

“Why did you leave? Why did you erase my memory? Why did you go?” Fushiguro queried once again, as he decided to take a seat next to you causing anyone who would see both of you and Fushiguro to notice the contrast in your outfits. At this current moment in time, you were wearing a simple yukata due to being at Gojo’s estate - it was common/courtesy to wear traditional clothing - while Fushiguo was wearing a white jumper with what seemed to be black joggers along with some trainers causing you to come to the assumption that he had either can to talk to you or train with Gojo again like he did last time.

“I’m sorry Fushiguro...but I had to do it,” you answered before grabbing the cup of tea that was sitting right beside you as you then took a sip of the warm drink leading some of your nerves to calm down as you also took a deep breath.

“Why didn’t you stay?” Fushiguro questioned again in a low tone while staring down at the ground trying to compose himself as more memories of you began to steadily flow in.

“It was too risky,” you answered again as you continued to stare at the garden that was blooming in front of you before turning your head to look at your classmate, who seemed to be in deep thought about the response you had just given him.

“I never got to repay you back from the kindness you had given me,” Fushiguro mentioned as he turned his head up to look at you, only to make eye contact leading the memories of your technique to come into his mind.

“I don’t need a repayment, I just did what I wanted to help you,” you replied back as you placed your cup down onto the wooden tray before laying your upper body down on the terrace while your legs were handing off to the side causing your hair to splay across the wooden platform the both of you were sitting on right now.

“But you don’t like helping people,” Fushiguro quickly mentioned as he turned his head to face you, causing your eyes to move from the sky above you to the boy that was now looking at you with a somewhat small smile planted upon his face causing you to remember the conversation that you had with him and Kugisaki about not telling Itadori the reason why numerous amount of cursed fingers that have been popping up recently - making you come to the realisation that he was technically asking you and Kugisaki to help him keep the guilt away from the vessel of Sukuna himself.

“Yeah...I don’t like helping people,” you answered with the same smile as he was presenting you, causing a light giggle to arise from the both of you.

‘I’ll recommend them for a promotion later...’

“Whoever you fall for the sky for, my dear. I wish you nothing but the world’s blessing to fall upon the two of you. May all the flowers that come to bloom will bring you grace and tenderness that you deserve, the same feelings that I wish I could provide to you as a mother like how the sun gives you its warmth” - Your mother.

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stay-midnight · 3 years ago

Text

SKZ, Smut Headcannons

They/Them pronouns are used but here reader has a dick.

Read this at your own discretion — this is the most explicit thing I probably have ever wrote so please. Read. At. Your. Own. Discretion.

This contains: All Members’ kinks, what aftercare with them is like, their positions in bed (Dom/Sub and Top/Bottom) and more - This is more of a switch reader ig.

Note: Top or Bottom meaning the one who gives or receives, it’s usually only used on same-sex relationship unless pegging (The act of a woman penetrating a man with a toy or a strap-on.) is involved while Dom or Sub is used by the power dynamics in bed, meaning who takes the lead and who submits, this is why we have Subtops/Dombottoms.

a/n: This is me just passing time, also I was bored okay- also, this is my view on them so don’t @ me 😭. And oh yes, very classic idea. But i haven’t seen one for M. Readers tho mostly gender neutral and fem. readers.

~ All gif credits goes to their owners <3

Bang Chan

Switch leaning bottom, okay with topping but prefers to be on the receiving end. Soft Sub with Soft Dom Tendencies from time to time.

So like, I know almost or all of you see Chan as a Hard Dom/Top but hear me out—

Chan already takes care of 7 kids so he really just prefers to be taken care of in bed.

He doesn’t mind if you wanna go rough or soft on him, though he prefers you to be soft when he’s tired or after work.

He is barely a brat to be honest since he’s too tired so it’s very rarely you could put him in his place but from time to time he does like you being rough with him.

During more kinky nights though, well you have a plethora of toys to use on him~

He is a soft dom though during the times where you are extremely tired and just prefer to get led on so he’ll do just that.

He is pretty vanilla honestly, his kinks aren’t that wide or extreme.

Chan is very whiny and noisy in bed, whenever you are rough with him expect him to not listen to anything you say because he’d like to get what he wants. He would like it if you talk to him dirty though and praise him.

When you praise Chan, he’d be a good for you especially if you call him pretty or a good pup.

Kinks he likes that I can see are: Edging and Overstimulation (Receiving), Blowjobs (Giving or Receiving) and during more rough/kinky nights, he has a collar kink since he wants to wear it and for you to call him "puppy".

This one time you both had sex and he wore those wolf ears since he wanted to try. He looked cute and when you praised him. He lost control and went on all fours — him begging you to just destroy his ass.

His biggest no no is anything that gives you or him too much pain, spanking is okay but not too hard.

One thing that he wants to try with you is barebacking (unprotected sex) since you both always use protection for safety. He wants to feel your cock inside him with no barrier in between, he also want to feel you fill him up.

Aftercare with him is soft, even though he was the one who subbed for you he will check on you immediately with questions like: “Are you okay?” or something of the same.

He wants to ensure that you don’t have a domdrop.

So yeah, overall: Chan is a subby puppy that will still take care of you even if he’s the one to be limping the next day. That’s how much Channie loves you~

Lee Minho

Prefers to Top, but will bottom if you really really want it. Dom with Hard Dom tendencies, rarely subs but isn’t opposed to it.

Ah yes, Lino is a dom — what a suprise- (note the sarcasm pls-)

Minho just prefers to dominate/top you in bed, he wants you to whine and beg for him. He stares you down with those scary eyes of his.

Minho is an amazing brat tamer and he does not take kindly to them, so beware if you brat out. He will punish you, maybe even edge you till you finally become a babbling mess for him.

He also likes to tie you up and tease you, oh, dare I say that he wouldn't mind touching you in public, he would grab your ass a lot too and would squeeze your bulge if he sees you having one.

He isn’t much of a sub since he really just wants to fuck you senseless, ehem. I don’t make the rules— Would let you dom, if he sees you that way but still it would be fun for him to break a dom.

When with Minho though, passionate nights are rare due to him already being deep inside you fucking you into the bed roughly when he’s needy which is like every day— Mans has a high sex drive.

Though during those passionate nights expect Minho to be extra caring and soft to you cus' he wants you to feel loved through his pleasure.

His Biggest Kinks though are: Degradation and Petnames (Giving) Pain Play is also there (Giving) and he of course, likes teasing and hearing you beg for him. The petname he calls you is bunny and he degrades you a lot but if you don’t like being degraded he is okay with praising you instead.

He mostly calls you his cockslut or his cumdump (only if you agree on taking it raw) if not then he won’t call you any of these.

His biggest no no is anything with bodily fluids that isn't cum or spit. He hates getting dirty and he hates dirtying you too much, he is like a cat that’s why.

One thing that Minho wants to try with you is threesome, he wants to asks if you're down for it or not. If he sees you get angry though, he would deeply apologize and say that you were enough for him. But if you agree, Minho would either fetch Jisung to help dom you or Chan so you could help him dom him.

Aftercare with Minho is loving, he takes care of you and make sure you escape your headspace properly if you have one and he will praise you a lot like, “You did good for me, sweet bunny..”

Overall: Minho is a hard dom that extremely loves you and is thankful that you trust him enough during your heated sessions.

Seo Changbin

Switch, okay with topping or bottoming. Switch again, okay with domming or subbing. He likes to dom when he’s more energetic and likes to sub when he has those days that he just wanna lay down and let you do all the work.

Most of y’all see him as hard dom/top but I see him more of a switch. He has this cute side that I think is more submissive than you think.

Binnie wants to be taken care of softly. He doesn’t really like the rough treatment and prefers if you be soft with him if he is subbing/bottoming. He likes the petname "Bun" or "Bunny"

When you both had sex for the first time you expected him to be rough with you but he wasn't. He was soft and careful with you making sure you felt more pleasure than pain. He also prepped you as much as possible because he thought your moans was you feeling pain—

As scary as he may look he’s a softie, opting for more gentle sessions that rough ones. Sure there are some days were he prefers to just lift you up with his strong muscles and rail you against a wall but he mostly prefers the passionate nights.

Changbin when he subs likes to get tied up because he likes the feeling of constriction. He doesn't really tie you up much but from time to time he pins your arms as he fucks you.

He kinda doesn't know what to do with you when your bratty, he asked one of his members once and said member choked at the question. He gives you some slaps to your ass but that’s how far he got— So don’t be bratty with him, cuz he’ll be a confused bun.

Changbin usually bites his lips when he bottoms since he doesn't like letting out his sweet noises that is until you reassured him that it was okay and oh did he get loud, you were afraid that the neighbors heard him moaning out your name.

Changbin also has vanilla kinks since he treats sex as a way to feel connected to you. His sex drive is low actually, sex once a week is okay and he doesn’t masturbate much.

His biggest kink is Pet Play, call him bunny as you fuck into him or as he fucks into you. Either way, he’ll melt into a puddle.

He also likes to some Nipple Play, he likes you touching his pecs and kneading or teasing it. He also sucks on your nipple when he’s on top of you.

His Biggest no no is Sex Toys during a session, he is okay with you using it outside it as a way to pleasure yourself but he prefers giving you pleasure himself without the use of any objects.

One thing he’d really like to try though is Cum Play and Pec Fucking he wants you to fuck his pecs and cum on it his chest, smearing your own cum at his pecs. He also wants you to kiss him with his cum on your mouth.

Aftercare with Changbin is a very thorough clean up and check up session, he makes sure to make the bed comfy and clean to sleep on. If he topped he’d like to clean his cum of you, if he bottomed he cleans it himself but wouldn't mind if you wanted to clean it yourself.

Overall, Changbin is scary but really just a softie inside. He opts to care for you a lot since he doesn't like seeing you get hurt!

Hwang Hyunjin

Prefers to top because he likes to feel you around him, Hyunjin is a lazy dom honestly. He just lays down and watch you ride his cock — if he doesn't like the speed, he slaps your ass or that one time he decided to slap your dick.

I know most of y’all see him as a switch with a sub preference but I beg to differ— He is a dom in disguise :s

When Hyunjin wants sex he just grabs you away from where you guys get caught and lead you to a bedroom where fun times could happen.

He always like to see you on your knees, staring up at him. He also likes to see you choke on his cock too, because even he knows he has a big one. He likes it when things get messy as he tug on your hair while you were sucking him off.

He likes seeing your tears whenever he hits the back of your throat because he thinks you look ethereal when your crying — especially when you stare up at him when you have tears flowing down your cheeks.

Sometimes he calls you his "fucktoy" or his "cocksleeve" because it turns him on tenfolds especially when you obediently nod and agree to him.

Hyunjin also likes to suck you off especially if it's a way to tease you, he is very skilled at it apparently. He doesn't want you to come inside his mouth though, if you do then expect some sort of punishment.

He doesn't have a preferred nickname, but if you call him "daddy" he wouldn't be opposed to it — because he knows those titles hold power over you.

Hyunjin also likes to make out randomly. One time, one of the members caught both of you clearly getting it on the couch and his tongue basically shoved down your mouth. He likes it messy really. The member who say both of you was scarred though.

His sex drive isn’t that high but if you wanna fuck every day his down for it but if not it could be atleast 3-2 times a week.

He doesn't really like bottoming much, but one time he teased you by spreading himself and showing you his pretty pink hole. But in the end he still fucked you.

Even though he’s a lazy dom, he still always manage to turn you dumb just from the sheer size of his manhood. He also keeps a lot of toys around so expect to have a vibrator to be on your dick when you’re riding him. If you keep stopping or halting though he’ll change positions so he could fuck you hard instead.

His biggest kink is Blowjobs (Receiving or Giving) because he likes you to choke on his dick or he likes to just suck your cock. Bondage (Giving), he likes tying you up and seeing you all pretty and bare just for him. He even bought some nipple clamps and cockrings just so he could use them on you.

Hyunjin also takes pictures of you when he ties you up (with your consent of course) so that he could jerk off to them when he’s on tour or just away from you in general.

Hyunjin’s biggest no no is anything to do with piercing your skin — knives and needles, etc. He doesn't want to make you feel extreme pain because he wants to give you pleasure not pain. He spanks you sometimes but not to hard.

One thing that Hyunjin wants is to see you wearing a lingerie because he thinks that you’d look pretty wearing them. He would drool a bit seeing you so sexy like that.

Aftercare with Hyunjin is soft as fuck, he would baby you and won’t allow you to do anything. He treats you like a prince and makes sure you’re the most comfy after doing the deed.

Overall, Hyunjin is lazy in bed but he can snap and he will not hesitate to give you the rough treatment — Doesn’t matter how tired he is, he will destroy that ass.

Han Jisung

Pure Switch, can top or bottom — can also dom or sub. But it depends on his mood, if in a mood where he’s a bit angry or if you were being bratty — he’d punish you for it and if he’s angry, he’d opt for angry sex wherein he’d fuck you against the bedroom wall or just fuck you on the bed roughly and in doggy style.

“The birthday twins are switches y’all.” - Me quoting because I see so many bottom Jisung or Felix.

If he’s feeling a bit tired or he’s more soft, he’d rather let you do all the work. Softly, just laying down — letting out moans and whines as you fucked him.

He isn’t much of a brat when he’s feeling subby because he’s eager to please you in any way he can. He can still be bratty though, so expect some heat back. If you punish him though, he’d be quite giggly afterwards.

When domming, he likes being quick and rough — wanting to just hear your pleas for more, he also likes messing with your body — he squeezes your nipples or squeezes your cock — he does anything he can too make you writhe underneath him.

He also likes using toys — you guys have a collection of cock rings, different sizes of vibrators and dildos, ropes and handcuffs, a gag, blindfolds and buttplugs. Buttplugs are his favourites, you’ll see why later-.

Jisung has lots of fun power bottoming especially this one time that he stuck the largest vibrator you both had into you and placed it on a high setting. He rode you with a grin as tears fell from your face, before he wiped them with his fingers and kissed you to ease down the stretch and constant vibrations.

His biggest kinks is filling you up with his seed or getting filled up by your cum, he likes the feeling of being filled and wearing a buttplug to keep it in. He very much likes to fill you up to the brim and keeping you plugged up. It gives him the sense that you belong to him.

He also enjoys tying you up, so that he could ride you teasingly or fuck into you relentlessly, Jisung also likes to tease you in public — So expect some ass groping or thigh groping.

His biggest no no is Weapon Play — either with a gun or a knife because it’s too dangerous for him. He hates playing with these because things could go wrong and he wouldn't want both of you to end up in the ER.

One thing, I think that he would think about a lot is threesomes — he would ask if you were opposed to it or not cuz if not then expect Minho to show up on both of your doorstep one night.

Aftercare with Jisung is 80% cuddles and affection, 19% talking/praising and 1% actual cleaning, because he would be too lazy to get up after sex. He would just lay both of you down and praise you for either fucking him well or you being a good boy for him.

Overall, Jisung is a switch with a rough dom and a obedient sub tendencies. He will take care of you well and hopefully you do the same to him~

Lee Felix

Pure Switch can top or bottom — or dom and sub. But unlike Jisung, it depends on his partner not his mood. If you’re a sub/bottom, he’ll happily dom/top you and vice versa.

B-day Twins switches supremacy and y’all can't tell me otherwise 🤨

When you’re a switch, he’ll have sex with you depending on what position, you want — Felix always wants to make sure you, his partner gets the best fuck of their life. Wanna feel him clenching around you? He’ll happily bottom for you. Want his cock deep inside you? He can make it happen too.

When subbing, Felix is an obedient sub — ready to always please you, he never becomes bratty since all he wants is to make you feel good. He would follow your every instruction clearly. Felix is also amazing at blowjobs and has learned to minimize his gagreflex so you can fuck into his mouth without worrying of hurting him too much.

When domming, Felix is a dom based on how you like it — if you want him soft or a hard dom, he can be both. When you like him soft, he gives you praises and makes sure that your legs aren't wobbly the next day. When you like him hard — then he fucks you hard, grips your hair as he’s ramming into you. Loving your moans, whines and grunts of pleasure because it reminds him that he is making you feel good.

He always complains how small his hands is because he can't finger you properly.

He always likes to try out new kinks with you. You both tried kitten play, so coming home to a Felix with cat ears and tail buttplug was shocking and a huge turn on at the same time. He also wanted to try out a collar and leash with you, so as he rails into you he could pull the leash and pull you back on his cock. Both of you agreed to try more of those from time to time.

He has a unusually high sex drive, it isn’t Minho level high but it was high enough that you could fuck twice in one day. He asks you to fuck in a funny way too, “Babe, wanna fuck?”

His biggest kink is marking (giving or receiving) he likes leaving a lot of marks on you. So usually after sex. Yours or his body is full of bruises and bite marks — since when he goes to hard on you he sinks his teeth down on different parts of your body. He also begs you to mark him when your on top.

He also likes rimming, he is very whiny when you fuck him with his tongue. He always likes to feel your wet muscle against backside. He also likes eating you out, he spreads your legs sometimes too much that you have to say it out then he goes like “Oh shit, sorry.” then resumes to eating you out.

His biggest no no is Degradation, he doesn't like calling you names like that even when he is being a hard dom, he prefers to praise you dirtily like, “You look so fucking good speared on my cock, pup.”

One thing that Felix would try with you is Choking. He wants you to choke him while have sex or for him to choke you but he needs proper guidance for that cus he doesn't wanna accidentally kill you during the session.

Aftercare with Felix is full of him cheering you up with jokes cuz he doesn't wanna let you experience dom drop or sub drop. He will also tell you pick-up lines teasingly to make you smile and laugh.

Overall, Felix is a simp for their partner therefore would also be what his partner prefers him to be on bed, whether a top or a bottom, a dom or a sub. Felix has the ability to adjust!

Kim Seungmin

Top, he doesn’t like bottoming but willing to power bottom, very rare though. Dom, don’t even try to make him submit — he’ll put you back in your place for even thinking about it. He has hard dom tendencies but soft dom on more sensual nights.

Yes, I know that most of you see Seungmin as a sub (Whoever you are come fite me fr /j)

Seungmin doesn’t like to be topped nor does he liked to be dommed, try it and you’ll get a punishment. He’d make sure you’re limping for days to come.

Seungmin is a sadist, he likes punishing you and he gets off on you struggling or crying. He wouldn’t hesitate to get on top of you and just fuck you senseless to just see your pretty tears.

Oh, Seungmin hates brats so don’t even try. You’ll be either getting harsh spanking or on your knees — making you choke on his dick. He would edge you until you become a babbling mess. So beware brats, this puppy would immediately make work of you.

He also likes humiliating you, especially when someone points out that he’s the bottom/sub in the relationship. He would argue with that person calmly before he grabs you and show you on your knees for them.

He doesn’t have a high sex drive but if you really want him too, he could go atleast once everyday.

Seungmin likes to cockwarm you, it is especially common during cuddling sessions where he would just spread your cheeks or pull down your pants for him to just insert himself inside you.

He also like a bit of somnophilia but you guys have to talk that over and he needs your clear consent for it but expect to be woken up with him thrusting shallowly inside you if you agree.

On more softer nights, either him or you is tired then he is more caring — giving you praises and giving you soft touches. He would opt for cockwarming when extremely tired or just slow sex.

His biggest kinks are: Punishments and Dacryphilia, he likes punishing you — he doesn’t like brats but he likes giving you punishments from time to time. He likes making you cry because he thinks you’re pretty when you cry but from pleasure and slight pain of course.

He also likes placing a collar on you, but if you’re not into that he wouldn’t mind it.

His biggest no no is Blood Play, he likes marking you up but he wouldn't like to cut your skin and he doesn’t like making you bleed.

One thing that he’d like to try with you is gagging you with his used boxers. Idk, he just finds the sight of it, very hot. He’d be even more willing to make sure that hole of yours is gaping for days.

Aftercare with Seungmin is him checking up on you fully, making sure he didn’t hurt you too much and he’d place some cream on any bruises he made. He wants to make your mental state after sex is intact. And afterwards you’d have some cuddles while cockwarming (if you want), whispering words like “You’re so good for me, love.”

Overall, Seungmin is dom that doesn't like being told what to do, he’d always asks if he was treating you too roughly and he’ll tone it down a bit.

Yang Jeongin

Soft Top and Soft Dom, he doesn't like to bottom because he prefers to take care of you especially since he always get babied by his hyungs.

Dominant Jeongin Supremacy, if you think he is a sub (come fight me 😭 /j)

He always babies you in bed even if you’re older than him, he calls you sweet petnames like "bubs", "baby", and "sweetheart". Things like those.

He used to be very confused on what to do during sex, so he just does things that make you let out noises — like pinching your thighs, slapping your ass lightly, jerking you off slowly and kneading your chest.

Now though, he’s much more experienced and takes time teasing, and getting you riled up. He always slowly strip himself off his clothes because he knows you whine at him being slow.

He always kiss every part of you —from your jawline, to your cock even down to your entrance — his lips had touched every single nook and cranny of your body.

He also is a bit possessive of you sometimes, especially when one of his hyungs is a bit too touchy — he sometimes gets close to you and grabs your chin to kiss you possessively, glaring at his said hyung while lip locked. — he isn't shy when it comes to what’s his. Said member didn't appreciate the upfront make up session though-

Jeongin always praises during sex, “Such a good boy for me...”, “You take me so well, baby..” are just few examples, he also says “I love you.” to you during the session.

He isn't much of a hard dom to you, the hardest he got was where he fucked you and left you after he came — leaving you to jerk yourself off sadly, to cum. He felt bad after doing that so he came back a bit later to fuck you again and this time he allowed you to cum. This happened when you were being bratty.

Jeongin is pretty vanilla when it comes to kinks, but I guess sometimes he has some wild fantasies. He has a normal sex drive, he always calls you when he needs it.

His biggest kinks are: Praises (Giving) and Foreplay. He likes to give you praises because in his eyes, you’re always his good boy. He likes foreplay because he likes to takes things slow and sensual, he likes to tease you a lot too.

Another thing he likes is marking you. He especially likes it when another one of the members see it on your neck, seeing their reaction gives him great amusement.

His biggest no no’s are threesomes, foursomes and anything to do with sharing you. Jeongin doesn't like it one bit, if you even think about a threesome — expect him to teach you a lesson.

One thing, he’d like to try is rimming. He wants to eat you out a lot especially since he is fascinated with your ass. He squeezes it alot too and now he wants to fuck you with his tongue.

Aftercare with Jeongin is a fun one, after a short break after sex, he’d get on top of you and starts to tickle you not caring about the cum on your stomach or his cum inside you (if you agree on taking it raw)

Overall, Jeongin is a soft dom that makes sure you feel the most pleasure he can give, he also likes to praise you and makes you feel appreciated and special to him.

#kpop x male reader #stray kids x male reader #skz smut #dom stray kids #dom!skz #kpop imagines #stray kids imagines #x male reader #gay #lgbtq #skz #kpop x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids headcanons #kpop headcanons #switch!reader #kpop smut #switch stray kids #mlm fic

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kohanayaki · 3 years ago

Text

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 2

As you reconcile with Sirius, he reminisces on how you came to be friends despite a rather rocky start (mostly told through flashbacks taking place in the Marauders era).

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 2 .:Pranks and Past Prejudices:.

~Previously~

“I was about to see if you were awake,” Sirius admitted with a small grin, “Seems we both had the same idea.”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, stepping aside slightly so you could come in. If the Sirius Black from your school days had offered you into his room in the dead of night, you would have slapped him upside the head; but things were different now, and so were the two of you.

