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oddinary4bts · 17 days

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Chasing Cars | ch 6 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: date anxiety, Sam Hwang, OC had a pothead phase in high school, cursing, probably the worst date of OC's life, alcohol, peach, jungkook is a drunk mess, mentions of throwing up, explicit content: mentions of jungkook and oc having sex

☆word count: 9.6k

☆a/n: in this one, jungkook and OC proceed to be frustrating again :') hope you enjoy haha <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, March 1st

You count the water drops on the vitrine of the restaurant.

One, two, three, though the third joins the second to merge into a single, bigger one.

It’s all you can do to quell your nerves as you’re surrounded by the low chatter of the other patrons in the restaurant. You’re sitting next to the window, looking at the world outside. It’s unusually warm today, and the snow turned into rain earlier, though you know it will ice as soon as the temperature drops again. It feels like déjà-vu, like you’re stepping back to Valentine’s Day, though the company will be different tonight.

You’ve been avoiding Jungkook, and he’s been avoiding you. In truth, you don’t even think you’ve seen him once since last Sunday. He’d come home while you were eating dinner in the kitchen, and he’d walked in, patted your head, and grabbed a glass of water. When he’d stayed, leaning against the counter and looking at you, you’d asked him what he wanted.

He’d only frowned and said you were weird, and that had been that.

To be fair, you know what he wanted. Or at least what he deserved. Apologies, that is, for the way you spoke to him at the bar. But you haven’t been able to give him any. Maybe because it pushed him away, rebuilt the true distance between the two of you as if nothing ever happened. It’s safer that way, especially considering how involved you’d already gotten after just a few days.

Then again, you get why feelings would grow so easily with him. It’s the risk that comes with him, the thrill of doing something you shouldn’t do. As a kid, that same thrill had always made you fall more on the bad side, though you’d always been good in school. But did you have a pothead phase in your last two years of high school? Yes, you did.

Looking at yourself today, you think you made it out of it pretty well after all.

You sigh, glancing at the time on your phone. He’s late. You don’t know why you’re surprised he’s late – Sam Hwang has shown time and time again that he cannot be trusted. And frankly, you don’t know why you’re here.

Why after last week’s shit show and what happened last summer, you still agreed to meet up at a restaurant that’s definitely over your budget.

Another sigh escapes your chest, and you tap your feet under the chair, anxiety spiking through you. You feel foolish and dumb and everything in between, and you’re starting to want to head home when he finally appears outside, heading for the door.

Your heart stops in your chest. As a matter of fact, you think it’s dropped to your ass before Sam makes it to your table, apologizing profusely. He’s dripping water, and you realize he’s walked all the way here.

You do find it in yourself to feel bad for him, just a little bit. Because you’re careful around him, afraid he’ll just hurt you again.

“Sup,” Sam says as he finally sits in front of you, pushing his long hair back. “Shit, it’s cold.”

You grab your scarf, handing it to him. “Put this on, it’ll help.”

He hesitates for a few seconds, holding your gaze as if to make sure this is not a trick, and then he finally takes the scarf. He sighs in contentment as he wraps it around himself, before saying, “Your perfume smells really good.”

You know. You know because Hoseok once told you the same, and so did Jungkook.

“Thanks,” you say, looking down at your glass of water.

There’s an awkward silence, as if Sam is expecting you to say anything else, but you can’t find for the life of yourself anything to say. So you busy yourself with looking through the menu, reining in your wince as you notice just how much out of your budget this restaurant is.

“Long week?” Sam asks as he starts leafing through his own menu, though he keeps a careful eye on you the whole time.

You nod. “Had some lab reports for two classes due tonight,” you tell him. “Managed to get them done but they drained me.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t too bad,” he says, laughing lightly. “You’ve always been a smart ass.”

You purse your lips, cheeks dusting with pink. “Thanks.” You clear your throat, meeting his gaze just long enough to ask, “What about you? How was your week?”

Then your eyes fall back to the comfort of the menu, and you try to figure out if ordering an appetizer for dinner would look bad.

“It was great,” he says. “I didn’t have much to do for classes, so I just chilled. Spent some time with Jake and Soobin.”

You remember them. Jake is the redhead you saw at the bar last week, and Soobin is the third male who completed the friend group last summer. There were three other girls, though you haven’t heard of them since you moved to the city.

“Nice,” you let out, offering him a small smile.

The awkwardness expands tenfold after that, and you choose to order the cheapest meal on the menu. It’s pasta, and you figure you can never go wrong with pasta. After you’ve chosen, you still pretend you’re looking though, trying to escape having to face the heavy silence.

A waitress saves you from it by stopping by the table, asking if you want anything to drink. Sam, with his easy smile and nonchalant attitude, immediately attracts her gaze.