However, as you glanced around the room you almost laughed at how remarkably unchanged it was, and why wouldn't it be? He hadn't lived here since he was sixteen, and he was only living here now because he preferred this house to an Azkaban cell by a small fraction. While the rest of the house was set in deep tones of obsidian and gray, save for the green Slytherin theme of his younger brother's room, Sirius' room was all warm shades of red and gold, Gryffindor paraphernalia covering every inch of it from Quidditch trophies and old banners to a tapestry he had stolen from the Great Hall when they'd won the house cup that year.

The room was littered with memories of your school life— a set of charred robes from when he and James had drunkenly lit the Quidditch field hoops on fire, an old Beater's bat that he had broken in half during the Cup finals, an old Gobstones set you used to play with in the courtyard, and stacks of classic rock records that you and Remus had gifted him for the holidays. A muggle toolbox sat in the corner of the room from when he'd made improvements to his enchanted motorbike that couldn't be done with magic, which you were certain his parents were mortified by.

Posters of bikini-clad women were plastered across the wallpaper, and you recalled the day he told you his mother had a fit when she realized he'd used a permanent sticking charm on them so she couldn't take them down. Said posters were still present, but mostly covered up by all the photos of him and his friends from their school and early Order days— the only noticeable sign of change you could see from his moving back in. It was truly like some sort of time capsule.

As soon as you tore your eyes away from the room and turned to focus on its owner, a tense silence fell between you two. This was the first time you had seen Sirius in over a decade. The last time you two spoke, he was in chains being led away to Azkaban. What was there to say? How could you possibly think things could go back to the way they were?

“Sirius,” your voice cracked with emotion as you said his name, and when you saw the look in his eyes, so similar to the look he'd given you when he was in that horrible barbed cage during his trial, the dam just broke.

You practically threw yourself at him, sobbing quietly into his shoulder as the fabric of his shirt bunched up in your trembling hands

“I'm sorry,” you said, “I am so, so sorry I didn't believe you, Sirius. I didn't know, I didn't—”

“(Y/n), it's okay,” Sirius said softly.

You almost jumped at his gentle touch, his arm wrapping around your waist and one hand coming up to pet your hair. It hurt him to see you like this, that you went through this much because of him.

“There was no way you could have known,” he said, resting his chin on top of your head as tears continued to stream down your face, “There was no proof that I wasn't the Secret Keeper. We'd decided to make it that rat at the last second. Only James and Lily knew and, well, they couldn't exactly attest to my innocence.”

Hatred bubbled up in his chest at his own mention of Pettigrew, but he forced it down for you, his expression softening as soon as he looked at you. “That was bad judgment on my part, I suppose,” he said in an attempt to lighten the mood, although twelve years in prison was a difficult matter to joke about.

“I should have just believed you,” you muttered into his collar. Sirius' other hand reached out to cup your face, wiping the last few tears from your cheeks.

“Come now, even Moony thought I'd done it,” he said, a small smirk finding its way to his face, “I know what it looked like. . . I don't blame any of you for not believing me. So please, don't blame yourself for this, (Y/n). You're still my best friend.”

“Oh, now you've done it,” you sniffled, laughing despite yourself as fresh tears spilled over. Sirius laughed along with you and yo u could feel the sound reverberate through his chest, rich and melodic. Warm.

He wrapped both his arms around you, holding you tight as you two chuckled like a couple of idiots, standing there glassy-eyed in the middle of his room. If anyone else had bore witness to the scene they'd have thought you'd gone mad, but in that moment you couldn't care less. Your body had been buckling under the weight of your guilt and how much you had missed him. Hearing him say that he still considered you his best friend. . . that was more than you could have ever asked for.

Sirius swelled with pride as he saw he was able to make you smile, something he'd long considered a small victory. He couldn't believe how much your relationship had changed. If someone had told him all those years ago that you would turn out to be someone he couldn't imagine his life without, he wouldn't have believed them. But he supposed life was unexpected like that. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1973 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since the day you'd stood up to him, James Potter found himself increasingly curious about you. Of course he and his friends continued to pick on Snape, but when you were around to fend them off it became more and more difficult to do so, something that the leader of the self-proclaimed Marauders decided was cumbersome.

James insisted that to get to Snape they would have to take you down too, since you were so keen on protecting him.

“We need to cut the head off the snake,” he had said.

And so, slowly but surely, James shifted the cross hairs of his mischief-making from Severus Snape to you. It started out small; a Bat-bogey hex here, some heat sensitive combustion power under your cauldron there. What he didn't expect in the slightest was for you to actually retaliate with pranks of your own.

Quidditch season had just ended as the year came to a close, and James, who was supposed to be helping clean out the Gryffindor tent, was lying on his back and fiddling about with a golden snitch he'd found wedged in the wooden scaffolding. His head perked up as he saw the Lily across the pitch, walking next to you and chatting. He clearly couldn't care less about what, as he had no problem interrupting your conversation.

“Hey, Evans!” he hollered, heading towards you two.

As soon as Lily spotted him she rolled her eyes.

“And now we're walking faster,” she muttered, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you along.

“Aw come on, I just wanna talk,” he said, quickly catching up with you. Before long he had jogged a few paces ahead, turning around to block your path. “Hey,” he said with a smirk. He was wearing his Quidditch practice uniform, broom in hand.

“Merlin, you are nothing if not persistent,” Lily huffed.

“What can I say? I'm a Chaser~”

“Goodbye, James,” Lily deadpanned at the pun, and he quickly moved in front of her again.

“Wait, wait! Just watch this, okay?” he insisted.

You bit back a smirk, grateful he hadn't paid you any mind until now.

“Trust me, you've never seen anything like this before,” James said cockily, willing his broomstick to hover a few feet off the ground and hauling one leg over to mount it. However, as soon as his arse hit the wood, his entire body phased right through it. He groaned as his tailbone made unceremonious contact with the ground, his broomstick now hovering above him. As soon as he looked up the stick dropped and plonked him on the head, solid again.

You burst out laughing, revealing your wand that had been obstructed from his view by your sleeve.

“(Y/n)!” Lily looked at you in shock, hitting you in the arm playfully but unable to fight the laughter that rose in her chest. It was nice to see him get a harmless taste of his own medicine.

“Well, you were right, Potter,” the redhead said, “I've never seen anything like that before.”

James' face flushed with embarrassment while you two walked away, gathering his broom and whatever remained of his pride. You wouldn't get the better of him again.

Or, at least that's what he told himself until the beginning of your fourth year.

________________________________________________________

James strode down the corridors leading to the Great Hall with a pep in his step. It had been an unusually peaceful morning; despite having slept in, he wasn't in much of a rush to join his friends who had already made their way to breakfast.

The real reason for his quick pace was because he couldn't wait to see your reaction to his latest prank. It was a classic, amped up a bit thanks to a tube of ink from one of the “magic” markers at Zonkos. He hoped you liked your new look, because you were going to be saddled with it for a while.

As he walked through the courtyard he shot a wink to a fourth year Hufflepuff girl he recognized from his Divination class and she covered her hand with her mouth, turning away from him slightly as she tried to hold back the giggles that spilled from her lips. He gave himself a pat on the back, oblivious to the fact that the laughter was directed at him, an unawareness that stayed with him up until the moment he threw the doors to the Great Hall open. The gasps and laughter that followed him only grew as he sat down at his usual spot. Even his friends were staring at him, wide-eyed and unblinking.

“What?” James ran a hand through his hair in confusion, “What are you guys—!!”

As his hair flopped in front of his face his peripheral vision was curtained with the brightest shade of neon turquoise he'd ever seen.

“No,” he said, “no, no, no way!”

He grabbed one of the food trays, dumping the pastries that were on top onto the table. Peter squeaked as he caught a few that were about to fall, setting them down quietly on his own plate.

James stared at his reflection in the shiny metal, and sure enough his once pristine brunette hair was colored the bright blue of the magic marker whose contents he'd dumped into your shower bottle the night before.

“Did you like the shampoo?” a voice behind him asked innocently.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned around to see you, your hair colored the same bright blue shade. Now he was thoroughly confused.

“It smells nice, right?”

“How did you. . . if I. . . why is your hair—”

“A simple connection charm on the shampoo bottle,” you said, “anyone who touches it receives the same benefits and results of the next person who uses it within three hours. In this case, you landed yourself a dye job and a hell of a keratin treatment, so you're welcome. The spell was already on the bottle to begin with; pretty convenient when you have dorm mates that can all save on buying product, and besides it can be kind of nice to skip a hair wash day every once in a while. I suppose I should thank you, I didn't have to do any shopping or sneaking around for this one. You did all the work for me.”

You put your hand to your chin, pretending to study him for a moment.

“You should take care of that fast, though” you said nonchalantly, gesturing to his hair, “you don't look nearly as cute as I do in this color, Potter.”

To further prove your point, you waved your wand around the crown of your head, and with a quick utter of 'aufero hue' the blue in your hair seemed to melt right off the strands, leaving behind your natural (h/c) locks. The color swirled around the tip of your wand in an aqueous state for a moment before you flung it aside. It landed with a splat! against the Gryffindor table, staining a section of the wood that same shade of bright blue as if it had grown that way.

“I'd do it for you myself, but I don't want to,” you smirked, “ Perhaps you could take a few remedial classes to learn the color-leeching charm. Have fun figuring something out!”

And with that you flounced away, leaving behind a very embarrassed, very blue, and very reluctantly impressed James Potter.

He may just have found himself a proper rival.

Sirius scoffed from where he sat.

“Oh please, the stupid charm can't be that hard to do,” he said, taking out his wand.

“Not that I don't have faith in you, mate, but I'm probably better off seeing if Slughorn has anything for this,” James said.

“Why don't you just soak your head in some Valerian water? That's what takes the color out of potions, right?”

“Peter, he might go bald if he does that.”

“Oh.”

_______________________________________________________

James would go on to land a few good jokes on you too. There was one night where you had snuck into the Prefect's bathroom and emerged with a mermaid tail, which was pretty awesome until you realized you had no way of getting out of the tub. From then on, you and James would continue to try and get the jump on one another, marking the start of your now-infamous fourth year prank war. It entertained the students and infuriated the faculty. Gradually, your pranks on one another became more light-hearted, meant to amuse the other person and make them laugh rather than actually hurt or humiliate them.

“Very funny, (L/n),” James said as he walked up to you, his body turned around 180 degrees from the waist up so he had to shuffle backwards to face you. You laughed, nearly choking on your pumpkin juice as you saw your handy work.

“What are you, five?”

“Right, because you're so much more mature stalking and bullying my friends,” you quipped back.

“I really don't understand how Snivelus is your friend.”

“Severus,” you said crossly, “and for the record, I really don't understand how Remus is yours either. He seems like a nice guy.”

“Har har,” James rolled his eyes, “Now would you turn me the right way 'round already? I've got Quidditch practice.”

“Nah, I think you're fine to play like this.”

“Honestly? Not a bad tactic. I can cover my blind spot and stare at my own ass while I fly.”

“Who's five now?” you grinned.

As the months went on, instead of storming over to each other and slinging insults, your interactions with James became more akin to playful banter. And frankly, Sirius didn't get it. You were a Slytherin, and a pureblood at that. Hell, you were a descendant of one of the 28 pureblood families. Everything about you went against everything he believed in and relished in getting away from each year when he would leave home to go to school. You were in the same house as those stupid blood purists, you probably were one yourself—

“You're glaring.”

Sirius blinked, snapping out of his stupor as Remus nudged him in the shoulder. He said nothing, slowly returning to eating his dinner as he tore his eyes away from you, sitting at the Slytherin table with Snivelus, Evan Rosier, and his younger brother of all people. He stabbed at his roast potatoes a little too harshly and his friends traded looks among themselves.

“You alright there, mate?” James asked cautiously.

“Fantastic,” Sirius said, shoving another forkful of potatoes into his mouth to avoid saying anything unsavory as he spotted you heading towards their table.

“Coming to the library today, Remus?” you asked the boy to his right who looked up at you in surprise.

“Oh, sure thing,” he said, “I'm off for the night.”

“Great, we can study for Arithmancy then,” you said. Remus nodded at your suggestion and you gave him a dazzling smile, walking off with your books.

“Since when did you two get so chummy?” Sirius bristled.

Remus rolled his eyes.

“We're just studying for the upcoming mid marks,” he said, “They’re proficient in Ancient Runes and History of Magic. As a study partner it's. . . refreshing.”

“Oi, are you calling us stupid?” James rose a brow.

“Your words, not mine,” Lupin grinned. He saw Sirius' bothered expression and sighed, collecting his things.

“You might get on if you bothered to get to know them,” he told Sirius out of the others' earshot, slinging his book bag over his shoulder before heading off in your direction.

You only continued to grow inadvertently closer to James throughout your fourth year, your prank battle coming to its epic conclusion with the two of you joining forces against some particularly nasty upperclassmen. Your practical jokes subsided, your quips and passing insults were traded for real conversations and walking each other to class. You hated to admit it, but he'd grown on you— especially with him letting up considerably on bullying Severus and annoying Lily lately.

All the while, the closer you got to James the more irritated his best friend became. In Sirius' mind, the more time you were spending with James the less time James was spending with him. They hardly hung out alone anymore. And since James started hanging out with you he started mellowing out, which made Lily start hanging out with him, which made him even more tame. Sirius just wanted his best friend back.

“You do realize that issue would largely be resolved if you weren't so bothered by hanging out with both of them together, right?” Lupin had brought up one night as Sirius was airing out his frustrations.

“I'm not going to bother making friends with someone whose family is so wrapped up in blood politics they forget to be human beings first. Trust me, I've met their mother enough times to know.”

“Have you ever asked them about it?” Remus pressed.

“I don't really need to, do I? They're a (L/n). Open your eyes, Moony!”

Remus' brow furrowed, a shine in his eyes akin to sympathy as he regarded Sirius.

“Perhaps it's you that needs to clear your vision, friend.”

A/N: Thank you all so much for the unexpected early support on this story! I have a lot planned for it~ If you’d like to be added to the taglist just let me know !

Read chapter 3 here!

Taglist: @blackpinkdolan @sleep-i-ness @parker-natasha

#harry potter #the marauders #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x slytherin!reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #regulus black x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders #severus snape x reader #severus snape #multi chapter #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #post azkaban sirius

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paterson-blue · 3 years ago

Text

Summary: Sackler's working on his impulse control. No, really--he is, he swears. It's just a lot harder when it comes to you.

Word Count: 8,432

Warnings: fem!AFAB!reader, angst with a happy ending, fluff, sexual tension, friends to lovers (but moves into established relationship), domestic shit, the regularly scheduled Sackler chaos, Sackler is soft, an anxious boy; a nervous boy, excessive gatorade drinking (it's his brand), classic Sackler banter, hair braiding, teasing, handjobs, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), slight nose action, unprotected PIV sex (no chance of pregnancy), cock warming, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint) — let me know if I need to add anything else!

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

You’d entered his life slowly, inch by inch, sneaking into his consciousness until suddenly you were all he thought about. When he’d decided to wave at you across the aisle of the bodega all those months ago he’d had no idea of what the future would hold. All he knew was that he’d been seeing you there every day like clockwork; same time, same aisle.

He always grabbed a red Gatorade and you always grabbed some sort of sugary drink of your own. Occasionally the two of you seemed to move in sync, opening the fridge, reaching up, grabbing your item, and slamming the door all in one motion together. Adam thought it was kinda funny, two strangers' lives lining up in such a way, being part of each other’s daily routine. So one day he waves, a goofy grin on his face as he points to his signature bottle of red goodness.

You blink at him in surprise before almost shyly smiling back, your eyes bright, and oh—Adam’s stomach does a dangerous little flip-flop.

He waves at you for two weeks straight until it’s not enough anymore. He comes into the bodega one day determined to talk to you but with no concrete plan of how to do it. He’s a little early in his excitement, and he finds himself having to aimlessly browse the little store like a fuckin’ idiot before the familiar bell dings and he sees you come through the door. He half-trips over to the drink aisle, trying not to come across like he’s following you around, even though he definitely is.

You’re studying the various beverages in the fridge, mouth scrunched up as you consider them. He only allows himself a moment to admire you, not wanting you to catch him staring. He steps closer, boots thudding on the floor, making you look up at him. Now’s your chance, Sackler, a voice echoes in his head.

“What’s today’s flavor?” he hears himself say, and he feels relief wash over him when you give him that pretty smile.

“Oh, I’m not sure.” You sigh, settling your hands on your hips. “Maybe just water.”

“What?! Bullshit! You never get water!” Oh, so he’s just gonna double down on being a creep, huh? Saying he knows exactly what you get every day? Adam wants to smack the palm of his hand against his forehead.

But then you’re letting out a laugh, shaking your head at him. “Well maybe sometimes I like to change things up. We can’t all stick to red gatorade every damn day.”

Your comeback makes Adam feel half-giddy, both from the easy banter and from the acknowledgement that you’ve been paying just as much attention to him as he has to you.

“Well, I’ll have you know that red flavored Gatorade has special health benefits that others just don’t.” He states, leaning against the cool glass of the fridge. You’ve gone back to browsing, but you keep shooting him amused little looks; his ego crows at your attention.

“Is that so?” you ask, humoring him as you indeed select a bottle of water from the bottom shelf.

He’s nodding when you straighten back up, and points accusingly at the bottle of water. “Can’t believe you’re going for the boring shit.”

“Well,” you shrug, holding the bottle to your chest, “I’m feeling pretty boring today. But I dunno, tomorrow might be different. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

She doesn’t mean anything, Adam tries to tell himself. The two of you had been there together every day for the past two months. It’s not abnormal for you to assume he’ll show up again the next day. But still, your words, the between-the-lines invitation for him to see you again, makes his heart leap.

“I guess I will,” he responds firmly before grabbing his regular gatorade from the shelf. This time the two of you walk up to the register together, and before Adam can stop himself he’s digging into his jeans pocket, tugging out a couple crumpled bills. “Hey kid, lemme pay for that.”

You hesitate, but nod, chirping out a “thank you” in that sweet voice of yours. Adam slaps down the money, throwing in a pack of sunflower seeds along with the drinks. If it’s just to make the transaction last two seconds longer—to make him standing there with you two seconds longer—then he’ll keep it to himself. Soon, you’ve got your water and you're waving a goodbye as you step out of the store and onto the busy sidewalk.

Adam follows at a distance; watches you walk away, your purse slung over your shoulder, water already open and pressed to your lips. He watches until you disappear into the crowd, and then he’s sighing, looking down at his feet. It’s not until he’s trudging back home that he realizes he never even got your fuckin’ name.

_______________________________________

It’s another day before he gets your name. A week before the two of you leave together, leaning against the wall outside and sipping your respective drinks; two before he’s asking for your number. For some reason, you actually give it to him.

He’s nervous to text you first, which is unlike him. Sure, in the past he would get a little anxious, not wanting to make a complete fool out of himself, but he still went through with it. But it takes him an entire day to shoot you a message, asking if you wanted to go sit in the nearby park after the bodega stop. Your answer is an immediate yes, and suddenly Adam is eying the hole in the collar of his green t-shirt, wondering if he should change.

It’s not a date. The bodega isn’t a date, the park isn’t a date—the walks and lunches, coffee shops and movie nights in the weeks following aren’t dates either. So what if he cleaned the absolute shit out of his apartment before you came over for dinner? So what if he wore his nice jeans and black dress shirt, sleeves all rolled up to show off his forearms? So fuckin’ what?

It’s not a date.

It’s not a date until, a month into all your not-date’s, you’re standing at the sink with him as the two of you tag-team-clean the dishes. He’s washing, you’re drying, and there’s an easy rhythm flowing until a soapy plate slips from your grasp as he hands it to you. The dish smacks into the water-filled sink, creating a splash that soaks the both of you. You inhale a loud gasp, laughter already in your voice.

He seems to get the brunt of it, the front of his green plaid shirt darkening as warm, sudsy water bathes the fabric. His shoulders hunch up in surprise, and you’re giggling, covering your mouth with your hand. “Shit, I’m so sorry, that was an accident I swear.”

“Oh I call bullshit,” he growls, a grin spreading over his face. He yanks his arms up high, wriggling his fingers over your head so that water and suds drip onto you. “Pay back!” He crows, stalking towards you. You can easily duck under his arm to sideswipe him, to escape his grasp, but you don’t.

Instead, you swat at him with the dish towel in your hands, laughing as you shuffle backwards. “You better fuckin’ not, Sackler! I’ll scream!” You make idle threats at him but he doesn’t listen. He steps forward, forward, forward, hands dripping water all over your hair and shoulders as you shriek.

“I’mmmmm gonna getcha!” he sing-songs, jumping towards you, the wood floor creaking under his big feet. He’s got you cornered now, your back against the wall—ha! His arms swoop down in an attempt to engulf you, aiming to press his wet hands and shirtfront against you, but your hands fly out to grasp his wrists to halt him.

“I just bought this shirt!”

“It’s soapy water, it’s just gonna get more clean!”

“Adam!” You laugh, your voice betraying a tone of fond exasperation. And oh, you’re all smiley and breathless, eyes shining up at him—you’re so fuckin’ pretty. Most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, lighting up his kitchen and his heart and his whole fuckin’ life with the brightest, warmest sunshine he’s ever felt. He stares at you, admiring you freely, not able to help it. You don’t seem to mind; you’re looking straight back at him, thumbs rubbing little circles on his wrists where water was trickling down to his forearms.

Adam’s never really been one for impulse control. That shit’s just never appealed to him. What was the point? If you’re gonna do something, just fuckin’ do it—get it out there in the open and see what happens. Yeah, sometimes things don’t go well, or—okay, they go really fuckin’ bad—but sometimes things turn out for the better! And the sweet feeling of elation whenever his bet, whenever trusting his gut, pays off? It was worth the risk.

So he lunges down, capturing your face in his wet palms as he presses his lips to yours. And shit, by some strange miraculous twist of fate you’re actually kissing him back. It makes him press forward, shoulders scrunched up and back curved towards you, angling himself for you to take. He thinks he could die happy, finally having your mouth against his, finally holding you the way he’s needed since the first fuckin’ day he saw you.

You sigh into his mouth and he gobbles it up greedily, sucking at your bottom lip, full on moaning when your tongue swipes against his cupid’s bow. When you insist on pulling away to get some air he stays close to share your breath, brushing his nose against yours. You hum out a pleased little noise and he wants to melt into the floor. He thinks about doing it—about sinking to his knees and pressing his face into your stomach, holding you tight, tight, tight.

He thinks he might have, if you hadn’t reached up to card your fingers through his hair, fingertips massaging deliciously at his scalp. He presses a needy little kiss to the corner of your mouth; your lips quirk upwards at his touch. When you break the silence it’s in a hushed tone, your hands sliding over his biceps. “That was nice.”

Adam grins, rubbing the tip of his nose over your cheekbone just because he can. “I can do better,” he promises cheekily, “Just gotta let me show you.”

You laugh, saying oh really? in a way that has him preening.

“Hell yeah. I’m a very well rounded individual.” He finally straightens back up, watching you with hopeful eyes, painfully shoving back the urge to ask you if you wanted to kiss him again.

“… I’ve got work tomorrow,” you finally say, and Adam nods, because he knows you do. You took your shit seriously. But oh, you’re reaching for his hand, and the relief he feels when you touch him is immediate. “But I'm free tomorrow night,” you tell him, your own eyes bright, waiting for him to take your offering—and there’s no way in hell he’s going to pass it up.

“Well good, because we’re having dinner. That back alley Thai place. And then I’ll take you out to that gross ice cream shop down the street you like so fuckin’ much.”

You nod, bouncing on your toes a little, and it’s so goddamn cute that Adam almost dips down to kiss you again. The most he lets himself do is rub the back of your hand with his thumb, watching you intently. “And I’m fuckin’ paying, don’t even think about bringing any money.”

You offer him a grin. “Alright. It’s a date.”

Adam nods, so fast he thinks he probably looks unhinged, but hey—that’s nothing new. “You bet your ass it’s a date, kid.”

An actual date. With you. It only took three months.

_______________________________________

So yeah. Impulse control.

Never been Adam’s thing.

It’s not that he doesn’t think about his actions. Okay, well, sure, sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he just goes with his gut and throws caution to the wind, like when he’d kissed you. He’d just known it was what he should do, and so he did it. He likes to think most of his impulsive decisions are perfectly logical and sound, even the ones that don’t work out. It’s not his fault if other people don’t always agree with what he does. This is how he’s lived his life all these years, and it’s worked out more often than not. Why change something that isn’t broken, or whatever the saying is.

Except. He meets you. And fuck, suddenly he’s overthinking every little urge, every little snap judgement—tight-rope walking the thread of fate. He’s on edge for the best of reasons; you’re the most wonderful thing he thinks has ever fuckin’ happened to him and there’s no goddamn way he’s going to jeopardize what the two of you have. He has to do this right, has to do things properly. He’s going to date the absolute shit outta you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

He likes it, really—hopping each little stepping stone that leads to more of you. Taking things slower than he has in ages, maybe ever. He knows, in the back of his mind, that if he flew into you at his usual gale force chaos, you’d accept him all the same. Because you’re good. You’re soft and sweet, and have turned his life into something golden and warm.

But you deserve more than his chaos. You were so gentle and vulnerable with him, and Adam—he wants to be the same way with you. For you. So he grapples with his impulses, shoving them down when they rear their ugly heads. He’s not gonna fuck this up, no matter how much his brain tries. And oh, does it try.

_______________________________________

For example, he almost tells you he loves you not two weeks into the course of dating you.

It’s not his fault, honest—or that’s what he tells himself. His feelings just like to…. overwhelm him. Endlessly.

See, he’d had a show—a play; one he’d been working on since before he’d waved at you in the bodega those months ago. You knew about it, sure. He’d talked about it (ranted about it) plenty of times. You always listened even if you had no clue what he was going on about, always gave him whatever he needed—whether that was being alone, or extra rehearsal time, or allowing him to flop into your couch and scream into the pillows.

Still, he hadn’t invited you to the opening night. Or any nights, actually. He was too nervous, as much as he hated to admit it—mostly about fucking things up if you were there. Honestly, the thought of you sitting, watching him, made his insides all… wriggly. And even if it was the good kind of wriggly, he’d be too hyper-aware of it, too distracted by it.

He feels guilty even if you don’t seem upset. You have brunch with him—yeah, he was doing fuckin’ brunch now. That shit was good—and then give him a goodbye kiss, telling him to “break a leg.” It makes him smile, and he insists on a couple more kisses, just for luck. And then he’s off to the final rehearsal before opening.

It goes off without a hitch, and Adam’s beyond elated—and relieved, and proud. As he scrubs off his sweat and makeup backstage, he can’t help but wish he had someone there to share his pride with. But he doesn’t have time to get into his head; there’s stupid fuckin’ rich people to schmooze outside, and the director had told him under no uncertain terms would he be in attendance.

Adam yanks on his tie as he makes his way through the theater’s halls towards the ballroom, not looking forward to the boring conversation and unnecessarily tiny food he had ahead of him. He tries to sneak his way through the crowded lobby area but it’s kind of difficult to be discreet with his sheer size—something that shouldn’t surprise him by now and yet does every single time. He forces out gentle smiles and humble “thank you’s” at the praise his performance receives, attempting to make his long legs work double time.

But then he spots something in his periphery. He’s not even sure what it is at first, really--just that it means something to him. It’s important. A flash of fabric as someone exits the large revolving doors, and there it is, that nagging in his head, that impulse. He veers off course without even thinking about it; fuck the schmoozing. Following that flutter of fabric, he shoves his way through the door and people, stumbling out onto the sidewalk. His dark eyes scan the busy street before landing on what his subconscious had been so attracted to.

You.

It stuns him at first, shocks him to silence--and not much can do that, if he’s being honest. You were here. Had you been here the whole time? Did you watch the whole thing? Were you just gonna leave? Adam thinks all these things at once, his mind a cacophony of noise, and suddenly he’s bellowing your name over the bustle of the crowd. He watches you jump, acknowledges the head turns he’s getting--he doesn’t give a fuck. You’re turning to look at him and he’s all but bounding over, zeroed in on you. You looked so goddamn gorgeous, the lights of the city casting multicolored glows over your skin.

“You’re here.” He says when he gets close enough, gaze bouncing all over you, not able to keep to one spot.

You give him a sheepish look, extending him just half a smile. “I… Yeah, I’m sorry. I wanted to come. I know you didn’t ask me to, but this show is so important to you and I--” You let out a small laugh, “--I wanted to support you, even if it was a secret?”

Adam’s chest fills with warmth, and his voice is noticeably quieter when he speaks again. “And you were just gonna leave without saying goodbye? What the fuck, kid?”

You shrug, but in a bashful way, not in a way where you’re blowing off his question. “Well, it wasn’t about me, you know? I wanted to be here for you, but until you were ready for me to be here, be here… I wasn’t wanting to, I don’t know--force your hand, or anything.”

And shit, if that doesn’t give Adam pause. He doesn’t think he’s ever had someone do something like this for him--support him without wanting something in return, without wanting recognition for their ‘good deed.’ You were giving him yourself even when he wasn’t around to acknowledge it or thank you for it. The words almost slip out of his mouth right then and there. I love you. It would be so simple.

They’re on the tip of his tongue, ready to tumble out in the open area between the two of you at a moment’s notice; he does the only thing he can think of to stop it from happening. He lunges forward, half yanking you to him as he slams his mouth down onto yours. It's… not as gentle as he intends, but he’s desperate, because the words are already leaving his lips in a muffled jumble. He’s kissing you on the crowded sidewalk like he’s fuckin’ starving for it, like he can’t breathe without it. Maybe he can’t. He sure isn’t stopping to find out.

“Adam--” you murmur into his mouth, and he grunts at you in response, which earns him a laugh. Your hands slip over his dress shirt, underneath his suit jacket, and he leans into your touch. You pull away from his lips, but press lingering kisses to his jaw, and Adam thinks maybe it’s an okay compromise. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close; says the only (other) thing he can think of--that he knows he has to get off his chest.

“I don’t wanna fuckin’ date anyone else. Don’t wanna kiss anyone else. Just you.” He makes sure to look at you when he says it, not caring how intense he comes across. If he can’t say that he loves you outright, he’ll do it in every other little way he can. “I wanna do boyfriend shit for you. Like—like make you canned soup when you’re sick and—and text you whenever I see a fuckin’ tree that reminds me of you.”

You smile up at him in that way that makes him feel ridiculously small and a million feet tall all at once. “Boyfriend shit, huh? Does that mean I need to start thinking of girlfriend shit to do?”

Adam nods briskly, but then pauses, his hands sliding up and down your back. “Only if you want to.” He tries to school his tone into something soft and neutral, trying to protect himself in case you say no.

But then you’re relaxing into his chest, resting your head over his thrumming heart. “I want to.”

He’s glad you can’t see his grin, and he holds you tighter to him, hoping you wont notice the way he’s literally fuckin’ vibrating with happiness. He wants to shout, wants to yell out at everyone passing by on the street. Hear that, everyone?! She’s my fuckin’ girlfriend now! Mine!! Ha!

“Do you wanna come back inside with me?” He asks instead, trailing his fingertips up and down your arm. “I have to go suck up to a bunch’a idiots so they’ll give the director some money. They might be willing to give more if I bring along some hot eye candy.”

You snort, pulling away from him; his gaze flits over your face, taking in your pleased smile and sparkling eyes. You were happy. He made you happy. It’s all he ever wants, really. You agree to coming with him, and he gives you his arm to hold onto as he escorts you back into the building, head held high with pride.

_______________________________________

Of course, it just makes things harder.

He’s swallowing down “I love you’s” left and fuckin’ right: when you pick him up from an audition and hand him a red gatorade. When you remember his lunch order from the café down the street. When you laugh at something dumb he’s said—a joke he knows isn’t that funny.

When, alternatively, you say Sackler in that exasperated-yet-fond tone whenever he’s said something annoying. When the two of you sit quietly in the living room together, each doing work, comfortable in the silence. When you pass behind him while he’s cooking and brush a gentle hand against his back, casual as can be.

He swallows the words down the first time he stays over at your place. It’d been an accident; he’d fallen asleep on the couch after getting back from an out-of-state visit to see his niece. He’d woken up in the morning to the smell of coffee, finding himself tucked under blankets. You’d come over when you saw that he was awake; brushed his hair out of his bleary eyes, said- “Good morning, sleepy head.”

He starts staying over a lot more after that, in your bed instead of the couch. Each time he wakes up next to you, wrapped around you, one of you half on top of the other—his chest fuckin’ aches. And still, his brain tells him to keep his thoughts to himself, to hold his feelings in his chest until the right moment. What’s the right moment? He asks himself. He never receives an answer.

It’s a torture he’s never experienced before and he doesn’t know what to fuckin’ do with himself. The first time you climb into his lap, tugging his jeans open, wrapping your perfect hands around his cock--all he can do is stare up at you, plush mouth hanging open, barely daring to breathe much less let the usual filth fall from his lips.

Because holy fuck, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, so perfect for him, and he’s pretty sure if he tries to say a single thing he’s going to let it slip. So he just yanks you close, biting at your lips, letting you swallow down his grunts and groans. He touches you everywhere--tries to let his hands do the talking for him.

He thinks he should probably tone down just how fervently he’s staring at you as he presses his thick fingers deep inside your pussy, but he has to see, has to know he’s making you feel good. “Tell me.” He manages to say, voice hoarse as he glances down to see your sticky wetness on his fingers before he pushes them back in, thumbing at your clit as he does so. “Tell me how it feels.”

You’re quiet but from your whimpers and whines, and Adam almost adds on a desperate please before you’re suddenly speaking, your words more of a babble as he works you. “F-Feels good, Adam, baby, feels so full. Can--can you--a little faster?”

A little faster? He can do that. He speeds up the motion on your clit, curling his fingers against that special spongy area inside as he pounds them in and out of you, brown eyes nearing black as he stares you down. “Like this?” he growls out, and instead of answering with words you let out a squeal, your hips jerking against him as your eyes roll back in your head.

Adam grins, breathless and feral. “Yeah. Like that, huh? Pretty girl.” The feeling of you cumming on three of his big fingers is enough to drag a long moan out of his chest; you’re so fuckin’ beautiful. “That’s it, doll, ride my fingers—good girl, so fuckin’ needy for me.”

You’re all clingy afterwards, clutching at him; he clutches right back, pressing his face into your shoulder, listening to you breathe. I love you, he thinks. I fuckin’ love you.

When you finally let him press his face between your legs one night, the words echo endlessly in his head. He’s lost in you, in the pressure of your thighs against his ears, your hands clutching at his shaggy hair, the way you clench so sweetly against his tongue. He rubs his face back and forth, smearing your slick all over himself greedily, sliding his nose up and down your clit. You let out an uninhibited, shuddering noise and he smirks, eagerly sucking at your folds.

He lets his eyes flick up to look at you, taking in the softness of your stomach, your heaving tits, the arch of your neck as you toss your head back against the pillows. He can’t see your face like this but he doesn’t fuckin’ care, not when he has the vision of you before him, your soft skin under his palms, the tangy sweetness of you in his mouth.

You cry out his name when you orgasm, your hips bucking against his face and Adam just goes along for the ride, using his hands to ease your frenetic movements. He spells it out with his tongue against your clit as you slowly come back down, blood rushing in his ears.

I - L - O - V - E - Y - O - U.

It’s a warm, early fall night when he fucks you for the first time, slow and deep, the bedroom windows cracked and letting in the nightly noise of the city. He doesn’t hear any of it--hears nothing but you and the sounds your bodies make together. There’s no rushing, no dirty words falling from his lips--there’ll be more than enough time for that later. Right now was about the slick slide of his cock in you, his eyes trained on yours, all wide like he’s surprised by this--shocked that any of its happening. In a way, he is.

Adam reaches out to settle a giant palm on your cheek, holding you, rubbing his nose against yours as he rolls his hips, muscles flexing under his skin as his back arches. He wants closer to you--closer, closer, and closer still--so he shuffles up the bed. It's a little awkward, but he doesn’t care, just as long as he can get deeper. You’ve got your knees hugging his hips, hands grabbing at his shoulder blades, making the prettiest noises in his ear. Adam, you say, and somehow his name has a thousand meanings in this moment. Adam, Adam, Adam.

Hearing it makes his toes curl up, makes him choke out a moan into your neck. “Fuck, I’m--I--” He fumbles for your face, breathing hot and heavy as he mouths over your skin to find your lips, kissing you sloppy to shut himself up. You’re clenching tight around his cock, a hand snuck down to rub quick little circles on your clit as you get close.

He doesn’t watch you as you cum this time, not when you’re pulling his own orgasm out of him, milking him for all he’s worth. He’s drenched in sweat, trembling as he sucks in shaky breaths. No thoughts fill his mind, head completely fuckin’ empty but for the pleasure humming through his veins.

You laugh afterwards, the two of you curled up together, Adam having collapsed to the side in an attempt not to crush you. He gives you a crooked grin of his own, sliding one big palm over your tummy, rubbing it as he slings a massive thigh over your legs. “Good?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he starts to finger your belly button. You bat his hands away, calling him a fucking weirdo even as you lean in to capture his lips with yours. He nips at your bottom lip happily, smoothing his hand over your side, grabbing whatever part of you he can.

“Yeah,” he concedes, “-but I’m the fuckin’ weirdo you have custody of.” You smirk, and then you’re tugging on his shoulders, trying to haul him closer to you. You both need to shower--to clean up, probably drink some water, more than likely change the sheets. But maybe, he thinks to himself as he curls up half on top of you, nuzzling into your cheek--maybe it can wait for just a little longer.

____________________________________

“Fuckin’—ow!”

“Adam, stop moving around—“

“Well stop pulling my fuckin’ hair!”

You sigh at him, crossing your arms over your chest and giving him a hard look in the mirror. Adam pouts, slumping on the stool he was sitting on; he knew he was being whiny but his scalp was fuckin’ sensitive!

“You’re the one who asked me to braid your hair, remember?” You point out, grabbing another elastic from the countertop. “You practically begged me.”

“I didn’t beg.” He huffs, making a face at you. You don’t move, and he chances a look at his watch—fuck, he was gonna be late if this took too much longer. “… Fine, I’m sorry, I’ll sit still. Promise.” He chews on his bottom lip, giving you his best puppy dog eyes; he’s heard they were pretty effective. He’s pleased when you finally step forward, reaching up to comb through his hair again, pulling it out of his face and plaiting it across the top of his head.

He’s landed an actual honest-to-fuck movie role. A little indie film, sure, but it was still another stepping stone in his career. He was beyond excited, was putting his all into it—and, apparently, since his character was a boxer, that meant doing early morning training followed by choreography.

It was fine, really. He was enjoying it, and he liked learning a new sport, liked feeling the burn in different muscles of his body. It wasn’t that he was out of shape, it was just fuckin’ intense. Some days absolutely kicked his ass but he was always eager to come back for more. His trainer, Beth, said she liked that about him. It gave Adam a sense of pride about what he was doing.

It’s just that his damn hair kept getting in the way. It would get all sweaty, sticking all over his skin, flying into his eyes at the most inopportune moments. He’d tried to put it up into a ponytail but that hadn’t lasted long at all. Finally last night, after days of his complaining, you’d told him he just needed to braid it. I don’t know how to do that shit, he’d said, and you’d snorted, and here the two of you were.

“M’gonna be late.” He warns, leg bouncing up and down, jittery. He’d been on time—early, even—to every single session so far, and he didn’t want to break that streak.

“You won’t be late,” you murmur, twisting the tiny elastic around the end of the braid, making him wince just a little—he shuts his eyes against the sting. They have to be tight or they won’t hold, you’d said. Your hands sweep his remaining loose hair behind his ears, combing your fingers through it as you give your work a once over.

“I think they’re okay. They shouldn’t fall apart, at least. No more hair getting in your eyes.” You scratch your nails lightly at the back of his neck, a silent apology for the strain on his scalp, before moving to rub the shells of his ears between your thumbs and forefingers. Adam makes a small, pleased noise at the sensations, leaning back into your chest. He wants to stay here like this, with you, but he knows he can’t.

“How do I look?” He questions, eyes still closed. Your hands slide down the sides of his neck to rest on his shoulders, squeezing gently. He feels when you press a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

“Cute.” You tell him, and he can hear the smile in your voice. “Very pretty.”

He opens his eyes to meet your gaze in the mirror, wrinkling up his nose. “Cute?” You nod, and he shakes his head. “I can’t look fuckin’ cute while I’m boxing!” You just shrug, as if to say ‘well, what am I supposed to do about it?’, and then start putting up your supplies. Adam wants to keep on teasing you, but instead he hauls himself to standing, heading into the living room to grab his boots.

You trail in after him as he’s shoving them on his feet and perch on the edge of the couch to watch him. He speaks as he ties the laces, hyper-aware of the time even though the subway was only a couple minute walk from your apartment. “I shouldn’t be home late. Probably be back before you, even.”

Home. It only half registers that he says it, that he refers to your place as his. He doesn’t have time to worry about it now; besides, you only nod at him, like he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary. He hops up, heavy feet stomping across the floor as goes to grab his trusty backpack. When he passes you on the way to the front door he drops a gentle kiss to your mouth.

“Thanks for my hair.” He says as he slips his arms through the straps of the bag and proceeds to pat his pockets, making sure he had everything he needed.

“Wait!” You’re crying out suddenly, making him freeze in place, looking at you with wide eyes. He watches you rush over to the fridge, digging in it for a moment or two; he gives his watch another nervous glance.

“Kid, what the hell…?” Adam scratches at the back of his neck, bouncing on his toes, ready to get out the door. When you shut the fridge, you’ve got two tupperware containers and a red gatorade in your hands; you hurry over to him, a small smile on your face.

“Here.” You tug him around with surprising strength, maneuvering him until you can unzip his backpack and put the plastic boxes and drink into the large pocket. “I made you lunch and some snacks. Don’t worry, it’s all protein. I know you always pack water but I wanted you to have more than that.”

Adam whips back around the second he’s allowed, his chest feeling warm and fluttery. He steals another kiss, one large hand on your jaw, nudging his nose against your cheek. Knowing he has to keep it short he pulls away, brushing his thumb over your chin as he does so. He opens his mouth to say something, but doesn’t really know how to express what your actions mean to him. When had you even packed that? Last night, while he was asleep?

You give him a gentle smile, nuzzling your face into his palm. “You better get going. You’ll be late.”

Adam exhales. You always gave him an escape route, and he always fuckin’ took it. “Right, yeah. Okay.” He steps back, grabbing his jacket from the coat rack. “Have a good day.” He yanks open the front door; when you speak again, your words are rushed, clearly not wanting to keep him.

“You too! Oh, can you pick up some bread on your way home?

“What? Oh, bread—yeah, sure—“ He’s stepping through the door, mind already focused on the day ahead. His hand finds the doorknob by muscle memory— “Sounds good, I can do that, love you!”—and the door slams shut behind him. He takes the stairs two at a time, his long strides getting him to the subway station sooner than he thought.

It’s not until he’s two stops down, staring blankly out the window as he stands in the crowded subway car, that he realizes what he’s done. Dread settles in his gut, heavy like lead, and his stomach twists. Fuck. Fuck! How could he have done something so stupid?

He wipes his palms on his gym shorts, feeling like they’re all clammy. He’d said ‘I love you’, tossed it to you like it was nothing. It wasn’t nothing! Fuck, what if you didn’t feel the same way? What if he’d ruined everything—pressured you somehow? Jesus Christ, well, guess it was time for him to leave the country. Or at least, move across town. New York was big enough to hide in, right?

He makes his way to the gym in a daze, his chest feeling all tight with anxiety. Getting into his routine is a struggle, and it frustrates him even more. Beth finally tells him to just have at one of the punching bags for a little bit, which does help loosen him up. Adam thinks it’s a tad ironic that imagining punching himself makes him feel better.

It’s not until he’s lumbering to the bodega to grab the bread you asked for, body aching and sticky with sweat, that he remembers you aren’t supposed to be home yet. He could sneak in undetected, plan an escape, or at least formulate some sort of explanation for his morning mistake. Though, he’s pretty sure saying “it was an accident, like when you were a kid and called your teacher ‘mom’” to his girlfriend wouldn’t bode well.

He knows he’s probably overreacting, but he’s never fuckin’ felt like this about someone before! He thought he’d known what love was; he thought he’d been in love in his past relationships. But he’s always said the words too fast, threw himself head first into the deep end. And yeah, he had loved them, in a way—cared about them, wanted them to care for him, too. But this? The all-encompassing affection and support you gave him? Your acceptance of him? He’s never had this before.

He’s never had someone want him fully as he is. And he wanted you the same way, loved every fuckin’ inch of you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of you; wants you by his side, forever. He feels so much that it scares him. And the thought of you not feeling the same, of you not wanting what he did—of his confession of love being something one-sided.

Adam was fucking terrified.

But he can’t run away. He knows he can’t. He always did, and always came back when it was far too late—when people were done with him. He won’t do that with you.

So he takes the steps up to your apartment one by one, trudging slowly, the loaf of bread held to his chest as if it would protect him somehow. He fumbles with the key in the lock, finally pushing through the door and kicking it closed behind him. Looking up, he freezes, heart leaping into his throat. There you were, sat on the couch.

“… I thought you’d be at work,” he says after a moment, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He forces his body into movement, numbly going to put the bread on the countertop before setting down his backpack and removing the empty containers from his lunch. He can feel your eyes on him even if he isn’t looking at you; it makes him hunch his shoulders up to his ears.

“I had a meeting get canceled,” you inform him, voice holding on to a certain edge even while your tone is light. There’s silence, Adam trying to pretend like he’s busy in the kitchen even though it’s pretty obvious he isn’t. “Sackler.” There’s that stern-yet-fond tone he loves hearing so much, and it’s impossible for him to ignore you. He chances turning around, giving you what he hopes is a blank look.

“Will you please come here?” You’re practically batting your eyelashes at him at this point, and his brain is telling him that you’re definitely up to something. But then, you’re standing up, and he registers you’re wearing his favorite tiny tank top—and nothing else—and he finds his feet tripping over to you before he can help it.

“Fuck, kid, look at you.” He breathes, hands reaching out greedily to grab at your tits, the softness of your hips, your bare ass. You laugh, pushing him down onto the couch, pressing your hand between his legs as you lean in to kiss him. He groans, bucking his hips up, already impatient. Shit, it would be so easy to just slip down the waistband of his shorts, yank you down onto his cock—

“Thank you for getting the bread,” you murmur against his lips, leaning over him, one knee on the couch. Adam lets out a strangled sort of laugh.