“I’ll have a Guinness,” he says. “And the lady will just have water.”

You freeze. You freeze with your eyes shooting at his pretty features. He looks back at you once the waitress nods, scribbling the order on her pad even though you’d assume it’s something easy to remember.

“What do you mean I’ll only have water?” you say.

Sam laughs. He laughs, as if his choosing for you isn’t paternalistic and so out of date. “I’m sure you wouldn’t drink a beer,” he answers, and it’s almost condescending.

You make an effort of looking around the restaurant, pointedly stopping at a table near you, where the couple is sharing a bottle of wine. “I’m sure we could order wine?” you let out questioningly.

“I don’t like wine,” Sam replies, matter-of-factly.

You widen your gaze, tilting your head to the side. “And that means I can’t order any?”

“Damn, why are you so pressed about this?”

Because this is not Sam. Or if it is, you do not recognize him. He’d charmed you last summer, whisked you off your feet and made you believe in love at first sight. It seems you were blinded, and it’s really hard to find any charm in the man sitting in front of you.

“Never mind,” you say, choosing peace over war.

But in that instant you already make the decision that you will never see him again. You’ll stay for dinner, though, if only because you don’t want to have spent twenty dollars on an Uber for nothing.

When the server comes back with the beer and to take your order, you realize maybe you should have left. Indeed, Sam orders for you again – a salad this time around – while he orders a steak for himself. You have to do everything in yourself not to cringe as he does so, and you keep an empty, plastic smile on your lips as he starts speaking to you about what he’s been up to since last summer.

And he speaks and speaks. That’s something you recognize in him – the way he can speak so much without you having to say anything. It’s like he’s doing a monologue – back then, you’d loved listening to his voice, if only because you liked the musicality of it. Right now, it’s grating on your nerves, and you keep diverting your eyes to the window, hoping there’s some salvation for you on the other side.

Obviously there isn’t any, and if Sam realizes your disinterest, he doesn’t let it show.

You think he’s on his month of December when the food finally arrives, and you’d thank God if you were religious for the respite in Sam’s spiel. Indeed, the silence is most welcomed, and you eat your salad, trying not to think about the pasta you wanted to order.

At least it’s a decent salad, but you’ll know you’ll have to eat something else when you get home.

“And the funniest part,” Sam is saying when you tune back into the conversation, “is that the girl wasn’t even pretty!”

You widen your gaze. “Oh!” is all you’re able to say.

You think you see the couple at the table next to yours sliding their gazes to you, and the girl leans in closer to her partner, saying something. You can only assume that she’s laughing at your expense, and you get it.

You would too, if you were seated next to someone having the worst date of their life.

And it’s strange. So fucking strange, because once you would have given everything to be right here, with Sam Hwang. Now you feel like he’s a stranger, like he didn’t kiss you at the end of the night on that first party as if he’d been waiting for you his whole life.

“But her friend was,” Sam adds, and his fork makes a grating sound as he moves it on his plate. “Sorry,” he mindlessly apologizes.

“No worries,” you let out, with no ounce of emotion in your tone.

Indeed, your social battery ran out while he was on October, and you think now he’s almost caught up to the present. Not that you care – you know you’ll never want to hear about Sam Hwang again as soon as you’re out of this restaurant.

“And you?” he asks, surprising you.

Surprising everyone in the restaurant, you reckon.

“Me?” you say.

“What’s new?”

You let out a small laugh. You can’t help it – it bubbles out of your mouth by itself, and you think it almost sounds a little crazed.

“Nothing much,” you answer. “My classes have been chill, can’t wait to be in med school, and I am starting to have a headache.”

Sam frowns, lips slightly curling in disdain. “Am I boring you?”

You blink once, twice, plastering a fake smile on your lips. “Of course not! I’m happy to know everything that’s happened in your life since you left me alone on the docks last summer.”

You say that at the exact same time the waitress stops next to the table. She gasps, or at least you think she does, and then she clears her throat.

“Would you guys like some dessert?” she asks as she eyes the empty plates in front of you.

“No thank you,” you quickly say before Sam could once more decide for you. “We’ll take the bill.”

He’s shocked. You see it the moment your eyes meet his again. You hope he sees all the ire in your gaze, all the hatred for what he did months ago and for this revelation that he isn’t shit anyway.

“I wanted dessert,” he says once the server is out of sight.

“Well, you can go home and get yourself some,” you drawl. “I’m tired of this.”

“Excuse me?” Sam lets out. “I’m stooping so low for you, and you’re just tired?”

“Seriously?” You scoff, shaking your head. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking last summer but you are an asshole, Sam Hwang.”