“This is because I got bread?” he asks, incredulous. You nod, and he still doesn’t believe you, but fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re pulling his hand between your thighs and his fingers are delving on instinct. You’re wet. Wetter than you normally are starting out like this. He swallows hard as he finds your entrance, as three of his thick fingers slip in easily.

“Fuuuuuhhck,” he groans, dark eyes flicking up to meet your gaze, “-you dirty fuckin’ girl. Did you get yourself all ready for me? Too eager for my big cock to wait?” He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face as you whine, your hands tugging insistently at his shorts. He’s quick to help you pull them down along with his briefs, the both of you scrambling to be connected.

The second you slide down onto his cock he’s throwing his head back, thighs straining as he tries not to thrust into you with abandon. “Always so fuckin’ good,” he bites out, jaw clenched and voice all gravelly. His hands find your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he prepares to guide you at a punishing pace.

But then one of your hands is finding his face, angling him to look at you while your other hand balls itself in his shirt—and fuck, he hadn’t even had time to get his shirt off yet.

“Adam,” you say, all breathless, clenching around his cock in a way that has him grunting in response, almost fuckin’ shaking with need. You say his name again as you tug on his shirt, pulling the fabric up his chest. He reluctantly lets go of your hips in order to help get the offending garment off his torso, but then he’s right back to you, hands squeezing your ass.

“C’mon, baby, need you to move. Need to feel this tight fuckin’ pussy riding me.” His voice is little more than a growl, and he pulls you in to crash his lips to yours before you can respond. He’s overwhelmed, needy, previous anxiety forgotten—he forgot most things when you were so tight and warm and wet around him.

He plants his boot covered feet on the ground and thrusts upwards, a broken moan leaving his chest as you gasp into his mouth. You plant your hands on his shoulders and he thinks finally, you’re going to give him what he so badly needs. But then you’re pulling away from him, settling into his lap like you had all the time in the world, a little smirk on your face.

“We need to talk, Adam.”

He stares at you, gobsmacked; his cock does a little twitch inside of you, like it’s as confused as he is. “Talk? Now?” You nod, resolute, and Adam let’s out a long, hot breath through his nose. “What,” he bites out, palms kneading your ass; he thinks maybe his eye twitches, “—do we need to talk about?”

“Did you mean it this morning?” Your voice is all quiet as you run your fingertips over his french braids, then down to curl his loose hair behind his ears. “When you said you loved me?”

Adam’s mind—so singularly focused on fucking you—grinds to a complete halt. He gapes at you, unable to come up with any sort of excuse, any sort of witty counter to your question. It’s then that he realizes what you’ve done, you little fuckin’ minx—you’ve weaponized sex against him!

You fuckin’ knew he wouldn’t be able to think like this. Maybe he should be mad, but he knows--he knows this is exactly what he needs. So he closes his mouth, swallowing hard and sliding his hands from your ass to the small of your back, holding you close.

“Yes.” It’s shaky, falling from his lips. He tries to make his voice more firm. “I love you.” And then, just to double down on it: “I’m so in love with you it scares the shit outta me. I love fuckin’—everything about you. I never wanna love anyone else ever again, not if it's not you.”

His heart is beating wild in his chest, and the pervy little part of his brain wonders if you can feel it through his dick. You lean in and kiss him all slow, squeezing your perfect fuckin’ pussy around him, and his hands move further up your back to pull you into him. He feels unsteady, like he’s jumped off a precipice into the unknown. He’s dizzy with the relief of his confession, with the worry of your reaction even as you kiss him, with the feeling of such a tight, slick, heat around his cock.

“I love you, too.”

He almost misses it with the way you murmur it into the corner of his mouth and with his head spinning from overstimulation. He blinks at you, giving you those big brown eyes and his jaw works as his mind catches up to speed. You smile, dropping more kisses over his strong features, then laugh when he finally yanks his head back to stare at you, his breath catching in his chest.

“You love me.” It’s not a question, but more of a confirmation; him reassuring himself that what he’d heard was real. You nod, hands smoothing over his broad shoulders, down his biceps. His eyes search yours as his hips shift underneath you, making you sigh happily. Something in him snaps.

He re-positions his feet on the floor, one of his hands gripping your hip and the other wrapped around the back of your neck. Your eyes widen, and you have a split second to balance yourself against his chest before he’s snapping his hips up, fucking into you at a frantic pace. The gasp you make is music to his fuckin’ ears.

“Say it again.” He growls at you, gaze drifting over your body, watching the way your tits bounce with his thrusts. “Say it.”

“I love you.”

Your words make him moan, and he doesn’t care how ridiculous he sounds. “Again,” he demands, voice ragged, and you obey—you say it over and over again until his mind is filled with it, the words a soothing balm for all his insecurities. You cry out, trembling in his lap, his cock deep inside you, and Adam is overcome.

He holds you there, the hand on your neck moving between your legs to rub quick circles on your clit. “I fuckin’ love you too, goddamn, this tight little pussy. You gonna cum for me? Cum all over my big fuckin’ cock?” He’s panting, staring you down, not letting you look away. “Fuckin’—say it when you cum. Please—please.”

You nod quickly, mouth hanging open, squirming so deliciously on his cock as your cunt gets tighter and tighter around him. He isn’t sure he’s even breathing, fingers moving desperately as you sob out his name, hips jerking in his lap. Your hands clutch at him, fingers raking at his chest as you chant I love you, I love you, the words all broken by your cries and whines. It’s fuckin’ beautiful.

“Fuuuuhhhhck.” Adam groans between gritted teeth, eyes rolling back in his head as your pussy squeezes his cock like it’s trying to milk him, like it’s begging for all his fuckin’ cum. He lets out loud, feral, shuddering breaths, trying to hold back—he isn’t done with you yet. “Oh, you feel so fuckin’ good, jeeeezus.” His words sound all strangled, and he has just the smallest bit of sense to wrap his arms around you when you slump into his chest.

Your breaths are short little pants against his neck, and he closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of them—of you in general, the weight of you on top of him, your sticky skin against his, your body heat. “I love you.” He croaks out, saying it again just because he can. You hum in response, nuzzling your face closer; it makes him smile.

He trails the pads of his fingers down your spine and then back up, feeling the texture of your skin. You were his. His to touch, to kiss, to hold, to love.

He was yours.

It’s a heady, hopeful thought that tastes like the future.

______________________________________________________________

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1kook · 4 years ago

Text

imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags; jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away. His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #mine

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Text

Green Thumb

A/N: So this was totally unprompted, but I really liked the idea of it! This is based off the idea from @softboiipascal that Frankie likes to garden and has a green thumb. I totally and fully support this hc and it’s the sweetest thing. Just some fluff! Enjoy!

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: none

FRANKIE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You'd never met your neighbor. Not really anyway; you'd exchanged pleasantries upon your move into the neighborhood a few months ago but that was about it. Nothing more than a friendly 'welcome to the neighborhood, I'm Francisco Morales - Frankie.'

He'd been nice - polite - just like the rest of your new compatriots in the small, quiet neighborhood. There wasn't really much to tell about him otherwise. He presented an enigma; perhaps you'd just never taken the time to notice more about him. Francisco Morales was handsome in a conventionally unconventional way: tall and fairly fit with dark hair that curled at the ends, gentle brown eyes, and a sweet smile, but the nose is what got you. While it wasn't a typically classical nose, it was Aquiline in nature and suited him perfectly. Combined with the sultry baritone you'd heard for only a few seconds, it presented a wonderful picture. He was easy on the eyes and ears.

But that was about as far as you'd gotten with him. You'd noticed his pattern of coming and going was fairly typical with a standard work day. Occasionally you'd spied a friend or two that would stop over, or he left the house for extended periods of time, usually on weekends. Gods, you felt like a stalker just knowing his comings and going. But really they weren't hard to pick up on. He seemed to prefer a solitary, quiet life and you wondered if it was by choice or circumstances.

Whatever it was, there was something comforting about knowing that Francisco Morales lived right next to you.

It was a particularly nice late morning when you finally decided to get out of bed and do something. Maybe you would take a walk and treat yourself to brunch at your favorite little spot. That seemed like a good idea. You even decided you'd dress up, just because you felt like - what more reason was needed than that? You'd set out your favorite sundress and shoes by the bed, determined to slip them on after a hot, relaxing shower.

But on this particular day, fate seemed to have conspired against you. Halfway through your shower, while you were still lathered in soft scented bubbles from head to toe, the water went from hot and relaxing to frigid. Almost jumping back from the sudden stream of iciness, you groaned in annoyance at the sudden interruption. Maybe it was just...a moment or two of coldness? Maybe you’d used up all the hot water? Maybe...it would be fine.

So you stood there, naked and freezing, waiting for the water to warm back up. But then...nothing happened. At all. If possible, the water grew even colder.

As you saw it, you had two options: get out and remain soaped up, or you could brace it and quickly rinse yourself off. Quickly opting for the latter, you braced yourself as you stepped back into the stream and washed off the soap and everything as quickly as humanly possible.

By the time you were done, you were freezing, and trying to keep your lips from trembling too much. Wrapping yourself up in your biggest, and fuzziest, towel, you quickly worked to warm yourself up before getting dressed. If you hadn’t been awake before you certainly were now.

This wasn’t how you’d planned your day off. Wrapping the towel around your head, you quickly dressed and threw open your windows and curtains to let the warmth of the spring sun into your bedroom. It had to be something with the water heater; you had no clue what else it could suddenly be. If you were being totally honest, you had no clue what it would be with the water heater.You’d have to call the landlord or some maintenance person as soon as possible to get this resolved.

Trudging down the hall and into the garage, you examined the offending object but couldn’t make heads or tails of it. But that’s when an idea crossed into your head. Frankie. You didn’t know him well, but you thought you knew him well to garner that he would have some sort of knowledge about this type of stuff.

Besides that, it would be the perfect excuse to talk to him. You’d be kidding yourself if you said the mystery of your neighbor wasn’t intriguing.

That settled it.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You slipped on some new sandals as you trudged over to your neighbor’s house, glad to see that his car was in the driveway. For some reason, an odd bundle of nerves had settled into your stomach as you approached his front door. Why, why, why? This was just Frankie and it was just for a quick favor. Hell, if nothing else, you’d even offer to pay him for his time. Pushing away your worries and swallowing down your fears, you held up your hand and knocked on his door, loud enough to make sure he’d hear, but not too loud to be rude.

Standing back, you rocked on your heels as you waited for him to answer. But after a few minutes of silence, you wondered if he was actually home. Maybe you’d been mistaken and he was actually gone...deciding to head back to your own place, you paused when you’d heard some sounds from the backyard. Curious, you mused to yourself, very curious.

Stepping off the porch, you walked around to the gate that led to the backyard and noticed that it was unlocked. Something compelled you to let yourself in, and slowly you did so, “hello? Frankie?”

Still not hearing anything, you walked all the way around the back but stopped suddenly in your tracks as you noticed his garden. You weren’t sure how you had never noticed it before, but it was - simply put - beautiful.

Filled with rows of freshly grown vegetables, lined with fruit trees, and bordered by beautiful, stunning flowers. It was like a little oasis in the middle of suburbia. Whatever Frankie possessed, a green thumb was definitely in his arsenal.

And that’s where you found him. Kneeling on the ground as he trimmed and gathered up some of his fresh vegetables. He was singing softly to himself as music played from the small speaker on the porch. No wonder he hadn’t heard you; in some way you felt like you should just turn around and leave. It was like you had walked into a private moment; a man in his personal sanctuary.

But as soon as you’d resolved to leave, Frankie must have sensed your presence as he turned around and spotted you. A small smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he brushed off his dirty hands on his jeans and stood up. Had he always been this handsome? Sweat trickled down his glorious neck and soaked into the collar of his t-shirt, and you had to struggle not to stare.

“H-hi Frankie,” you held up your hand a pathetic little wave, “I-I’m sorry to interrupt, I knocked but you didn’t answer and then I heard some noise and yeah...sorry?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he was effortless and easy as he walked over to the speaker and turned it down before grabbing his glass of water and chugging half of it down in one go, “is everything alright?”

“I, ummm, this seems really silly,” you scratched at the back of your neck awkwardly and Frankie did his utmost best as he tried not to stare at you in that pretty sundress. He’d seen you in it, just around, and always thought it was beautiful - you were beautiful. Instead, he keep his gaze trained pointedly at your face; in all honesty, that was just as much of a struggle, you were easily the most gorgeous being he had ever seen. But you quickly snapped him back into reality, “but my hot water stopped worked mid shower this morning, and I-I had no clue about how any of this works, and I was wondering if you did? I should probably just have called the...someone. I just…”

“I can come and take a look,” he offered up the sweet smile, displaying the singular dimple you’d never noticed until now, “it just so happens that your hunch was right and I happen to know about these kinds of things.”

“I...thank you, Frankie,” your shoulders seemed to unwind with relief, and you knew you were in good, capable hands, “I really appreciate it. I hope I’m not interrupting anything…”

“Not at all,” he promised, “I was just finished up. My vegetables have been doing very well this spring and have been growing like crazy. Would you...you like some?”

“Have you done all of this by yourself?” you were in awe as he shyly nodded. Taking a few steps closer, you admired some of the blooms and blossoms that were near you, “everything is beautiful. It’s impressive - I could never.”

“It’s not that hard,” he admitted as he reached for the basket he had been filling up, “it’s just about taking the time to do it and be thorough. It’s a hobby I picked up after...after I left the military. Occupies the hands and mind and results in something useful.”

Military. You had no clue he was a veteran. But then again, you quickly realized, you had a lot to learn about him still.

“It’s turned into a beautiful hobby,” you gestured to the lush garden, “and you’ve obviously got some knack for it, Frankie. I’ll just have to come over to you whenever I need some fresh fruit and veggies.”

“You’re more than welcome any time,” he promised as he tucked the basket under his arm and stepped over to you, “come on, I’ll take a look at your water heater now, and then maybe we can do something else this afternoon…”

“I was planning on taking myself out to brunch,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, “perhaps you’d like to join me?”

“I’d like that...I’d like that a lot,” he agreed with a grin as bright as the golden sun, “what’s your favorite flower, by the way? Just curious…”

“Daisies,” you told him as he nodded and committed that to memory, “daisies.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Frankie?” you walked into Frankie’s house, arms filled with groceries for the barbecue the two of you were throwing over the weekend. The whole house smelled like pie, and you were sure that Frankie must have been up to some baking with his fresh apples while you were out. Just as you walked into the kitchen and set the bags on the counter, your suspicions were confirmed when you spied the two pies sitting on the counter and cooling down.

“Hi honey,” he poked his head in from the backyard as soon as he’d heard you, happiness seeping into his features and his bones when he realized it was you, “didn’t realize you were buying half of the grocery store! I could have come and helped.”

“It’s alright,” you promised, “a single trip and two bags. Nothing I couldn’t handle. I’ve got everything for the barbecue this weekend. I wanted to make sure we had everything.”

“You’re the best, you know that?” he came over behind you, easily wrapping his arms around your waist as he pressed a few gentle, delicate kisses to your shoulder. Barely able to contain the ticklish giggles that escaped your lips, you turned your head to offer him a proper kiss, “missed you, baby.”

“You saw me this morning,” you teased at his little pout, “can’t have missed me that much! I see you’ve kept busy. How much baking did you get done?”

“Still missed you,” he insisted with a gentle kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t help but grin at his soft little display of affection, “and I only made the two pies...but I did start on attempting to make some fruit preserves. Who knows if they’ll even turn out good at all!”

“If you’re making them, I’m sure they’ll be delicious,” you reassured him. The man really did have a knack for not only gardening, but also baking and cooking. You’d really lucked out with Francisco Morales; you were more than thankful you’d asked him to come and look at your water heater on that fateful day almost six months ago. You never thought it would lead to all of this - but you were more than happy it did.

“You’re just saying that,” he joked as you huffed in jest before wrapping your arms around him and engulfing him in a giant, tight hug, “fine, fine, fine, you win.”

‘I know,” you stuck your tongue out at him, “now help me unpack and then we can figure out dinner. Maybe take out tonight?”

“Sounds good to me...there’s just...one thing,” the man you loved suddenly seemed to turn shy as he stared at his feet, “just...stay here for a moment, okay?”

“Sure,” you arched a brow as you suddenly worried about him. Gods, you hoped everything was okay, “Frankie, what’s wrong?”

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, “just close your eyes.”

You did as you were told and listened to the sound of his eager footsteps race from the kitchen and...back outside? Shrugging lightly to yourself, you kept your eyes closed as you leaned against the counter in anticipation.

It was indeed only a few moments before he bounded back and you could feel his body heat in front of you, “Frankie?”

“Alright, sweet girl,” he whispered, “you can open your eyes.”

Slowly opening your curious eyes, you were quickly met with the sight of a bouquet of the most beautiful daisies you had ever seen. They were soft, and delicate, in various shades of brilliant sunset colors. Your jaw dropped as you looked between them and the man holding them.

“Francisco…” it was all you could manage to choke out as you looked at them, tears already pricking the backs of your eyes, “these are absolutely beautiful.”

“They’re for you,” he insisted, almost appearing nervous, “you said they were your favorite.”

“They are,” you took them and delicately thumbed over some of the petals, “where did you…”

“I grew them,” he admitted proudly and you were sure your heart was about to burst with happiness and love, “I planted them the day after your water heater incident and they’re finally all ready for you.”

“You grew them for me?” a single tear rolled down your cheek, which he gently wiped away, “how have I never noticed them before?”

“Of course, I did,” he grinned, “I planted them where they would be a little hidden, so you could only really see them if you were looking for them. D-do you like them, sweet girl?”

“I love them,” you reassured him with a soft kiss, “they’re absolutely beautiful. I love you, Francisco. More than words could ever convey. Thank you, my love.”

“Anything for you,” he put his arm around you and pulled you in for a hug, careful not to crush the flowers, “I love you.”

Maybe you were thankful for that stupid old water heater after all.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #soft hours start now and end never 🥺

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spidernerdsblog · 4 years ago

Text

It’s Complicated: Part 2

A/N : I really thought this was a very lame idea when I started writing this but thank you so much for the overwhelming response for the first part. Hope you like this. Let me know what you think.

Pairing : frat! Tom Holland x Reader ( College roommate au)

Summary : you are a classic nerd, he is a typical playboy. Both are poles apart staying under the same roof. How much complicated can your relationship get?

PART 1 PART 3

Warnings : 18+, SMUT, minors DNI, angst, fluff

Mini playlist : What a man gotta do? and Close by Nick Jonas

It's been two weeks since your big fallout. Tom decided to skip classes and crash at the frat house for a few days. And you were thankful for that because to be honest you needed space.

"Seriously guys am I living with pigs this house stinks." Tom complained picking up a dirty underwear of god knows whose from the couch and tossing it away.

"Can't help it bro we don't have a full time maid to keep the house clean." Matt chuckled as he scrolled through his phone sitting on the other end of couch.

"What did you say?!" Tom growled and yanked him up on his feet by grabbing his collar.

"Whoa man calm down! I was just kidding."

"Then next time choose your words wisely before you say anything about Y/N.” Tom gritted under his teeth. “Do you fucking understand?!"

"Yeah man." he squeaked.

"Hey what's wrong mate?" Harrison came running to stop them. Tom lets go of Matt as he collapsed on the couch.

"Nothing I think I can't stay here anymore better go back to a more civilized house." Tom muttered stalking off to his room.

"You are really thinking of going back?" Harrison raised his brows in surprise.

"I pay half of the rent that’s my house too. Also I need to talk to her and sort things out."

You were busy in the kitchen making yourself a cup of coffee as you poured in the milk and took a spoonful sugar. While you stirred the coffee you began to wonder what if Tom returns? How are you going to handle yourself? You still couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him.

And speaking of the devil you heard the door unlock and your breath hitched knowing that only one person has the spare key to your apartment. You turned around, to see that ridiculously handsome face with a mop of chestnut brown curls gazing at you with his hazel brown eyes timidly. You dropped the spoon inside the mug with a clattering sound.

"Hey I’m back." He said sheepishly as you looked at him with a blank expression. Wordlessly you grabbed your coffee mug and went back to your room completely ignoring him.

Tom sighed hanging his head low in defeat knowing it’s going to be tough for him to win your trust again. The whole day you spent cooped up in your room, though you heard Tom knock at your door at night he had come to call you for dinner but you decided not to answer.

Next day in the morning as you were getting ready for college Tom slipped a note below the slit of your door. You picked up the note to see a sad face drawn on it and I’m sorry written on it. You found it really cute and were almost about to smile but then you shook yourself out of those thoughts. No, you were not going to forgive him this time, not so easily. You slid the paper out of your room through the slit of the door. Tom let out a sigh and went away.

Later in the day you were in the library doing what you are best at, studying when Josh came up to you.

''Hey." You looked up to him.

"Hi"

"Can I sit?"

"Yeah sure."

Josh sat across the table as you resumed your work. "Listen I’m sorry."

You sighed and you stopped writing. "I have been listening to a lot of them lately. What for are you sorry?"

"I know I’m the reason behind you and Tom are not on speaking terms anymore."

"That’s ok you did the right thing by telling me the truth. And anyways we didn't have anything between us so don't feel guilty of breaking a non existent relationship." saying that you turned your attention to the problem you were solving.

"Ray optics?" Josh asked.

"Yeah" you blew out your cheeks exhausted.

"You are doing it wrong, may I?"

"Yeah sure." You furrowed your eyebrows as he took your notebook and began to scribble on it.

"It will be like this." he showed you the solved equation.

"Thanks” you were genuinely amused. “I have been stuck with this problem for like hours but how do you?"

"Physics is my elective." He smiled.

"Never saw you in class."

"You know being in the frat." he rubbed the back of his neck shyly.

"Oh yeah, yeah I know reputation, the bad boys." you chuckled, waving your hand.

"So if you don't mind, would you like to grab a coffee sometime?" he asked nervously.

"Yeah why not." You chatted with him for a while. For the first time in weeks you were finally feeling a little bit normal.

You came back to an untidy house, clothes scattered here and there, leftovers from yesterday and empty beer bottles on the table. An obvious reminder that Tom is back and your life is miserable again. Out of habit you went to pick up his clothes and put it for laundry but immediately backed off. No you're not falling for this again. If he's really sorry then he needs to learn a lesson the hard way.

Tom returned home to see all his things still scattered around the house. He huffed perfectly understanding that this is your way of punishing him but he ain't gonna give up either. He picked all of his clothes and put them in the washing machine then threw the trash out.

Later on after sometime you went down to do your laundry. And you were quite pleased to find that Tom had cleaned up all the mess and even put his clothes for a wash. You went to check if the clothes were washed or not and one look inside the washing machine you instantly knew about the apocalypse that’s going to come down on the house very soon. Without a word you retreated back to your room. And after sometime as you had expected you heard Tom curse out loudly.

"What the fuck!!!" He was holding his favorite t-shirt which was now completely ruined and the color faded out. He forgot to separate the whites as the color from the t-shirt got on them too and now all of them were ruined including his favorite one. You were enjoying the whole thing sitting in your room smiling to yourself.

****

"Hey what the hell happened?" Harrison asked next day looking at Tom’s shirt as he tried his best to not to laugh at his best friend.

"Don't ask." Tom grimaced.

"Okay."

"This is outrageous!" Tom exclaimed.

"Here we go.." Harrison snickered.

"No Harrison I can't take this anymore it's been one month, fucking one month!! and she still won't talk to me! I know what I did was wrong, I should have at least told her about it and she has all the right to stay angry but I have apologized to her like a thousand times but still she won't say a word to me. To please her I didn't even bring home any girl for the past one month can you believe it one month without sex?!" he ranted.

"Stop being so whiny it's just a few more months and then we all will go on our own ways. Why care if one girl talks to you or not?" Harrison scowled.

"No Harrison, I care."

"Why because your favorite shirt got ruined?" Harrison chuckled.

"No, not just for doing my laundry I just miss the old Y/N with whom I used to talk my heart out. I mean she was my best friend." Harrison arched his brow skeptically. Tom rolled his eyes.

"You guys are way too judgy."

"Ouch." Harrison placed a hand on his chest pretending to be hurt. "Hey wait isn’t her birthday tomorrow? Maybe do something that will make her smile and forgive you.”

"Yeah right I totally forgot about that, thanks bro."

"Always anything for my best mate." Harrison shrugged. Tom got the reference as he smiled, shaking his head sideways.

****

What a man gotta do playing......

Caught my heart about one, two times Don't need to question the reason I'm yours, I'm yours I'd move the earth or lose a fight just to see you smile 'Cause you got no flaws, no flaws

You were forced awake from your sleep at the loud music.

"Tom for god's sake it's just seven in the morning!!" You yelled from your room and turned on your bed covering your ears with your pillow groaning.

I'm not tryna be your part time lover Sign me up for that full time, I'm yours, all yours So what a man gotta do? What a man gotta do? To be totally locked up by you What a man gotta say? What a man gotta pray? To be your last "Goodnight" and your first "Good day"

You huffed and got out of your bed twisting your hair into a messy bun. You opened the door fuming but were met with colorful balloons scattered on the floor. You were slightly taken aback as you carefully walked through them and down the stairs to see the house decorated. You had completely forgotten that today is your birthday.

So what a man gotta do? What a man gotta do? To be totally locked up by you What a man gotta do? What a man gotta prove? To be totally locked up by you

Tom got down on his knee offering you a bouquet of roses as he mouthed to you "sorry" giving you those puppy eyes.

You ain't tryna be wasting time On stupid people in cheap lines, I'm sure, I'm sure So I'd give a million dollars just for you to grab me by the collar And I'll come build us, build us

You shook your head totally unimpressed and walked to the bathroom to freshen up. Tom followed you like a puppy so you slammed the bathroom door on his face frowning.

I'm not tryna be your part-time lover Sign me up for that full-time I'm yours, I'm yours So what a man gotta do? What a man gotta do? To be totally locked up by you What a man gotta say? What a man gotta pray? To be your last "Goodnight" and your first "Good day"

You stepped out of the bathroom to find Tom standing by the door making a sad face. You went to the kitchen ignoring him to make breakfast. You propped up on your toes to take out the flour bag from the cabinet.

So what a man gotta do? What a man gotta do? To be totally locked up by you What a man gotta do? What a man gotta prove? To be totally locked up by you

Tom went to get the flour bag for you and accidentally the whole bag tumbled over him covering him with white powder. You couldn't keep up your tough act any more as you burst out into laughter, Tom smiled awkwardly slightly coughing and wheezing. You finally softened as you grabbed a hand towel and went to wipe his face gently smiling.

"I'm sorry Y/N. I'm really sorry" he apologized, taking your hands in his.

"Well you are trying so hard maybe I’ll give you another chance."

"Thank you so much Y/N." he kissed the top of your knuckles and the gentle touch of his wet lips sent an unusual shiver down your spine. "And a very happy birthday, darling."

"Thank you Thomas." you sounded slightly breathless.

"So if all is good between us can you look into the matter of my ruined shirt." You scrunch your nose shaking your head dismissively telling him nothing can be done about it. He hung his head in remorse and turned to leave.

"Tom?" you called him back.

"Yeah love?" he looked at you intently.

"Clean the house." You ordered with a serious face.

''Oh yeah, sure will do ma’am." He stuttered.

****

Tom was finally feeling relaxed and happy. It's been a month he got to see your heartwarming smile, finally he got you back but little did he know that a certain intrusion has occurred in your life in this one month. In the evening Tom brought in some takeout and a cake for you as he heard giggles and laughter from your room so he went to your room to check.

"Hey Y/N" he opened the door to find Josh sprawled out on your bed while you were sitting with a book in your hand laughing about something.

"Oh hey Josh what are you doing here man?" He asked with an icy glare.

"Uh Josh and I are just studying together. Did you guys know he has physics as elective? I mean he is a literal genius." you said.

"Not like you." Josh blushed.

"Did you need something?"

"Not actually but since today is your birthday I was hoping that we were going to have a little celebration but you seem busy."

"What? today is your birthday?!"

"Yeah" you shrugged.

"Well happy birthday sweetheart"

"Thank you" you blushed whereas Tom was fuming from inside with his plans being interrupted as now Josh joined you for the mini celebration Tom had planned.

Though it was just the beginning as Tom slowly started to understand how much Josh has become a part of your life. After your reconciliation Tom expected you to be sitting with them at the back but you literally ditched him to sit with Josh. Josh has been saving you a seat in the front for the past few weeks. It was becoming intolerable for Tom to see you laughing and spending time with Josh. He could clearly understand that Josh was trying to woo you. This other day Tom was relaxing on the couch watching a movie as you breezed past him grabbing your purse.

"Hey it's movie night where are you going?" Tom frowned.

"Umm sorry I forgot to tell you I'm going out for a movie with Josh." Tom felt his heart clench for an unknown reason, a twang of jealousy creeping in.

"So you and Josh are a thing now?”

"Umm no but I kinda like him though.” you said tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “He seems to be a nice guy.''

"Well my dear every guy seems to appear nice when he’s trying to hit a homerun." Tom didn’t want to sound mean but the picture of you with Josh brought a sour taste in his mouth.

"Are you talking about yourself?" you retorted.

"I know what I’m as well as I know Josh more than you do. I’m just watching your back." he said softly.

''Listen Tom.” you sighed “We just sorted out our misunderstandings and I don't want to go into another argument with you. I'm a big girl, I know what I'm doing."

"But still be careful"

"Okay mom. See you later."

****

Tom was in the frat house with Harrison playing video games in the living room. He was ferociously pressing the buttons of the controller taking out his frustration on it.

Harrison noticed that. "What happened Mr. grumpy Holland?"

Tom sighed putting down the controller. "Did you know that Josh and Y/N are a thing?"

"What? Really?"

"Yeah apparently both of them bonded over some stupid physics problems." Tom rolled his eyes. "Moreover Y/N thinks he is a nice person but he was the actual reason behind us not talking for a month."

"It's her life she can choose whomever she wants to date." Harrison pointed out.

"No she can't!" Tom burst out and Harrison looked at him questioningly.

"I mean not that weaner Josh." he clarified. "See the only thing I know is that I want my Y/N back with whom I used to sing, dance, laugh my heart out, and had movie nights."

''You guys used to live like this?" Harrison made a face.

"Yes but that's not the point. The point is that Josh is stealing all those moments from me."

"No, no Tom are you even listening to yourself? You just sound like a typical jealous boyfriend. Wait a minute.” Harrison narrowed his eyes, before widening them on the realization. "You love her mate!" He exclaimed.

"That absolute bollocks! I don't love her!" Tom denied.

"Yes you do. That is why it's bothering you so much." Harrison started laughing seeing his misery.

"Haz mate have you gone insane? The last thing Tom Holland will do is fall in love."

"Whatever you say dude” Harrison patted his shoulder still laughing. “you are technically screwed.”

Harrison’s words made Tom ponder for a while about the possibility of him in love with you before he went into his denial. Why would he, Tom Holland fall in love with a nerd like you when there are thousands of hot girls waiting for him in line. And why would he settle for one when he can have someone new every night on his bed. Love, relationships were never his thing. He is better of with no strings attached. However the last blow came a few days later which made him rethink about his true feelings for you.

****

Tom was sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone when you came up to him shuffling on your feet.

"Hey how do I look?" you asked coyly.

"As usual, nerdy." He said nonchalantly without lifting his eyes off his phone.

"Tom you didn't even look at me." you whined.

"What's so special about your worn out sweatshirts and jeans.." His words got lost as his eyes went to you. He rarely saw you dress up but when you do you surely know how to take people's breath away. Like exactly the way Tom felt air knocked out of his lungs as he scanned you from top to bottom. You looked ethereal. Your hair which used to be always messy and tied up is let loose freely flowing cascading down your shoulders. He always knew you had beautiful eyes but today the eyeliner makes them stand out even more. Those red tinted lips looked so soft, supple and tempting. He wished of what it would feel to kiss them, to be marked up by those lips or even better to have those wrapped around him. Did he mention the red dress you chose to wear tonight? It perfectly hugged your curves, it was taking all of him to not to take you then and there.

"Tom?" you called out shaking him from the inappropriate thoughts he was having.

"Wow you...you look beautiful, love."

"Thank you." You blushed, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"So what's the occasion?"

"Umm actually Josh asked me out." his heart sank into his stomach hearing that.

"For a date?"

"Yeah sort of we are taking things slow for now." Tom’s jaw clenched further at your answer. "You think he will like this?" you asked nervously. His face softens as he stands up and cupped your face gently.

"Hey never dress up to please someone you understand? If you feel beautiful then don’t give a fuck to what other’s think just be yourself." tom said, looking firmly into your eyes, wishing if he could show you how beautiful you are.

"Okay thanks for the pep talk, I should get going." you chirped.

"Yeah have a great night, love."

You left and at that very moment Tom knew that he was fucked. He collapsed on the couch as he ran his fingers through his hair frustrated. He hates to admit but Harrison was right he has fallen for you. He was restless and clueless at the same time about what to do with his newfound feelings for you.

Next day during class the first thing Tom did was confess to Harrison.

"I love her."

"Come again." Harrison thought he might have heard wrong.

"I'm in love with Y/N, Haz."

"Bloody hell! I can't believe that the playboy fell hard for a nerd." Harrison chuckled.

"Yeah very funny can you keep it down." he hissed.

"Dude what are you gonna do now?" Harrison whispered.

"I don't know but I can't tolerate that Josh around her." he muttered.

"So then go and tell her what you feel. You said they are still not in a serious relationship."

"But what if she says no I'm really scared."

"Rejecting Tom Holland?"

"Well it's Y/N we are talking about Harrison she already rejected me once if I have to remind you."

“Yeah right.” Harrison agreed.

You on the other hand were in quite a happy place in life right now with a potential chance of finally having a successful love life and completely oblivious about your playboy roommate in love with you. However the universe had other things planned for you. Your phone lit up with a message you went to check and instantly all your happiness faded away.

You sighed gripping onto your phone tightly in anger. Maybe you were meant to be alone was the only thought spiraling inside your head as you stride away to the kitchen and frantically searched the cabinets for something to drink away your sorrow. You needed something strong and your eyes went to the whisky bottles Tom used to keep for him. You took one bottle and drank from it. Tom returned home later in the evening to find you splayed across the couch.

"Y/N you okay?" He walked up to you.

"Oh hey Tom!" Your voice was uncharacteristically high pitched. Tom noticed the empty whisky bottle on the table and frowned picking it up.

"Y/N seriously? What were you thinking?" He scolded.

"What was I thinking?” you slurred. "Exactly! what was I thinking when I thought to date that asshole Josh."

"Hey what happened talk to me." He sat beside you wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

"Like what kind of coward breaks up with you over a message. Sorry Y/N we can't do this anymore it was a mistake." You mimicked his voice. "Like what are we in high-school?! Uggh!! I just feel like an idiot." you groaned.

"I can't believe I would let myself into this...I mean whyy?? To get hurt? Again?" you ranted.

"No, because you are a really good person and care for the feelings of others." Tom said soothingly as he brushed your hair out of your face.

"But you are not like that, you do whatever you want with no attachments at all." You gaze into his eyes and slowly lean towards him in your drunken state too far gone away to think straight, puckering your lips to kiss him. Tom leans back on the couch trying to dodge your advances on him as you chase his lips.

"What's happening?" You blinked and sat back with a frown.

"Umm seems like I'm saying no." Tom said awkwardly.

"But you have been trying to get me into bed since day one. Why are you saying no?" You pouted out your bottom lip.

"Well my dear I am actually surprised too. Usually I would dive into it given a chance." He quipped. You blinked a few more times before your conscience hit you.

"God what am I doing?" You groaned holding your head. "Why am I drunk and throwing myself at you? This is so not me."

"Well happens to the best of us sometimes."

"You know what I was right you men are the biggest disappointment in my life." Tom rubbed your shoulders comfortingly, suddenly you felt nauseous and ran to the toilet covering your mouth with your hand. You collapsed on the cool marble floor spilling your guts out in the toilet.

Tom was just behind you as he bunched up your hair making a makeshift ponytail with his hand, another hand rubbing your back gently. "There, there it's gonna be fine."

"You done?" You nodded, face all red and flushed out. Tom helped you get up on your feet and took you near the basin. He made you rinse your mouth first then soaked a washcloth in cool water and rubbed it all over your face.

"C'mon champ let's get you to bed." He lifted you in his arms and carried you to your room. He pulled the blanket over you and dimmed the lights. He was leaving and he accidentally bumped into your desk hurling everything down from the table.

"Shit!" He hurriedly crouched down to pick up your stuff. He placed them all one by one on the desk when his eyes went to a diary. He never knew that you used to keep a journal. He was really tempted to read it but put it away and left to return back because he couldn't control his curiosity. He turned the pages one by one as he read

Dear diary

Today I met the most arrogant, irritating guy I have ever seen in my life, I felt like punching his perfect little face.

A smile crept up his face on the way you had described him when you first met him. He continued reading further.

Guess what the man whom I dreaded the most I have to spend my life's next two years with him under the same roof. I’m doomed.

It was about the day when he came to live with you. He continued to turn the pages to find that you had stopped writing after a certain time before he stumbled on a written page after a lot of blank pages. It was written after the night of the Halloween party.

Dear diary

It's been a long time, a really long time but I had to write this down. Never in my life I would have thought that I would say this but I love him. You may think I'm crazy but after we kissed yesterday it felt different, I felt different. He came into my life like a whirlwind and I got carried away with him. He consumes me, life is unpredictable when he's around and I love the unpredictability. He is not the perfect man of my dreams but he's all I want. I know he doesn't feel the same way for me because commitment, relationships are the things he dreads the most. But after a lot of pondering I have finally decided to tell him what I feel for him. I'm assuming he will say no I mean what chance do I have anyways I’m a really boring, clumsy person, a nerd not half as beautiful as other girls out there. But I guess I'll take my chances. At least I'll have nothing to regret in future with this weight lifted off my chest. Wish me luck.

Tom slammed the diary shirt exhaling deeply his hands were sweaty as he felt his chest tighten to the point where it was hard for him to breathe. You were in love with him all this time and he being an idiot broke your heart before you could have told him. He glanced at your sleeping figure so peaceful and relaxed. He just wanted to lay down beside you, wrap you in his arms and tell you how much he loves you. With one last longing look he left your room determined to tell you the truth very soon.

****

Next day during class you finally walked back to your original spot at the backbenches as you took your seat in front of Tom. Tom couldn’t be any happier.

"Welcome back love, the backbenchers missed you."

"So did I." You chirped when your eyes went to Josh though you shouldn’t be concerned anymore about him but his broken nose made you a little concerned. "Is that Josh? What happened to him?"

"You know drunkards and stairs don't go hand in hand." Tom said casually.

"Oh my god is he okay?"

"Yeah he'll be fine don’t worry, moreover he kind of deserved it for hurting you.”

After the official closing of the Josh chapter in your life. Your lives were back to the normal routine you were used to. You were sitting on the couch watching some teen romance movie when Tom suddenly laid down resting his head on your lap. You were taken aback as he never did that before.

"You okay?" You asked with concern.

“Yeah just feeling a little down.” He sighed before continuing.

"I'm not a fleeting type of guy Y/N." He said out of nowhere, you looked at him puzzled.

"Okay…" you said unable to figure out where the conversation was heading.

"I wasn't always like this. You know I once was head over heels over this girl and everyone warned me that she's just around me for my money but I didn’t listen and one day she did eventually cheat on me. I was so devastated that I lost all my faith in the whole idea of love."

"That’s sad but why are you telling this to me?"

"Don't know” he shrugged. “you just always listen to my shit so patiently and aren't judgy. I really want to fall in love again but I'm scared you know." you subconsciously started brushing his hair.

"Hey don’t get so upset. When the right time will come you will find your love."

"What if I have already found her?"

"Then man up and tell her. Put your seduction skills to good use." You chuckled.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah sure.”

"What is love for you Y/N?"

"For me?" you paused to think before answering. "Well love for me isn't about grand gestures or expensive gifts it's all about those small little things we do for the person you love to see that beautiful smile on their face which makes your day, dancing and singing to their favorite songs, staying cuddled up all night listening to each other's heart beat as we fall asleep. When you are with them you forget about all your worries."

Tom had got his answer as he called up Harrison that night.

"I’m gonna tell her."

"What! Are you serious?"

"Yes Harrison, knowing that she has or had feelings for me I’ll take my chances."

"Well then good luck mate."

*****

You were out for a while which gave Tom the time to make preparations for the grand proposal he was planning where he will be telling you about how he feels for you. When you returned you caught a whiff of your favorite scented candles looming in the air. You walked towards the kitchen to find the table well decorated with candles and a bottle of wine kept in an ice bucket while Tom was busy working in the kitchen.

"Oh who is this lucky one for whom you are going this extra mile?" you teased.

"She is right in front of me."

"What?! You're kidding right?" you said with an unimpressed look on your face.

"Nope this is all for you."

"I’m not allowing another party how much ever you give me those puppy eyes." You said sternly.

"I don’t want anything from you Y/N, it’s just a formal making it up to you dinner for hurting my favorite girl."

"C'mon sit down.'' he pulled out a chair for you, you sat looking at him skeptically. He served you the food before helping himself. This is the first time you are eating something made by him and you were quite impressed with his cooking skills.

"Mmmm this is good what other talents have you been hiding." You said taking a sip of your wine. You finished your dinner as Tom turns on the music and gets up stretching his hand to you for a dance.

Close starts playing..........

Oh damn, oh damn, oh damn I'm so perplexed With just one breath, I'm locked in Oh damn, oh damn, oh damn I'm so perplexed On that, it's almost shocking

"C’mon". He urged, you smiled furrowing your eyebrows

"Please" you gave in and held on to his hand, he pulled you closer to him. His hand resting on your waist as you swayed to the music holding on to his shoulder. After a few minutes of dancing silently Tom finally gathered all his courage and confessed to you.

"I love you Y/N" He said softly.

"Ha ha nice joke Tom."

"No I mean it Y/N. I'm truly, deeply, madly in love with you.''

"You're lying"

I know, I know you know you're scared Your heart, your mind, your soul, your body They won't, they won't, they won't be careful But I guess that you don't know me 'Cause if I want you, and I want you, babe Ain't going backwards, won't ask for space 'Cause space is just a word made up by someone who's afraid to get too Close, oh

"Look into my eyes Y/N do you think they are lying?" you looked into his warm honey brown eyes. There was something different in them, something you have never seen before but you don’t want to know what it is. You remember how you wanted to tell him that you loved him which you still do but it didn’t end up well. And you still wanted to believe those eyes but something inside you is scared and doesn’t want to.

"I don’t know what game you are trying to play but I'm done Tom." you pulled away facing your back to him putting some space between you. He stepped closer gliding his hands down your arms making you shudder as you felt his hot breath fanning your neck.

Oh, so close, oh I want you close, ooh 'Cause space is just a word made up by someone who's afraid to get close, oh Oh, so close, oh I want you close, ooh Oh, I want you close, and close ain't close enough, no

"I know you are attracted to me Y/N you can’t hide that." His voice was low and seductive.

You forced out a laugh. “I’m totally not attracted to you.”

“You’re lying.”

“And you’re overconfident.” you inhaled, but all you smelled was him, and that did funny things to your stomach.

“Every time you lie, your cheeks turn red.” he turned you around.

Oh man, oh man I am not really known for ever being speechless But now, but now somehow My words roll off my tongue right onto your lips, oh I'm keeping cool while you keep smiling Saying all the things I'm thinking

"Nuh-uh." Not the most eloquent thing you have ever said, but it was the best you could come up with.

“I bet you think about me all the time. Nonstop.” His gaze lowered to your mouth. You laughed.

“In your dreams, Tom. You’re the last person I think—”

He caught you off guard grabbing you by the waist, pulling you up close against his chest. His hand gently glided through your hair as he kissed you. You began to melt instantly the warmth of his mouth holding a promise for something more but then he broke the kiss sooner to your liking.

"Does this remind you of something? About that night?" his rasped.

Oh man, oh man I am like you so I want proof of what you're feeling 'Cause if I want you, and I want you, babe Ain't going backwards, won't ask for space 'Cause space is just a word made up by someone who's afraid to get too Close, oh

"The night we kissed there was something different and I know you felt that too."

Your eyes were candles that night, their light a spark of passion... desire, goosebumps lined your skin, not the kind that one gets in the cold, but the kind one gets when nothing else matters except right here, right now. His eyes kept staring deep into your soul as you felt exposed under his gaze.

"I know you love me, Y/N. You want me, you need me just like I do."

"Stop it Tom." You looked away to avoid his gaze but he pulled you closer and you can feel your resolve breaking already.

"And if you love me you'll kiss me."

Heat settled in the pit of your stomach at his deep baritone. "Stop." You closed your eyes trying to resist your feelings.

"Kiss me Y/N"

"Kiss me please" this time he literally begged.

And the next thing you knew, you had crashed your lips to his nearly knocking all wind from his lungs. He hardly had a moment to react as he felt your warm mouth on his. He was quick to take control as he pressed his tongue to the seam of your lips and you grant him access to delve inside your mouth. It was a very sloppy kiss with the strong scent of wine being exchanged in the intermingling of your billowing breaths. Your grip on his shirt grew tighter. You could nearly feel the slight burn of the wine as it rolled off your tongue and seeped down your throat with every push of his tongue against yours.

Oh, so close, oh I want you close, oh (yeah baby) 'Cause space was just a word made up by someone who's afraid to get close, oh Oh, so close, ooh I want you close, ooh Oh, I want you close, and close ain't close enough, no 'Cause if I want you, and I want you, babe Ain't going backwards, won't ask for space

You started pushing him backwards towards the couch unbuttoning his shirt. His legs hit the couch as he stumbled on it with you over him. You practically ripped his shirt open as you got up to straddle him. His hands went underneath your sweatshirt trailing up your back unhooking your bra. You took off your sweatshirt along with your bra and threw it away grinding on him.

"So pretty" he murmured, leaning down to pull a nipple into his mouth. You moaned, threading your fingers in his soft curls. Your head dropped in the crook of his neck gently kissing, nibbling and licking his sweet spot eliciting soft moans from him in return.

'Cause space was just a word made up by someone who's afraid to get close, oh Oh, so close, oh I want you close, oh Oh, I want you close, and close ain't close enough, no Yeah baby (close oh) Tell me baby what you want (Close, oh) Oh, I want you close, and close ain't close enough, no

You couldn’t get enough of each other as you desperately kissed. You kept grinding your hips on his crotch as you felt his bulge grow. His hands slid down from your waist to your ass giving it a squeeze. You broke the kiss to get some air.