“And you’re so much better?” he says, laughing bitterly. “You’ve been looking outside this whole time as if you’d rather be anywhere but here. You’re the one that was begging me to hang out.”

You snort. “Oh, did I now?” you say. “I think I remember you asking for a date.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “I’m done here.”

You watch him get up, not surprised in the slightest as he throws your scarf at you, and then you watch him leave. He knocks his chair down when he grabs his coat from the back of it, and every pair of eyes in the restaurant turns towards you at the commotion. You just remain seated, trying to not explode, lips stretched into a thin line.

When Sam is out of the restaurant, the girl at the table next to yours leans closer to you. “I was about to tell him to fuck off for you, girl,” she says, and it makes you laugh.

“Man, to think I once had feelings for that douche?” you reply.

She chuckles. “He’s just red flags, run while you still can.”

You look at his chair on the floor, wincing. “Highly doubt he’ll ever approach me again.”

“And I say good riddance.”

You laugh along with her and her partner, and then you get up to right the chair, if only to busy yourself. Because your hands are trembling – you’re not good with public scenes like the one that just unfolded, no matter how friendly the people around you are. So you’re relieved when the waitress comes back, though the price on the bill seems to be laughing at you.

You still pay, cringing at the hole it’ll make in your budget, and then you wish a good evening to the girl and her partner, before heading towards the door, putting your coat on on the way. You stay in the lobby as you order your Uber, and you go through the Instagram stories as you wait.

Jungkook’s story is fourth, and you wince as you notice he posted it less than a minute ago. It’s nothing much though, just a picture of a table filled with beers, and you’re about to skip when something catches your eyes.

It is indeed a table filled with beers. A very familiar table, and you think you’ll murder Jungkook.

You slide in his dms as you slowly feel anger rising in you.

[08:57 pm] You: when were u going to tell me ure hosting smthg at the apt tonight?

Jungkook doesn’t reply. As a matter of fact, you don’t even know if he’ll see, and all you can think is that you need to go home and go fast, just to make sure no one breaks anything.

It’s not that you’re against having get-togethers at your apartment. As a matter of fact, you’re hosting something with your friends tomorrow, though you’d planned to tell Jungkook tomorrow morning.

Maybe this is payback for not telling him before. For not apologizing, for pretending that he’s just a stranger even though two weeks ago you were moaning under him.

You push the thoughts away, but they’re like a door you were supposed to pull – they remain unmoving, taking up the whole scene of your mind. They haunt and taunt you all the way home, and you reckon it’s better than to think about Sam Hwang, about the shit-show of the date you just had.

So you cling to the anger rising in you, to the regrets and to the disappointment. Maybe because Jungkook is part of your present, and not your past. Maybe because no matter how much you avoid each other, your paths will always cross.

The Uber drops you right outside the door of your building, and you thank the driver before stepping out into the cold. The rain has relented now, but it’s already started to turn to ice, so you carefully maneuver to the bottom of the stairs leading to your apartment, doing your best not to fall. You’re successful – not like a similar, freezing rain day, and you climb the stairs to the door properly.

You’re not surprised to find the door unlocked.

But you’re definitely surprised when you open the door to the sight of five grown men sitting in your living room, with two pretty girls hanging with them. Though music is playing loud enough to burst your eardrums, everyone’s gaze turns to you, and you stand in the open door with a slightly frightened look on your features.

“Peach!” Jungkook bellows.

If he realizes he’s called you by that pet name in front of everyone he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he jumps to his feet, heading to where you’re standing.

“It’s freezing,” he comments as he stops next to you, pushing the door close.

You immediately smell the alcohol on him, and you cock an eyebrow.

“You’re drunk,” you state.

He flicks your nose. “Astute.”

You don’t know how he manages to use vocabulary like that when he’s drunk. What you do know is that everyone is still staring at you, as if they’re watching the scene unfolding in a movie theatre.

“You didn’t tell me you were hosting something,” you hiss through your teeth, turning away from everyone to focus on Jungkook who’s leaning against the door now.

“Oh, peach,” he lets out. “Sorry. I thought we weren’t on speaking terms.”

Bewildered, you watch as he flashes you one of his iconic grins, the one that makes him look like a bunny, and then he heads back to where he was sprawled on the floor. Right next to one of the girls.

The other girl you know, and she’s currently leaning against her boyfriend. She offers you a bright smile when your gazes meet, waving hi.

“Hey,” you reply as you take off your boots and coat. You put the latter in the closet, before turning towards the living room again.

The group seems to have moved on to something else, and you watch as Jungkook laughs, eyes crinkling with happiness. You don’t think you’re ready for what it does to your lungs – it sucks the breath right out of them, and you quickly leave to head to your room.