"Bedroom?" He proposed gasping for air. You nodded breathlessly with hooded eyes. He picked you up by your hips and your legs wrapped around him. Your lips reconnected messily as he carried you to the bedroom.

Your back hit the soft mattress as he gently laid you on your bed. You shuffled back on the pillows as he climbs on top of you capturing your lips deepening the kiss. He bit down your lower lip, trailing his lips down your neck and continues to go downwards leaving butterfly kisses along the way. He stops at your waist as he glances up at you for once before unbuttoning your jeans. You whimpered quietly lifting your hips up as he pulls down your jeans along with your panties. He looks down at your soaking core with a smirk.

"Did I make that wet baby?"

"Mmhmm" you whined, squirming underneath him closing your eyes. He spreads your legs a bit, kissing your inner thighs before he finally gave a lick up your slick folds.

"Oh god" you sighed and bit your lip jerking your hips up.

"Hmm fuck baby you taste so good" he swirls his tongue to explore more of your pussy. He moans into your pussy. You bite back your moans running your hand into his hair

"Fuckk Tom.. mmh feels so good." He licked your clit teasingly before sucking it gently.

"Ah.. so good." You groaned, tugging on to his hair as you tilt your head back panting lightly.

"Hmm you gonna cum for me love?" You moaned, pressing his mouth to clit. He lets out a low growl and gets a little rougher toying with your clit your back bowed up from the mattress. He slipped his tongue inside your pussy and starts to push in and out gently. Your moans grew louder

"Tomm.. please please.."

"Hmmm please what baby? you gotta cum first if you want my cock." He slid a finger pumping in and out of you. You groaned, shutting your eyes.

"Eyes on me darling." He commands adding another finger. You forced open your eyes as you felt your body tense up.

"fuck.. mhm" you grinded your hips desperately feeling a tight knot grow in your stomach. He curled his fingers hitting all the right spots inside you. Your legs trembled as your legs closes at the immense pleasure but Tom held out your legs firmly. You reached your high as Tom worked you out through it lapping all of your juices.

''Hmm thats my girl." he grinned, mouth glistening with your arousal.

He gets up to pull down his jeans and boxers fishing out a condom from his pocket before throwing them away. He was about to tear the packet. When you sit up motioning him with your hand to give the packet.

"Can I?" He smirked handing it over to you.

You ran your fingers on his muscular chest bringing your mouth close placing wet kisses on his abdomen dragging your lips slowly down to his throbbing length. You wrapped your hand at the base of his shaft and gave a lick to it which made him shudder. He immediately grabbed your wrist.

"Darling not today. I need to be inside you right now." You gave a mischievous look and tore the foil with your teeth as you placed a light kiss to his leaking tip before giving a kitten lick and rolling the condom down his length.

"You’re such a fucking tease."

"Thought you’d like it." You said with doe eyes.

"Don’t tap that side of me darling if you don’t want your brains fucked out." He warned.

"Maybe I would like to have my brains fucked out." You gave a sly smirk. His eyes darkened as he pushed you down to the mattress you squeaked a little as he pinned your wrists beside your head.

"Your wish my command darling but you don’t get to complain later."

He lines himself to your entrance slightly teasing your wet folds before slowly and carefully pushing in as you whimpered.

"Shit! so tight" Tom grunted sliding himself inside you. You inhaled sharply as you felt your walls stretch. Your mouth slacked open in a silent scream as he filled you up.

"You good?" His soft brown eyes gazing into yours.

"Need a minute, it’s been a long time." You said breathlessly.

"Yeah me too more than one month for me." You rolled your eyes as he chuckled.

"You can move now.'' You whispered into his ears. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before drawing back his hip and thrusting inside you again. He started with a slow pace. Long drawn thrusts going deep reaching spots inside you that you never knew of.

“You feel so good wrapped around me, love.” He carried on with his agonizingly slow pace intentionally teasing you as you desperately writhed under him for some release.

"I thought you were going to fuck my brains out." You quipped.

"Nah changed my mind" He shrugged slowing down grinning wickedly and you let out a whine in protest.

"What happened babygirl? You want it hard huh?"

"Yes Tommy please…" you whined. He felt himself twitch inside you at hearing the pet name from your mouth.

"You just needed to ask my naughty little nerd." He pulled out with just the tip inside you before slamming himself right back in, burying himself deeper inside you. You gasped, hands slipping on to his back pulling him to you as close as possible.

"Oh my god! Tom yess! Right there." He kept on with the punishing pace repeatedly hitting your g spot. You felt your orgasm build up as you grabbed on to him for your dear life, nails digging into the skin of his back which are surely to leave marks he hissed at the sweet pain grunting.

"You close?" Tom’s voice husky as he pounded into you relentlessly making you clench around him.

"So close." you breathed out. His hand slipped between your bodies to draw tight circles on your clit tethering you close to the edge.

"Cum for me love." Your body spasmed as your orgasm washed over you. His movements grew sloppier as he reached his own high. Tom collapsed on top of you panting face buried in the crook of your neck. You remained like that for some time catching your breath soaking in the ecstatic feeling surrounded by the warmth of his body.

"I love you." He mumbled into your skin.

"I love you too." You whispered, running your fingers through his sweaty hair.

Well your story didn't start on a good note neither you have any idea how it 's gonna end. In the heat of the moment you gave in to your temptation but now you realize you had a lot to talk about and make things clear but now is not the good time you both thought. This felt good, this felt nice and you want to hold on to this moment for a little longer.

****

You woke up next morning to an empty bed which made you wonder for a moment that whatever happened last night was just a dream but when you noticed the oversized shirt of Tom on you a smile crept up your face. You got up and went downstairs and were surprised to see Tom had tidied up the house and you smelled freshly cooked pancakes which made your mouth water.

"If I had to have sex with you to make you share the household chores you could have told me earlier" you quipped as Tom worked in the kitchen.

"Don't get used to it." He handed you your morning coffee.

"Thank you."

"By the way good morning darling, sleep well?." He pulled you closer, you hummed as he lazily leaned to kiss you.

"Who are you? You're not the Tom Holland I know, morning kisses aren’t his thing." you ask, cradling his face. You saw his face drop.

"Hey I was just joking, I'm sorry if it hurt you."

"Hey no, no it's not that. It's-it's Y/N I just feel like I don't deserve you."

"Hey why do you think like that?”

"I know I’m not the perfect guy you dreamed of but nevertheless you have accepted me as who I'm and I want to live up to your expectations and be the perfect boyfriend for you. I want to commit to this relationship, with you. I hurt you before and I know every relationship is based on trust so....” He rambled.

“Hey it’s okay” you say softly.

“No Y/N you need to know something about Josh.”

"That you forced Josh to write that text to me after you caught him with his ex and as well as broke his nose."

"You know about that?” He looked at you wide eyed.

"Yeah you know, perks of being a nerd, always curious. Heh. I wasn't satisfied with that stupid text I needed a proper closure so we had a little chat. He said he was sorry and he still has feelings for his ex and how much you love me that you ended up punching him right at his face."

"And you are not mad at all"

"No why would I? You were just looking out for me and to be honest I myself didn’t feel that the relationship was going anywhere. But you shouldn't have broken his nose."

"That fucker deserved it." Tom grimaced.

"Listen you don’t need to stress yourself out to become the best boyfriend in the world just because we had sex then I also have to try to do the same thing of being the perfect girlfriend which I myself am not comfortable with the whole idea right now. So for the time being let’s take things slow and enjoy our time."

“Hmm.. by the way did anyone tell you how much hot you look in just my shirt?”

“Well my roomie told me once.” You looked at him mischievously as you dipped your fingers in the whipped cream kept in the bowl on the kitchen counter and smeared it on his neck. You went to lick on the cream sucking on the spot making Tom shudder as his grip tightened on your waist.

"God you will be the death of me." He gasped. You pulled away immediately after licking it clean.

"I think I'm gonna go and have a shower" You said and turned to leave.

"Okay" He said as you spun on your heels to look at him again.

"And you are joining me in five minutes." You ordered.

"Even better. I’ll be there." He nodded, a smirk growing on his face.

Later in the day at college you were walking with Susie through the hallway when Tom came running and laced his fingers with yours.

"What are you doing?" You whispered surprised.

"Taking things slow." He gave a subtle wink making you smile as you went for a kiss. Susie gaped at you both in surprise.

"Oh my god! You guys.. Are you?" You two exchanged glances breaking into a smile and turned to her.

"Umm.. it's Complicated.."

.........................................................................

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#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland smut #tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland and reader #tom holland and you #tom holland and y/n #tom holland fluff

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dancingazaleas · 4 years ago

Text

𖨆. 01 / all for us

summary: you wake up in a room that seems to be made specifically for you. as it turns out, it is made for you. you find that out when levi ackerman and erwin smith come in to the room and admit you aren’t allowed to leave. how are the first few days?

word count: +2.0k

warnings/notes: cursing, mentions of drugging, mentions of kidnapping, slight manipulation, abuse, violence, and starvation

YOU never thought that you would end up as a canary. a pretty yellow bird with dark dull eyes as you sat in a cage, a trap.

it all started when you met him. the devil incarnate. erwin smith.

he was charismatic young man, sitting at the age of 35 as he held the title of a prosecutor in court. you find it ironic, he puts vile criminals into jail but overlooks himself, the most vile of them all.

he met you at a café. the coffee beans were grinding in the machine at the counter, you remember how you relished in the smell.

when he first caught sight of you, you were scribbling on notebook paper with a nice black ballpoint pen. the gold framing of the pen shined in the light as you twirled it between your fingers. you looked slightly frazzled, but also at ease; something erwin was not used to seeing. you had white earbuds with the slight appearance of brown on the cords in your ears, hooked up to a laptop that you would occasionally glance at.

erwin thought you were a beauty.

you remember how he sat across from you, smoothly initiating a conversation with you. he was delighted to find out that you were a pianist along with a violinist, he loves classical music. you explained to him that you were struggling to create a song for your performance the next week, that all the music notes were just starting to contort into doodles.

when he helped you, that's when you felt grateful. you remember how he mentioned his partner, levi ackerman, and his own enjoyment of the piano. he asked for your number along with the venue where you would be performing.

you gave him the information easily, seemingly ecstatic about someone coming to your performance.

the next week after your performance, you met levi. he was curt and blunt, his difference from erwin had almost given you whiplash. luckily, you learned to adapt and you even would quip back at him playfully. it managed to make him smile, just a little. you enjoyed his company just as much as you did erwin's, something the two of them were happy about.

it wasn't until weeks later of hanging around them that it all went downhill. you went drinking with the two of them, easily complying to levi's request to drink more and more of your alcoholic beverage. it was the last drink that had you realizing that no other drink you had ever had was salty like this. you collapsed shortly after.

you remember waking up in a room, decorated to accommodate you and your interests. there was a white bookshelf that had gold framing splayed onto it with a vast selection of novels. there were three soft and plush chairs by the bookshelf with a soft rug underneath. a small coffee table sat in the middle of the rug.

there was a large bay window with a gorgeous view of a colorful and bio-diverse garden. cushions and throw pillows were placed onto the windowsill, another place for you to sit. the bed you'd awoken in was a queen, heavy cotton sheets messily spread across the bed. around the the room and even on the ceiling were soft yellow lights disguised as vines. directly across from the bed was a vanity and above that hung a nice flat screen TV. the night stands beside your bed held lamps and small knick knacks that you could entertain yourself with.

there were three doors. one to the left of your bed, one to the right of your bed, and one to the right of your television. you found out later that the one by your television was a small bathroom with nothing but a toilet and sink. the door to your right side of the bed was a walk-in closet that was decorated in clothing you'd never be able to afford.

you remember how after that, levi and erwin barged in as you panicked and started to pace around the room. you remember defying them, cursing them, hitting them, kicking them, and even spitting at them.

with a silent look from levi, erwin's distraught face turned slightly sad. his eyes were misty as he shuffled himself outside of the room. when levi's knee came into contact with your face, you realized why. especially whenever the gushing of blood dripped out of your nose and his voice screamed that none of this was their fault, but your's instead.

but now, levi was once again punishing you. you hadn't meant to do it. you hadn't meant to slap erwin. while you had a panic attack, your muscles thrashed without your command and you ended up slapping erwin across his face. you were secretly satisfied when you saw the pained look he gave you, but it immediately turned to dread whenever levi's rough hands pulled at your hair.

he's kicking you once again, and he occasionally accompanies it with a harsh slap.

"i didn't mean to, i didn't mean to!!!" your sobs sound so broken as you land on your side from levi kicking you.

levi ignores you, forcing you to stare at erwin, who sits at the door of your bed with that same neutral look sprinkled with pain.

"please!!!" you plead as you squeeze your eyes shut, "please, i didn't mean to!! i didn't meant to hit him!!"

levi stops his assaults, staring at your cowering form from above. the collar around your neck connected with chains clang against each other as you wearily raise your head.

erwin and levi are expecting a small whimper of pleas, but instead they watch as you slam your head against the hardwood floor. it has you reeling but even so, you continue. you're slipping into another violent mental breakdown, head banging against the floor as your other hand punches at your hipbone continuously.

your teeth are gritted as you start banging your ankle against the ground.

within seconds, levi and erwin are moving you onto your bed and holding down your thrashing limbs. they're murmuring sweet nothings to you, a hand on your forehead holding your head down against the pillow. you sob out again, entering the stage of hyperventilation and wails. erwin is crying along with you while levi just reminds you to breathe.

levi's hands are pressing your's on his chest and over his heart. his heartbeat guides you into stable breathing. when you've calmed down, you enter the shutdown stage.

"there we go," erwin praises and strokes a thumb against your cheekbone, "back to breathing."

levi stares at his boyfriend, who’s muttering something in your ear, but turns his attention back to you whenever you let out a small grunt.

"she wants to watch a movie," erwin says, pressing kisses to your cheek.

"any movie in particular? if not, i'll put on scooby doo; i remember you saying that it comforted you once," he grumbles while he turns on the television.

you don't answer, unsurprisingly, and levi puts on 'what's new, scooby doo?' for you. levi lays back next to you, cuddling into your warm and unmoving body.

it takes two episodes of watching the show for you to start letting out small, yet forced, giggles at some parts of the show. it takes two more for you to be able to speak again.

"food," that's all you said.

erwin shakes his head and wags a finger, "how do you ask properly?"

"can i have some food, please," you sound so tired.

the two men nod and leave your room to get you a meal. you sit up quietly and look down to your hands. they always left your hands untouched, seemingly trying to protect them from the abuse that levi would put onto you.

"stupid, fucking stupid," you spat, "this is their fault, not mine. their fault, their fault, their fault."

you drill the words into your head, but are soon interrupted whenever erwin enters the room with a tray of food.

"you're even sitting up now," he acknowledges while he puts the tray on the bed in front of you.

you thank him quietly and try to ignore the large hand stroking your hair.

"i love you," he doesn't. you don't do this to those you love. zeke never did this to you.

erwin frowns at your silence, hand now tilting your face to look at him. instead of love, your eyes were filled to the brim with hatred.

"you'll come to love us soon enough," he has no ounce of emotion on his face as his finger softly rubs against your skin.

"i doubt it," you mumble and force your face out of his hand. you just want to eat.

when you look down at the tray, you notice the absence of forks and knives. it has your stomach dropping.

"i'm feeding you," erwin says, fork between his long fingers, "we can't trust you with knives just yet."

erwin stabs the fork into cut up chicken breast on your plate, holding it up to your chapped lips. you stare at the food, had it been drugged?

"i don't want to be fed."

"that's too bad. you're being fed anyway, we can't trust you with forks either just yet," he grabs ahold of your jaw and forces your head to turn towards him.

his thumb and index finger squeeze your cheeks, forcing your mouth open with ease. you jerk away at the food suddenly being forced down your throat, hacking as if you were trying to get it up.

"let me chew first," you cough, handing reaching to touch gently at your adam's apple.

erwin doesn’t respond, opting to put another piece of the food onto the fork. he holds it out towards you, patiently waiting for you to stop choking and to eat again. you clear your throat, the idea of willingly letting erwin feed you makes you sick. you don't want to submit.

"i won't eat anything if you don't let me use the fork myself," you feel a headache coming on, fingers now pressing against your temples.

"then i guess you just won't eat," he says with a hint of sadness, taking the tray back into his hands.

you're so hungry. and the smell of the grilled chicken breast with a side of mashed potatoes isn't helping. you don't want to submit. you can't submit, you won't survive.

"guess that's settled then," you flop back down onto your back.

it wasn't the answer or reaction that erwin was expecting, judging by his widened eyes and stiff posture. he relaxes as he shakes his head in disapproval, walking out of the room and locking the door behind him.

you stare blankly at the ceiling while trying to ignore the growling of your stomach. your head hurts from the lack of food, another thing you're trying to ignore.

you turn on your side, but immediately cry out in pain. levi's earlier assault was starting to form bruises on your body, and the idea that you couldn't even curl into a ball made you want to cry. you hiss when you shuffle back onto your back, ignoring the searing pain that shoots through your ribs and sides.

your eyelids feel heavy after you settle down for a while, finally able to ignore all of the pain you've endured.

————

when you wake up, it's raining. there's not much natural light coming into your room, which you're okay with.

a pang of pain shoots through your head when you sit up, hands immediately grabbing at your hair and nails digging into your scalp. the tugging of your hair made your headache a little more bearable even if it was for a second.

the sound of your stomach growling and chains clinking echos through the quiet room, causing you to look down at your stomach. the chains are cold against your skin, tiny shivers spreading across your stomach.

you sigh and get yourself out of the bed. you walk to your bathroom, peeing with your face buried in your hands on the toilet. you ignore the fluorescent lights, which make your head hurt worse, and wash your hands aggressively.

you look up in the mirror as you do so, but you wish you hadn't. your eyes were puffy from the tears you shed yesterday and there's now a bruise on your swollen cheek from levi's smacking. you hold back the urge to punch the mirror, instead wiping your hands off with a towel and chucking it at the wall. you slam the door behind you and start to walk pass the three chairs meant for you, erwin, and levi. a wave of dizziness has you stopping and holding onto it, eyes instinctively squeezing shut.

when it passes, you grab a book and a throw blanket that's sat on top of one of the chairs. you settle onto the cushions of the bay window, taking a moment to stare at the rain falling.

you open the book, 'perks of being a wallflower', and find yourself lost in the words.

it's when levi comes in with a tray of food that you realize an hour or so has passed. he looks shocked to see you sitting and reading in silence, checking his watch as if he were making sure he didn't wake up late.

"got you food since erwin had to go to work. it's belgium waffles with some fruit and bacon on the side," he sits down next to your, now, curled up legs and puts the tray on the opposite side of him.

you wince at the mention of food and at curling your legs close. it doesn't go unnoticed.

"maybe if you didn't act out you wouldn't be in so much pain now," he says, holding out a piece of the waffle and a hand under to make sure the syrup doesn't drip onto the blanket.

"i'm not going to be fed. i'm not a child," you stare at the food.

"you're going to starve to death if you don't eat. quit being stubborn and fucking eat. i don't feel like cleaning up a body," he snarls and you resist the urge to kick his hand away.

"if you let me feed myself, i'll eat. then, you won't have to worry about digging me a hole."

"you haven't earned that privilege. we feed you for now."

"then i guess i don't eat," your eyebrows are furrowed as you stare at him.

"you're stupid. you'll end up dying."

"rather die than be fed like a child."

"you've got some pride. maybe i can beat it out of you," he drops the fork onto the plate.

"if you beat me anymore then you might actually have to worry about a body," you avert your eyes back to your book.

"if it's what needs to be done," he crosses his arms, "speaking of bodies, your's reeks."

"i don't have a shower in my bathroom, i can't help you with that issue," you shrug and flip the page.

"you can."

"i'm not letting you bathe me either. i'm not stupid. if you're feeding me then you're obviously going to be bathing me."

he chuckles a little at your defiance, but you know it's forced. you can smell the frustration on his body and your ego inflates knowing that you're the one who got him to be like that.

"when you decide you want to live, knock at the door and call for me," he grabs the tray and leaves the room, once again locking the door behind him.

"i can wait eight more days before i die."

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #levi x reader #levi ackerman #shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi attack on titan #snk levi #erwin x levi #erwin smith #snk erwin #erwin x reader #aot erwin #dark content #sorrels.allforus💒

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okay-j-hannah · 3 years ago

Text

All’s Fair In Love And War

The Marauders : Fic

Sirius x Reader and James x Reader!Platonic

Word Count: 3492

Warnings: ANGST my guy... copious amounts of ANGST but with a happily ever after 😊

Request: “Dudee! May the best man win was awesome! Please give us a part two of Y/N ignoring them so hard and making them regret!” - Anon

A/N:

Part 1: May The Best Man Win

Remus tapped his quill incessantly into his desk, unable to concentrate on his exam. A few rows away he could see Peter staring at his parchment with his fidgeting hands in his lap. He had no idea where to begin with the list of questions.

Beside him was James, a sight to behold. Not wishing to be caught by McGonagall, he only snuck a few glances at his pale friend. James was disheveled, his hair unkempt as ever but with something more unnerving – as if he didn’t even care to look at it, brush it. The effort appeared to be in his school uniform, at least he managed to fold his collar despite how wrinkled the rest of his shirt was. His tie was loose, and it remained the reason Remus knew his friend was still breathing, cause he could see it rising and falling on his chest.

He was just sitting so still. He was staring into nothing. The circles under his eyes could rival Remus’ around a full moon.

And adjacent to him was an empty desk, one that should be housing Sirius. He hadn’t even shown up for their end of year exam.

Remus sighed, feeling his quill tip dull under the pressure he prodded. At least James was able to show. He had no doubt Sirius was brooding in the corner of the common room, butterbeer in hand. Or else he was sitting beside the Blake Lake, toes turning blue as he stuck his feet in the water.

Yes, at least James came to the Great Hall to take his exam, even if he wasn’t looking at the parchment. Remus knew he was staring at the pair of girls at the other end of the hall.

There was (Y/N) and her friend Mary, each scribbling along their exams as the rest of the students should be. McGonagall began walking between the desks and Remus returned his gaze to his own scroll of transfiguration questions.

It had been a few weeks since those dreaded Easter holidays and every second had been a personal hell for the marauders. James was humbled, became extremely tolerant, and had lost his first quidditch game in years. Sirius became something more irritable; he was edgy and sought the solidarity of dark corners. He rarely socialized, couldn’t even bring himself to take the mickey out on Peter.

It was a grand awakening for James, it made him regret and change. He no longer felt the need to terrorize younger students or attack Snivellus. He was kinder to those around him and even offered to help where he could. Though he did all of it with a glazed look in his eyes and a depressed smile on his face.

Sirius, in the classic fashion of being James’ complete opposite, turned in on himself. He became self-deprecating and didn’t wish to inflict that torment on anyone else. He believed in every ounce of hate he received, in the amount of guilt he harbored. He struggled to see past the bad. His life was teeming with it.

The Great Hall doors burst open, and the flittering steps of Professor Dumbledore appeared. At his side was a very reluctant Sirius.

“Ah, Professor McGonagall,” he said with lightness that did not match the person beside him. “I believe you’re missing a student.”

“Black,” McGonagall snipped, walking towards him and eyeing his ruffled clothes, “You’re thirty minutes late.”

Sirius merely shrugged his shoulders, looking anywhere but the corner of the room (Y/N) and Mary stared.

McGonagall released a heavy sigh, though her brow modeled concern. “Well, take your seat. You’ve still got around an hour to finish the exam. I suggest you use the time wisely.” She shared a look with Dumbledore as Sirius retreated.

Remus and James followed their friend with worry in their eyes, but his desk was too far for them to ask silent questions.

Sirius merely slumped in his chair and twiddled with his quill. He may have been forced to be there, but that didn’t mean he was going to comply with the test taking. Remus forced himself to return his attention to his own exam. And the rest of the hour was filled with a ticking clock and scratching quills.

By the time McGonagall waved her wand and called forth the scrolls of parchment, Remus devised another tactic to fix the wellbeing of his companions. Instead of greeting James and Peter, he chose to wait by the door until (Y/N) came by.

She had her head held high, book bag tight on her arm.

“(Y/N).”

“Not now, Remus, I’ve got to study for Charms.” Mary was nearby, leading the way outside. “I don’t want to hear some other passed along apology.”

Remus wringed his hands, falling into step beside her, “I’m not trying to speak for them. I just want to talk to you. I – I’m worried.”

There was a small pause in her steps, but she kept forward, “It’s none of my concern.”

“But they’re not getting any better,” a new curt edge in his tone, “They’re not themselves anymore.”

“I distinctly remember saying that they don’t exist anymore. I don’t care, Remus.”

“You don’t want to care.”

She finally stopped and turned to him, “I’m moving on. And I won’t be able to keep doing that if you bring this up every time I see you.” But she hesitated at the look on his face, “Remus, what’s wrong?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes full of fretting, “I know you think this was some kind of joke – and it was for a while – but I don’t think you realize how far they fell for you.”

“And that’s supposed to make what they did okay?”

“No,” he bit back, “Not at all. But what’s happening to them right now, that is proof that they regret. That they are sorry for what they did. I think they…”

(Y/N) folded her arms, clearly unimpressed, “Think they what?”

“They need a little forgiveness to get better.”

“No,” she snapped, whipping around and continuing down the entryway, “I’m glad they’re stewing in their regret. They should be.”

“For how long, (Y/N)?” Remus begged, following her steps, “I’m tired of watching them wither away.”

“Please,” she scoffed, “You were there when we had this conversation. I don’t want to see or speak to them. Ever.”

Remus felt his blood boil over, “It’s killing them, (Y/N)! And I won’t watch it anymore. I am terrified that they’re going to be like this forever. You see them, (Y/N), I know you do. You look when you think no one’s around.”

She stiffened, “What do you want me to do, Remus? I can’t forgive them – not yet at least.”

“Please, just talk to them. Make them feel less invisible.”

“I don’t know…”

Remus grabbed her shoulders and made her face him. “James keeps his snitch locked away in his trunk. Sirius gets detention and then does it without a fuss.” Her gaze was hard, but he could see it thinning. “I can’t get James to do so much as nick food from the kitchens – all he does is study like the obedient student he’s never been. I don’t think I’ve heard Sirius make a complete sentence since the holidays. He refuses to even keep company with his friends.”

She swallowed hard, “They hurt me, Remus. They hurt me bad. It’s – It’s hard for me to look past the game they played. Even if their feelings have changed.”

“Please, (Y/N), I’m begging,” he retorted. “Just talk to them, get some closure. I know you made a choice back on that train. Could you just give them some piece of mind? I’m sure it would help you too.”

She looked up at him with some remorse in her gaze, until it flitted to whatever was behind his shoulder.

He whipped around and found Sirius standing several feet away. There was a slouch in his shoulders and his hair fell across his forehead and into his eyes. But there was clear pain and longing there where he stared back.

(Y/N) took an involuntary step backward, hands winding tight around her book bag. Her breathing hitched in her throat and Remus sidestepped.

Sirius took a shaky breath, his eyes purple rimmed and stinging, “(Y/N) …”

But she had already turned on her heel and darted towards her common room. The sigh that escaped Sirius had Remus at his shoulder in an instant.

~~~

There was no one else on the quidditch pitch when she sat in the stands. She sat there and waited, her heart thumping a thousand beats a second. She knew he’d be walking by any minute; he always did on the weekends.

She could hear footsteps thumping against the grass and a chill went up her spine. James came around the corner, kicking dandelions as he went. But his steps faltered, his eyes went wide.

“(Y/N)?”

The edge of fear in his voice put a familiar thump in her chest, “Hey, James.”

His breathing got heavier, his hands running up to tangle in his hair, “You… you’re not running away.”

“I wanted to talk.”

After spending so much time avoiding him, it was a shock to see the state of him. His glasses hid most of the tiredness in his eyes, but he was pale, paler than usual. His voice was raspy where he choked on the words.

“Talk?” She patted the seat next to her and watched him weigh whether or not she was joking before sitting. “Had a change of heart?”

She took a deep breath, keeping her hands tight in her lap. “I’ve… I’ve been thinking a lot about the last time we talked. What I said to you.”

“It’s all right, (Y/N). You were right – you had the right to be angry. I’m just… I’m glad we’re talking now.”

She turned to him and was met with a pained grimace, “I think you need to hear me say it.” He shut his mouth real quick. “James, what you did was horrible, terrible. I thought of it as unforgiveable. But if there’s anything that could’ve proven to me that you guys felt differently about the joke, it’s how you guys have been behaving the last few weeks.

“I think I’ve been punishing you because of my own embarrassment. But honestly – this grudge holding deal isn’t healthy for either of us.”

“You’re looking better than any of us,” James laughed, disbelief ringing in his ears.

She smiled his favorite smile, “I forgive you James.”

He sighed, leaning over and putting his head in his hands. “Thank you, (Y/N), thank you.” He turned to her with an earsplitting grin, “I know I was stupid and arrogant, and it was just some childish bet. We didn’t think about the people we would hurt.”

She started to laugh, “I know, James – that’s why you’re forgiven.” But then she caught the subtle look in his eyes, and she had to suck in her lips. “Look James…”

“It wasn’t going to be me, was it?” the understanding in his voice was remarkable.

“You’re not mad?”

He leaned back, rubbing his tired eyes beneath his glasses, “Mad? You’ve just forgiven me from one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done – of course I’m not mad.”

(Y/N) ran sweaty hands against her knees, “I think you should talk to Lily.” That made his eyebrows raise, “Ever since you’ve knocked down your ego a few notches, she’s started seeing the good in you.”

A newfound smile crept onto his face, “There might be a happy ending for us all yet. Have you told… Sirius?” The stillness of her expression gave the answer away, “You know, I think he’s been far worse than me. You’re going to want to find him quick.”

She shared a glance with him and an appreciative smile, “It’s so good to talk to you again.”

~~~

It didn’t take her long to track down Sirius, he hid out in only a few different places those days. She kept James beside her, each taking turns talking and catching the other up on all they’ve missed. They trailed down the corridor, James falling easily back into how things used to be with (Y/N).

“Let me carry your book bag.”

“James…” The edge in her voice made him laugh, even more as she raised a brow.

“I’m just being friendly, just like we used to.”

And with a comforting feeling of nostalgia, she handed her bag over, giving him a swift punch to the arm for good measure. He rubbed the spot mockingly with a dramatic whine on his lips.

“So how do you suppose I should talk to Evans?”

“You can start by calling her by her first name.”

“She likes being called Evans.”

“Since when has she liked anything you do, James?”

He shrugged half-heartedly, “Just recently, if my sources are correct.”

(Y/N) sighed with an easy smile on her face, “You made friends with me fairly quickly. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

James pondered with an animated look, “All right, you want to make a bet? How fast I’ll win Lily’s affections?”

“Too soon, Potter – way too soon.” But she was smiling, nonetheless. So much so that she didn’t notice the new visitor coming down the hall.

They were on their way towards one of the secret entrances that the Marauders discovered for their map of mischief. There was always the chance of finding one of the quartet skulking in the entryway or hiding along the passage in case Filch or Minnie was after them.

It appeared Sirius had taken such refuge, deciding to come out when he heard familiar voices. And the sight before him took what shattered glass his chest was and refine it to sand.

(Y/N) and James were walking side by side, laughing and talking as if no time had passed between the Easter holidays and now. Then deep in his gut, he knew, (Y/N) had chosen James – it was James from the beginning.

She chose to forgive James and now they were going to live happily ever after.

And Sirius was left to despair in painful silence.

(Y/N) looked up and found her sweet smile vanish instantly. James was quick to follow, readjusting the bag on his shoulder. He swallowed hard, as if the words he was just saying were suddenly lodged in his throat.

“Back at it, I see.” The hoarseness in Sirius’ voice was heart wrenching.

James flickered his eyes towards (Y/N), noticing her shock, and saying, “How are you, mate? It’s been a bit.”

“A bit.” Sirius muttered, repeating the last words with a hardened gaze. “You’ve moved on since last I saw you.”

(Y/N) couldn’t bear to hear the betrayal and anguish in his words. She knew what it looked like. Like she had chosen James and didn’t want to waste her time keeping Sirius in her life.

“Sirius.”

The way she said his name sent a flood of emotion in him that Sirius didn’t like. He didn’t like not being in control of his emotions. He didn’t like that he couldn’t hold himself together. He hated the fact that seeing her looking back at him after all this time was crumbling him as if she’d yelled at him all over again.

“I won’t bother you. Enjoy your evening.” And Sirius turned as quickly as his sleep deprived, wobbly knees would let him, and leave the corridor.

(Y/N) took one step forward and hesitated, a hand outstretched, but the words wouldn’t form from her jumbled thoughts. There was only a look of horror as she watched him leave. James was eyeing her with sympathy, his heart just as punctured by Sirius’ obvious loathing.

“Look at your face,” he feigned a smirk, “You really do care about him, don’t you?”

She finally shut her gapping mouth, biting her lip, “Now more than ever.”

James nodded, putting an arm around her shoulders and leaning down to whisper, “Then go after him.”

In an instant she was running down the corridor, turning sharp and feeling her shoes slide from her momentum. Her throat was dry, and her eyes burned, but she ran like there was nothing else in the world that mattered.

And there was Sirius about to make his way outside and to the courtyard. But she yelled for him first.

“Sirius!”

When he turned there were obvious tears in his eyes, tears that betrayed him and fell at the sound of her voice.

“Sirius, wait, please!”

He could only dare to imagine what she meant by that. But it was enough to keep him rooted to the spot. She was talking to him for the first time in weeks. She was looking at him with something other than hatred.

And the fine sand of his chest rustled with hope against his wishes.

(Y/N) ran so fast that when she collided with him, he was almost knocked off his feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him tight against her.

His breathing quickly began to rise to match hers, though he wasn’t the one who had just ran down the stretch of a few corridors. His arms remained limp at his sides, disbelief etching every part of his face.

Only to feel the doubt creep in.

She just wanted to clear the air, so it wasn’t awkward for James and her. She wanted him to be happy for her and James. She wanted them to be friends again.

The problem was that he wasn’t going to survive witnessing those two together.

“(Y/N), don’t do that.” He reluctantly reached for her arms and pulled her away, “You can’t do that.”

He was oblivious to the immediate confusion in her reddened face, “What are you talking about, Sirius? Do you not want me anymore?” Again he didn’t notice how her eyes began to fill with tears similar to his.

He dared to look at her face, to see the features he’d been dreaming about for weeks. He let his gaze linger despite the yelling in his head to spare himself from the pain that would later come. Another hot tear escaped the corner of his eye.

“How could you ever think that?”

She sighed out an exhausted breath, “You are determined to stay unhappy, aren’t you?” When his loving gaze faltered into confusion, she continued, “Sirius, what you saw back there… that was James and I being friends. I just spoke to him this morning and we made up. We decided to be friends again, and to just be friends. The only reason I spoke to him first was because… well, I was more nervous about talking to you.”

Sirius was too busy going over what he had seen earlier, analyzing the interactions between (Y/N) and James.

“Sirius, what happened between us was horrible. I was so hurt that I didn’t give any thought to how you felt. Obviously, an entire school year is a long time to spend with one person, and I’m sure pretending became real very quickly.”

He swallowed thickly, his eyes itchy from the tears. But he didn’t dare speak, it was all too good to be true. He didn’t want to wake up from whatever dream this was.

“I forgive you, Sirius.”

He let out an unexpected breath, blinking fast – he was not ready for it. His hands clenched into fists as she took another step closer.

“I forgive you – and it’s been paining me to see you like this. That I did this to you.”

“I did this to myself,” he rasped, “You could never do anything so cruel. Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

Then she was holding his face in her hands, wiping away his tears. She felt her heart skip at the way his eyes closed, and he leaned into her palm. “I want to make things right.”

He reached up and placed a trembling hand over one of hers. “Friends again?”

She smiled an easy smile that heated his face. “Actually…” And she encased his lips with hers. She could feel the stutter in his breath from shock. His limp arms hesitantly rose to graze her waist, unable to will himself over completely.

She broke away, pecking his lips once – twice – more. “Does that tell you plain enough?”

He was trying his best to get his breathing under control. His lower lip was starting to quiver, “So… just friends then?” A smile broke out on those trembling lips.

“Right,” she laughed, wrapping herself around him again, hugging him tightly. And this time he returned the feeling, holding her close by the waist. “I made my choice a long time ago. It’s just taken me a while to figure out how to tell you.”

Sirius buried his face into her shoulder, feeling his chest begin to repair itself. His heart thumped excitedly.

There was no possible way he was going to let go of her any time soon.

~~~

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nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

Text

dance me to the end of love (i)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential spoilers for the west wing if you've never seen the show

series masterpost: here

a/n: hi!! i am so incredibly happy to finally be putting this fic out into the world. it means an awful lot to me and i can't wait to share the little world i've created :)) x

Magdalene is content with where she’s ended up.

Denver is wonderful. Her friends are there, her cat is there, and it’s the perfect place for a fresh start. She arrived in the city nearly six years ago – a wide-eyed University of Denver freshman and has stayed put ever since. Her hometown of Aspen holds a few too many bad memories, but is close enough that she can return if an emergency calls for it. So far she hasn’t left, too engrossed in finishing her degree and moving on. There’s a job offer lined up with the university’s library upon graduation that Magdalene is ecstatic about. It means she gets to stay right where she is – where she’s comfortable.

☼☼☼☼

The sun might be shining as she exits her apartment building, but it’s cold for March. Magdalene pulls the thick scarf her best friend Bette got her for Christmas higher up her face and walks as quickly as possible to campus. There’s a brief meeting to attend with her advisor before grabbing lunch with Bette, and then her plan is to spend the rest of the day holed up in the library working on her thesis. It’s due in two weeks, with the defence in just over a month, and Magdalene is incredibly nervous. Though she’d gone through submitting her undergraduate thesis two years ago, presenting her master’s research was going to be a lot harder. She’s heard through the grapevine that the committees are being tough this year and she doesn’t want to fail.

Dr. Williams is waiting for her in his office with a smile on his face. He’s a tall man, with thin facial features and wire glasses that box him perfectly into the intimidating professor stereotype. “Miss Stevenson, please sit,” he gestures to the chair across from him.

“Gerald,” she sighs, “You can call me Magdalene, I don’t mind. Besides, it makes you quite the hypocrite if you insist I call you by your first name but you won’t use mine.” There’s no malice in her voice, just a decent amount of teasing.

The older man scoffs but concedes. “I suppose you’re right. Well then Magdalene, tell me, how are your final edits coming along?”

Magdalene spends nearly twenty minutes detailing all the elements she has tweaked since their last meeting, from the title to the citation style. She’s out of breath by the time she’s done, rambling at an impressive speed, and takes a big gasp of air while the professor mulls over her words. Dr. Williams doesn’t say anything, causing Magdalene to shift anxiously in her seat. “Sir, is there something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing,” he beams, “Everything is perfect. It’s a shame you don’t want to continue researching. You’d make a fabulous academic.”

The compliment makes Magdalene’s heart soar. It means a lot, especially coming from the person who has seen her cry over the oxford comma. “Thank you sir, but I belong in the practical realm. Someone has to file all the documents you obsessively scan.”

She leaves the building soon after, promising to stop by after she drops off the final draft in a few weeks. It’s a bit later than she expected and hopes Bette won’t be mad. There’s nothing the blonde hates more than poor time management, but Magdalene prays she’ll understand. It wasn’t that long ago and Bette was scheduling her own appointments with advisors on how to graduate. Barn Owl Book Company is located halfway between the school and her apartment, making it the perfect spot to meet. In addition to being a used book store, Barn Owl sports one of the best cafés in downtown Denver. Bette is perched delicately at her friend’s favourite seat, a bay window converted into a small nook, and typing furiously on her phone.

“Sorry I’m late,” Magdalene apologizes, “Williams talked a lot more than I expected him to.”

Bette looks up and smiles, shoving a cup in the other girl’s direction. “As always. How is he?”

Sliding into the booth, Magdalene fills her friend in on what’s been going on in their former professor’s life. Bette graduated with a minor in Classics, and it was Magdalene's major, but the former decided not to further her education and is instead doing full time charity work for the Colorado Avalanche. Her boyfriend Tyson is one of their star players, and the two of them are so smitten it makes Magdalene sick. Conversation quickly turns from school to life, which she’s grateful for.

“So,” Bette says, “Are you in for the trip this summer? I’ve got to confirm the reservation in a week or something.”

“I don’t know Bee, I'm going to be the new girl. Asking for time off like two months into the job would be rude.”

“Linny,” the blonde whines, “Please? I want you to come.”

Magdalene scowls. Bette knows just how much the nickname sours her mood but she chose to use it anyway. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps with quite a bite. “Can someone else take my spot if I decide not to go a little closer to the date?”

“Of course! Gravy said he’d fill an extra spot if one comes up so we don’t lose the deposit,” Bette blabs before trying to switch gears entirely. Magdalene cuts her off.

“Who’s Gravy?”

If her friend is exasperated by Magdalene’s lack of knowledge surrounding hockey, she doesn’t show it. Bette calmly explains that Gravy, who’s real name is Ryan, is a defenceman with the Avalanche and a good friend of Tyson’s. She also makes a point of mentioning that he’s single, to which Magdalene rolls her eyes. Bette has a masterplan for her life – which includes her best friend becoming romantically involved with an Avalanche player so the two of them can live the better half life together. As the best friend, Magdalene is constantly barraged with potential players who are looking to date. Once she went on a few dates with Mikko, but that ended fairly quickly when the two realized they were better as friends. Every time since she’s turned Bette down as gently as possible, not wanting to get involved with anyone. Her life is just starting, and Magdalene wants to be secure before settling down.

The conversation eventually shifts to what Magdalene plans to wear for both her thesis defence and graduation. Bette is fashion savvy, while Magdalene is decidedly not. Her everyday wardrobe consists of collared button-downs and sweater vests, which is supposedly never going to back a comeback, according to Bette at least. The blonde eventually wears Magdalene down, and secures a position as stylist for the graduation ceremony. There was an attempt at the thesis defence, but the other girl insists she needs to be as comfortable as possible on such a stressful occasion.

A glance to the clock on the opposite wall has Magdalene stretching her arms and giving an apologetic glance to her friend on the other side of the table. “I should go,” she says. “I’ve got to put in some serious work on my citations today, and you know Caligula doesn’t like it when I’m gone all day.”

Bette rolls her eyes, but there isn’t any frustration behind the gesture. “I swear to god Mags, your cat has more separation anxiety than I do. Speaking of, I’m supposed to pick Tyson up at the airport and I’m running behind.”

“Tell him I say hi,” Magdalene says as she wraps her arms around Bette for a quick hug.

The two girls part ways on the sidewalk, with Magdalene heading back to campus and Bette sliding into the sleek Audi she shares with her boyfriend. Headphones find their way into her ears, and Magdalene listens to a random comedy podcast. Once tucked safely inside the library she’ll put on her favourite lo-fi playlist and concentrate, but for now she just enjoys the funny anecdotes of stories past.

It’s quiet in the library for a Tuesday, though Magdalene isn’t complaining. Her favourite table, the one she swears up and down is the only reason she ever gets anything done, is open, and she all but sprints to place her bag on the worn leather chair. While setting up her work station a few of the librarians come over to offer their congratulations for her upcoming job. News certainly travels fast around here, Magdalene thinks, but accepts their generosity with a smile on her face. They leave her alone soon enough and the tedious work of double checking the formatting of every single citation in the sixty-five page paper begins.

Hours pass, and Magdalene stays working in the library until as late as she possibly can. Caligula is going to start to worry about the length of her absence soon and his anxiety response of knocking over plants is not a mess she feels like cleaning up. She packs up her laptop and walks the short distance home as fast as possible.

“Little boots, I’m home,” Magdalene parrots in a sing-song voice as she slips her jacket off her shoulders and onto the hanger. At the sound of his nickname, the small cat bounds into the entryway. “Hi darling, did you miss me?” Magdalene gets an obnoxiously loud purr in response that she takes it as a yes. She reaches down to pick up the tiny animal before continuing further into the apartment, scratching behind his ears as she does so. The two of them settle into the respectably sized couch, where they stay for the rest of the night watching reruns of The West Wing before Magdalene falls asleep.

☼☼☼☼

“You fucking did it!” Bette shrieks as she bounds towards her best friend. Magdalene braces herself for the oncoming assault, and manages to keep them both upright after Bette jumps into her arms.

Her thesis defence had just finished, and the committee found Magdalene a worthy candidate for the Master of Information Science qualification. The presentation itself was open to the public, so Bette and Tyson sat in the front row to support Magdalene, but were escorted out for the conversation that followed. The two girls had developed a code so the news could be shared in a subtle way, though Bette threw the original plan out the window as soon as she saw her friend give a sneaky thumbs up when the conference room door opened.

“Congrats Mags,” Tyson says sincerely, doing his best not to add to the growing spectacle, but Magdalene can tell he wants to give her a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, “And thank you guys for coming. It means a lot.” As two of her closest friends, both Bette and Tyson know that her family situation is rocky at best, and having them act as her support system means more than she’ll ever be able to articulate.

The couple shares a knowing look before engulfing their friend in a hug. “We’re always going to be here for you,” Bette whispers, “No matter what.”

Magdalene’s smile is so genuine it crinkles her eyes as she wraps her arms around Bette and Tyson’s shoulders and leads them out the door and into the sunshine. The group continues to the parking lot, where they climb into Tyson’s car and drive off campus in the direction of Magdalene’s favourite restaurant. Though she had tried to convince her friends they didn’t need to celebrate, she failed, and Magdalene soon finds herself laughing hysterically over a plate of carbonara as Tyson tells a story about the shenanigans the team got up to on their last road trip.

There’s a game tonight, and Bette has somehow convinced her into attending. Magdalene knows she should go, expand her social horizons a little, but all she wants to do is curl up in bed and sleep for three weeks. Her one condition is that she can go home straight after the game without being guilted into following the group to whatever nightclub they’ll celebrate the win or drink away the loss in. Tyson has to get ready so he drops the two girls off at Magdalene's apartment complex. She’s in charge of getting Bette to the rink, and she’ll leave with her boyfriend after the game.

Once inside the confines of her home, Magdalene promptly lies on the floor. “Holy shit,” she sighs, “I did it. I fucking did it.”

“You did!” Bette says as she lies down beside her best friend. “I’m so fucking proud of you, and Tyson is too. Even if he won’t tackle you in public to prove it.”

The comment garners a laugh from Magdalene, which alerts Caligula to the presence of others in the apartment. He pads over the rug currently being occupied by two adults, and snuggles into the small space between them. Bette and Magdalene continue to lay there, petting the cat and looking back fondly on all the times Magdalene called her friend in tears because she didn’t think she could push herself any farther. Bette was always there to pick up the slack, editing whatever section Magdalene was working on or to bring over a hot meal. Her support earned her the top spot in the acknowledgements section of the thesis.

Ball Arena is already crawling with people when Magdalene pulls into the small lot for player’s and their families. Normally she parks with the general public, but Bette insists they watch this game from the better halves box, and these spaces are closer to that entrance.

“Stop dragging your feet,” the blonde chastises as Magdalene takes her time cutting the engine. “I want to get a glass of rosé before they sell out.”

Sighing, Magdalene follows her orders. “Don’t you have a special bar in the box?” she asks while locking the car.

“Yeah, but the other girls are absolute fiends. They’ll drink it all before we get there with no remorse.”

The girls climb the stairs to the better halves box, Bette chatting excitedly about the game, but Magdalene stops just before the entrance. She’s met most of the others on multiple occasions and has nothing to worry about, but she can’t help but feel anxious. Her life is so different than everyone else’s in the space, and it feels like cheating when she’s there because she isn’t romantically involved with anyone on the roster. Bette likes to joke that she’s her better half, but Magdalene knows it’s said just to calm her nerves.

“It’ll be fine,” Bette whispers while squeezing her hand, “And if you get too uncomfortable we can find some seats in the nosebleeds.”

Once inside Magdalene’s nerves dissipate. Most of the other wives and girlfriends pay her no mind, but the ones that are especially close to Bette congratulate her on passing her defence. It warms her heart a little, and the small group Magdalene finds herself in settles down to watch the game unfold.

It’s a fairly intense one between Colorado’s division rival St. Louis. Both teams are fighting for first place in the conference, and a win for the Avalanche would put them three points ahead of the Blues instead of one. Players from both sides are amped up, and more than once a scrum at the net has turned into a dog-pile. Colorado is outplaying the other team, but have still managed to find themselves a goal short heading into the final period. At the buzzer Tyson takes the face-off and is immediately shoved by a member of the opposite team. He goes down hard, and Bette squeezes Magdalene’s hand so tightly she fears it will lose blood flow. Silence falls over the arena as Tyson doesn’t immediately get up. The inside of lip finds its way between her teeth and Magdalene bites down hard, worried about her friend. She’s so focussed on Tyson that she doesn’t notice a fight breaking out.

“Holy shit, Gravy is going to town!”

The remark is made by someone Magdalene recognizes as Gabe Landeskog’s wife, and it makes her peel her eyes off of Bette’s worried features and scan the ice for some action. Sure enough, a very tall man is laying right hooks to someone who looks significantly smaller than him on the Avalanche blue line. The referees let the fight continue until Tyson drags himself off the ice and onto the bench before separating the men and throwing them in the penalty box. Magdalene can tell words are still being exchanged from both sides of the glass, but she’s more focussed on the fact Tyson doesn’t make his way to the dressing room – a good sign that allows Bette to drop her hand and let out a shaky breath.

Nothing of great importance happens until MacKinnon ties the game with seven minutes left. It happens while the Avalanche are short handed, and the goal seems to light a fire beneath the team. Magdalene may not know much about hockey, but she’s smart enough to notice the insane amount of energy all the players suddenly have. Time ticks by slowly and before she realizes it, the final face-off is taking place. Luckily it’s in the St. Louis zone and won by Colorado. The puck is tipped back to the same player who got in the fight for Tyson, Gravy, and he one times it right into the back of the net. The buzzer goes off not a second later, and the entire team piles on top of the player who just won them the game.

Bette and Magdalene join in the shrieks of the other partners, jumping from their seats in excitement. Eventually they make their way down to the hallway outside the locker room and lean against the brick while they wait for Tyson.

“You don’t have to stay,” Bette insists, “I can wait by myself.”

Magdalene shakes her head. “No way. I want to make sure he’s okay too. What good is a friend with a black eye?”

The other girl laughs at her friend’s stubbornness but doesn’t shoo her away. Once Magdalene has made a decision it’s hard to get her to sway from it, and Bette knows better than to push. Besides, who is she to deny her friend a bit more social interaction? Magdalene has spent the past six years practically holed up in the library and deserves to stand in a crowded hallway.

The friends chat idly while they wait, with Magdalene sharing some of the most ridiculous questions she got asked in her defence interview that morning. She’s mid story when Tyson exits the dressing flanked by a man dressed sharply in all black.

“Hey guys,” Tyson greets, dipping his head to place a kiss to Bette’s cheek before doing an elaborately goofy handshake with Magdalene.

“Good game baby,” Bette compliments sweetly. She then turns her attention to the boy standing awkwardly on the fringes. “You too Graves.”

He smiles shyly, muttering out a small thanks. It’s then he seems to notice the final member of the group, and offers his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Magdalene.”

She puts two and two together on the walk to her car. The Ryan Magdalene just met is the same who will take her spot on the trip, fought someone in Tyson’s defence, and scored the game winning goal. Though they’ve only said a few words, she likes him. He seems genuine, and those people are the rarest to find.

☼☼☼☼

Magdalene is walking across a graduation stage for the final time in two days. However, she can’t find anyone to take the third ticket. The University of Denver has a stupid rule where all graduates must have three guests attend the ceremony. Bette and Tyson are obviously occupying two of Magdalene’s seats, but she’s having trouble filling the third.

“I can ask Tys if one of the guys is free,” Bette shrugs. The two girls are sitting in the window of Barn Owl drinking iced lattes and discussing what Magdalene should wear to the ceremony.

“It’s okay,” Magdalene says, “I don’t want to bother anyone. Maybe I’ll just ask June.”

Her friend’s eye roll so far back into her head Magdalene isn’t sure they won’t stay there. “You can’t ask your boss to watch you graduate Mags! Besides, Gravy owes Tyson a favour and was already looking for something to do. I’m sure he won’t mind wasting a few hours as long as he gets drinks out of it.”

There isn’t a better option, so even though she barely knows the guy, Magdalene agrees. “Make sure he gets this?" she sighs, handing her friend an envelope with a single ticket in it. "I have to go. Caligula should be done at the vet soon.”

“Say hello to little boots for me,” Bette giggles as she waves goodbye.

Hours later, tucked into her couch with a glass of wine in one hand and Caligula playing with the fingers on the other, Magdalene realizes she invited a complete stranger to her graduation and how that could be a terrible idea. Sure, Ryan sounds like a great guy from the way Bette and Tyson talk about him, but he’s only ever spoken three words to her. Since that game she’s gone out with the team a few times, but the man with the piercing stare is yet to make an appearance. Magdalene considers that perhaps he’s more like her than his profession gives him credit for, and she feels a twinge of guilt about being worried he’d cause a scene at the ceremony.

There isn’t any more time for her to fret over the third and final guest on the list. At the last minute Bette decides there’s nothing in Magdalene’s closet that’s suitable for her to wear, so a trip to a local second-hand store ensues. While it’s nice that her friend has taken their carbon footprints into consideration, Magdalene wishes it didn’t have to happen an hour and a half before the ceremony is supposed to start.

“We have to be there in twenty minutes Bette,” she frets, tapping her foot nervously against the tile flooring.

If they can’t find whatever it is Bette’s looking for, Magdalene will have to walk across the stage in denim cutoffs and a faded t-shirt with Neil Young’s face on it, which is something she’s hoping to avoid at all costs.

“Have no fear, Mags,” she says with a knowing glint in her eye, “For I have found it.” Bette holds up a hanger that is holding a beautiful long sleeve dress adorned with a whimsical floral print.

Magdalene can’t help the gasp that escapes from her. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes, “But let’s hope it fits.”

The dress does in fact fit, and the workers are kind enough to let her wear it out of the store. Bette drives at a speed that might not be the safest to travel at in downtown Denver, but she gets to the school with minutes to spare. She shoos her friends out of the car so she can go pick up Tyson and Ryan, and Magdalene checks in with little hassle. The pool of graduates is fairly small, so she chats with a few classmates while they wait for the call to put their gowns on. Time passes quicker than expected, and soon Magdalene is being directed to her seat. She zones out while the dean gives a congratulatory speech and they go through the first few names. At one point she looks backwards into the crowd to find Bette, Tyson, and Ryan all giving her a thumbs up. The nerves she didn’t even know she had settle.

A faculty member signals for Magdalene’s row to stand up, and she smoothes her dress before dutifully following the person in front of her. Giddiness bubbles in her stomach at the thought of being done school forever. A hand from the stage crew give a cue, and Magdalene appears on the stage as her accomplishment is broadcast through the microphone.

“Magdalene Stevenson is being awarded a Masters in Information Science in Archival Studies and Records Management.” It feels so good to finally be finished that she lets a tear slip as she shakes the hand of the staff member handing her the package with her diploma in it.

The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur, and before Magdalene knows it her friends are approaching to congratulate her. Bette and Tyson wrap her in a tight hug, murmuring praise in her ears. Ryan stands awkwardly to the side before Bette drags him into the celebration. The four of them stand in the courtyard where the ceremony was for much longer than needed. Bette is crying enough to refill Sloan Lake if there is ever a drought and is yet to let go of Magdalene’s figure.

It’s only when the event staff ask them to leave so they can tear down the stage does Magdalene turn to leave campus for the last time as a student. She’ll be back in a few weeks as an employee, but deep down she knows this is the last time she’ll ever feel such a deep connection to the place.

“Victory is mine, victory is mine! Great day in the morning people, victory is mine!” Magdalene yells, quoting Josh Lyman as she skips down the path towards Bette’s car.

Both Bette and Tyson are confused at the sudden outburst, not knowing what she’s talking about, but Ryan responds without missing a beat. “Should I bring you all the muffins and bagels in the land?” His response doesn’t clear anything up, but it elicits a giant smile from Magdalene, who laughs and nods in confirmation.

Sitting in the back of Bette’s Audi, on the way to a graduation party she’s supposed to know nothing about, Magdalene decides that she wants to get to know Ryan Graves better. From what she’s garnered from Bette and Tyson he’s a class act, standing up for friends and giving good advice. He likes The West Wing and showed up to a stranger’s graduation, so how bad can he be?

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: see what magdalene's graduation dress looks like here // the quote from the west wing is from 1.02 if you were curious!

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

113 notes · View notes

apixrl · 3 years ago

Text

MORNING CUDDLES.

eijirou kirishima x fem!reader

WARNING(S): none

word count: 2.8k

note(s): eiji and his partner call each other love 25/8 and no u cannot tell me otherwise >:(

italian translation - translator !!

Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep.

Your hand snuck its way out from under the duvet, blindly searching for your phone in order to shut off the nuisance that was your alarm. Once you did, you slowly let your eyes drift open and meet the blank canvas of the ceiling above.

The sun was peeking through the blinds off to the left side, causing streaks of light to form on your bedroom walls and bed itself. None of them obstructed your vision luckily, there was nothing worse than lying in bed only to have the sun blind you. A light snore interrupted your tiredness and caused your eyes to open wider, directing them off to the right to meet that of your boyfriend, Eijirou.

As per usual, he looked at peace during his state of slumber. His mouth hung slightly open to reveal his iconic sharpened teeth as snores broke through them. His usual gelled up hair was now ironed down to structure his face and practically conceal it with the amount there. It swept over one of his eyes - though didn't stop the scar on his right one peeking through. The rest of his hair was mushed up between his cheek and the pillow his head lay on.

You smiled at the sight, losing yourself in his handsomeness for a moment before leaning forwards to peck his forehead softly. You then pulled back the covers on your side, making an effort (reluctantly) to sit yourself up and swing your legs over the end of the bed. Just as you were about to find the means to stand, something tugged you back causing you to gasp. It was only when Eijirou's voice hit your ear that you processed what happened.

"Morning," The redhead let out, voice hoarse and deeper than usual to signal the classic case of morning croak, something you always loved to hear first thing. An arm snaked around your front to pull you back against Eijirou's abdomen. With a little smile, you turned your face to the love of your life, who was tiredly gazing at you.

"Good morning," You faintly sang. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mhhm," Eijirou replied, using his spare hand to reach up and rub his waking eyes at the same time as he released a mighty yawn. "You?"

"Like a baby," Was your answer as Eijirou allowed his hand to gently graze your forearm affectionately. You hummed softly, not wanting to move one bit from the comfort. If anything, you would have liked to have remained under his touch the entire day. Something about his subtle physical signs of adoration brought you head over heels for him, even more so than you already were. But you knew it couldn't last forever. So after a minute of sweet quiet, you proceeded to shift forwards to try and get up. Only to find the grip on you tighten and a disgruntled noise of protest to leave Eijirou's throat.

"Love, I gotta get up," You spoke and turned back to him with a sigh. "I've got that meeting at 10, remember?"

"No," Was the only thing you received back from your partner. Eijirou looked up gently into your E/C eyes. "Five more minutes?"

At first, you went to say a flat no, mainly because you'd expected him to act like this despite knowing full well you were going out. But you eventually concluded on a compromise to try and be smart about it. Fingers playing with the sheets of your bed, you spoke up once more.

"How about you let me go grab us a hot drink and then five more minutes?" It seemed to do the trick. Eijirou paused in thought before gently mumbling an 'okay', the grip on you loosening to give you the freedom to stand up. Once you stood upright you looked back to Eijirou, who was following your every move through tired red eyes.

"I'll come back in sec okay?"

"You better,"

This clingy side to Eijirou usually came out on the first day or two of him having time off work. Since he was a Pro-Hero he could sometimes be working days on end without a break, so moments like this the pair of you really treasured to maintain a healthy relationship. You smiled during your trip to the kitchen, his touch still on your mind as you started to prepare yourself a steaming F/H/D and a simple black coffee for Eijirou.

On your way back to the bedroom you made a pit stop to go to the toilet and somewhat freshen yourself up. All you did was brush your hair and wash your face (you planned to do make-up later) and then you were heading back to Eijirou. You opened the door with your foot since both hands were occupied by mugs.

"I told you I wasn't going to be long,"

"It was too long," His voice came from the bundle of covers, a head poking out from under as you saw a flash of a toothy grin. It was more tired than usual but still held the same passion nonetheless.

"Somebody's impatient,"

"Whatever. Now let me use you as a pillow," Eijirou uttered, waiting for you to put the drinks down and to get into bed. Pulling back the cream covers of your shared bed you were soon engulfed by arms as a head found refuge on your chest.

"Happy?" You said with a laugh. Eijirou nodded and let his eyes close, listening to the sound of your heartbeat against his cheek with a soft grin. He then felt himself get even more at home when your fingertips guided themselves to play with the ends of his hair.

"Yes,"

---

"Come on, Eijirou... I need to go get ready," You whined, rolling your eyes at the silence you received back. Only the soft and light pecks of kisses landing on your shoulder blade signalled Eijirou's distraction, almost pretending to be deaf for his own personal benefit. You rolled back in order to make him stop, looking up at Eijirou in protest. At first, he sent you a nearly offended gaze at daring to make such a movement, claiming he wasn't finished and had intentions of carrying on. Though slowly his jaw altered to a pout, reaching to tuck some hair behind your ear.

"Do you have to go?" Eijirou mumbled and leaned down to peck your lips.

"Yes, I do," You answered.

"Can't you just call in sick or something?"

"I already did that three weeks ago... so probably not,"

"Please?"

"I said I can't. Now get up, lazy bones,"

You went to get up once more, this time forcing yourself through the gripping fingers and hands of Eijirou to escape the bed. When you came out successful you released a small laugh of triumph much to Eijirou's dismay. It was there you walked to your closet and took the clothes hanging over the door on a clothing hanger, looking back at Eijirou whose face had now emerged further from under the covers to watch you.

"Is it even an important meeting, love?" Eijirou said, eyes following as you shuffled back to the bed and put the clothes at the bottom. You released a sigh as you turned to put the clothing hanger back in the closet, not aware of the cheap move Eijirou made when you weren't looking and instead answered his question.

"Not really? But because I missed the last one - no thanks to you, I think it'd be better I should get to this one," Wandering back to the bed, slipping off the shirt you'd stolen off Eijirou the night before as you did, Eijirou rolled his eyes and undermined your words.

"So... miss this one and go to the next,"

"As I recall you said that last time and promised you wouldn't say it when it occurred again... but here we are," There was a little smirk on your face when you caught him rolling his eyes, and in response, you playfully tossed the shirt you'd had on at the redhead. Eijirou snickered and managed to catch it before it hit his face, going to crumple it into a ball and place it next to him.

"You throw like a girl,"

"And you scream like one, doofus,"

"I'm not a doofus... doofus,"

Eijirou couldn't help but smirk in amusement at you, his face lighting up all the more into a bright beam when he heard a laugh release on your part. You were just finishing buttoning up your collar shirt as Eijirou watched, arms crossing over his chest. He cocked his head back against the headrest as well as to the side in thought.

"I ever tell you that you look good in shirts like that?" The redhead stated, receiving a glare that had formed on your face.

"Don't you get any ideas,"

"Wasn't suggesting any, just stating the obvious," He raised his arms in defence as you sat down on the bed by his legs, reaching for the blazer.

"That's also something you said last time and look what happened there - wait where's my...?" You were one sleeve through your blazer when you noticed that one of your pieces of clothing was missing. The navy blue pencil skirt that matched your top half to be more specific. You looked behind and around you, and also to the closet thinking you forgot to grab it with everything else, proceeding to frown in thought.

You swore you hung it up there and -

With a heavy exhale, you felt your body twist around and turn to a particularly quiet Eijirou sitting behind you.

His expression read it all like he was trying to be both obvious and mysterious all in one go in order to get you to question him. It most definitely worked, a hand meeting your hip as you stood upright and quirked a quizzical brow.

"Eiji?"

"Hm? What is it, dearest?"

"Can I have my skirt back please?"

"What do you mean? I don't have your skirt," His growing smirk and amusement in his eyes betrayed his words, refusing to make eye contact with you in a playful manner you'd seen countless times before.

"Okay, so where is it then?"

"I don't know," He innocently shrugged. "Maybe the skirt fairy came and took it,"

"The skirt fairy," You repeated, disbelief laced in your voice.

"Yep," He said through a laugh. "I don't know what to tell you, love. There can't be any other explanation,"

"Just give me back my skirt before I get behind on time,"

"I don't have it,"

"Yes, you do,"

"No, I don't,"

"Don't make me jump you, bitch,"

"I honestly wouldn't com- oof!"

Before Eijirou could finish his sentence, he only just managed to catch you when you pounced at him without remorse. Luckily he just managed to protect himself and readjusted your intended position, victoriously smirking up at you and pointing a finger.

"Hah! Not this time!"

"I hate you sometimes,"

"No, you don't. You love me,"

"I swear to god -," You let out, arms crossing over your chest. Eijirou had sat you on top of him, legs on either side of him as he remained under the covers. "Can I please just have my skirt back?"

"You mean the one that's under the sheets by my feet?" He blankly stated, letting his hands rest themselves on your hips quite comfortably. He couldn't help but laugh at your less than amused expression.

"Why can't you just let me get ready?"

"I'm not stopping you... I'm just making it more difficult,"

"Educate me on how?"

"Well the only way to get your skirt is to get back into bed... and if you get back into bed I'm not letting you get back out,"

"You're really being this persistent, hm?"

"Maybe a little more than intended,"

You hopelessly sighed, looking at the ceiling with a mental cry of both impatience and leisure. The inner want to go to your wardrobe and pull out a fresh skirt was the easy way out, yes, but the temptation of the game Eijirou intended to play was getting to you more than expected. That and you knew he wouldn't let you simply get off him, the grip on your waist not only implying endearing affection.

Eijirou raised his voice, reeling you back to his attention. Despite your annoyance, you did make an effort to admire his features. From his loose hair to his fixed jawline where the tint of a smirk riddled with confidence rested. The pretty glow in his carmine gaze drew you in each time without a fault. He was so undeniably attractive, no doubt about it.

"You know what sounds fun?"

"What?" Partly having a sense of what was to leave his lips.

"If you...," He paused as he subtly cocked his head at you. "Stayed in bed and cuddled with me all morning," Another pause. "Because I haven't seen you in four or five days and I miss you,"

"But we watched a movie and spent some time together last night knowing I was going out today,"

"Yeah but... you're cute on a morning,"

"Opposed to other times when I'm not?" It was Eijirou's turn to send you a little glare in protest before he returned to his pleading nature.

"You're cute all the time,"

Yet another few seconds of quiet.

"Just - stay with me today? And do your meeting-thingy tomorrow?"

"You, Eijirou Kirishima, are going to be the death of me," Leaning down to rest your forehead on Eijirou's shoulder whilst releasing a long groan from the back of your throat. Maybe not so great of an idea since that allowed him to wrap you right into his grasp, you held yourself there briefly as he allowed his fingertips to mess with your hair.

"Probably," Eijirou mumbled softly, tilting his head against yours as he once again let his touch wander. The unexpected cuddle definitely didn't go unnoticed as you pondered in your position, practically ready to fall asleep when Eijirou started to rub up and down your back. Like a moth to a flame, he had you wrapped around his finger, knowing that in the end, he was always going to get his own way. Of course, in other circumstances, he'd usually let you win. But not when it came to morning cuddles.

Definitely not when it came to morning cuddles.

As if waiting for you to talk, Eijirou stared into your strands of H/C hair whilst inhaling the scent of coconut from the shampoo you used the evening prior. He expectantly caressed your hip, his final attempt to win you over confidently coming to a climax at the word that exited your mouth.

"Fine,"

You could practically feel the smirk against the back of your head as Eijirou's touch became all the more prominent and rewarding. He let one of his arms extend out to grab your phone, handing it over to you as you hesitantly sat up with a hotness to your cheeks and found the contact of your workplace.

Eijirou simply watched you the whole time, taking you all in like he was casting gaze upon you for the first time. No matter how many times that happened, he still managed to find you all the more beautiful. He ran a hand through his flattened hair and exhaled merrily as he let your voice sink into his ears, watching the smile on your face grow as you caught him looking.

"Yeah - Again, I'm really sorry I can't make it, Eijirou caught something whilst working and he's bound to the bed cause' of it," You held up crossed fingers in hopes you wouldn't sound like you were lying, glancing at your boyfriend who appeared to chuckle.

And yet again your lie went unnoticed. The call was over in seconds, tossing your phone to the empty side of the bed.

"Why'd you say I was sick?"

"Because if I said it was me they'd probably ask about the last time you forced me to stay off, and how often I'm apparently unwell,"

"Right,"

"But, it looks like you got your way," You said, going to change out the white shirt to put your pyjama shirt back on, placing the work clothes to the bottom of the bed as Eijirou waited patiently.

"Come," Was all he said once you looked back at him, opening his arms for you to sink into. Which you did, reaching that comfortable position within his grasp as though you belonged there. Except this time, Eijirou directed your face towards his, pulling your lips to his in one smooth addicting manner that you felt butterflies in your stomach for.

In the meantime your drinks were disregarded as the clock ticked on, the pair of you forgetting their presence on the bedside table. The steam soon dissipated to nothing the cooler the fluids got.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you,"

He could sense the smile that formed on your lips.

"I love you too,"

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