You pitstop by the kitchen first, trying to see if there’s anything to eat in the fridge. You fall on some leftover noodles that are undoubtedly Jungkook’s. You snatch them from where they are, thinking it’s a good revenge for him hosting people over without telling you. They’re almost done reheating when Sera walks into the kitchen, and she beams once more at the sight of you.

“Y/n!” she says. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

You offer her a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, since Tae left, you guys don’t usually come over.”

And it’s true. Except for Jimin, you haven’t seen the rest of Taehyung’s friend group since he left at the beginning of January.

“It was Jimin’s idea,” she says as she heads to the fridge. She fishes a lemonade from the top shelf, before carefully closing the door again. “We facetimed Tae earlier.”

You nod. “Awesome. How is he?”

“You guys don’t speak?” she asks, and she genuinely sounds concerned.

You shrug your shoulders because you do speak. But ever since what happened with Jungkook, you’ve found it hard to truly speak to Taehyung, to pretend that you didn’t fuck his best friend, so you’ve been trying to avoid him as much as possible.

Though it might be slightly suspicious, Taehyung hasn’t caught up to it yet.

“We do,” you say, chuckling. “Just not that often.”

She hums. “Oh well. Do you want to join us?” she asks, motioning over her shoulder. “JK said you make for a good Kim substitute.”

You snort, unsure of what you just heard. “What?”

She smiles secretively. “You know what I mean.”

Your gaze widens, and the microwave beeps, startling you. You pull your noodles out of it, wincing at how warm the bowl is. You drop it on the counter, before turning towards Sera again. “As a matter of fact, I actually have no clue what you mean.”

She bursts out laughing, that clear crystalline laugh you have no doubt ensnared Jimin when they met years ago.

“Jungkook just said that you guys hung out during the power outage and that you were chill.”

You wonder if you’ll have to murder him. You reckon you might, and your heart squeezes in your chest as you hope no one actually understood what he meant by that.

“He’s right,” Sera adds. “Each time you’ve hung out with us I’ve always found you fun.”

“Oh,” you let out, and you try to smile, try to act as if you didn’t turn entirely white at her words.

“So come eat with us!”

And then she’s waltzing out of the kitchen, and you wonder if you should just jump out of the window. Avoiding Jungkook seems like the only viable option, especially when you step out of the kitchen, noodles in hand, to the sight of him with his head in the lap of the other girl. She’s running her hands through his hair while he plays on the Switch, and your heart squeezes uncomfortably.

Unfortunately, Jungkook catches sight of you, and he awkwardly sits up.

“Come here!” he tells you, and everyone’s head once again turns to you. “Wait, are those my noodles?”

You glance down at the bowl in your hands. “Maybe.”

“Stop stealing my food,” he complains, and he gets up, handing his controller to the girl.

You’re keenly aware of the way her gaze slightly narrows on you as Jungkook makes his way to you. He makes to grab the bowl from your hands, and you turn away from him.

“Nu-uh,” you say. “They’re mine now.”

Jungkook groans. “No.”

And then he wraps an arm around your waist, skillfully stealing the bowl from your hands and raising it over your head. He lets out a victorious cry, and his arm tightens around your waist when you try to reach up.

“If you like my food so bad, just ask me to cook some for you,” Jungkook says, looking down at you.

He’s close. Dangerously close, especially under the eyes of his friends. Of that girl he was all cuddled up with just a few seconds ago.

“What are you doing?” you say through your teeth.

He dumbly smiles, before winking at you. “Making sure you don’t eat the noodles I know I’ll need tomorrow morning for the hangover.”

“Just don’t drink too much.”

His eyes trail to the coffee table. “I think it’s a little too late for that.”

And you know it is. He smells like it, like he’s had too many beers. You wonder how he can look sober even though he drank so much – if you were him, you’d be making a fool out of yourself by now.

“Please, Jungkook,” you say after a few seconds of tense silence, of your eyes getting lost in the enormity of his gaze.

He frowns, and his arm lowers from where he’s holding the noodles up. “What’s wrong?”

You gulp. “I just had a shit date, and I’m still hungry. I just want to eat something.”

He takes a step away from you, handing you the bowl as his frown deepens. He cocks his head to the side, questioningly, and then folds his arms on his chest.

You do your best not to avert your gaze to the muscles on his arms, instead letting your eyes fall to the bowl of noodles.

“Who did you go on a date with?” he asks.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Please tell me it’s not the guy from last week.”

You shut your eyes, sighing deeply. “Jungkook, it’s none of your business.”

“He’s an asshole,” he lets out, a little louder than necessary. “Why would you go out with him?”

You grit your teeth, before meeting Jungkook’s gaze again. “Because we have history. But I promise you that after the shit date we just had, I’ll never see him again. Happy?”

He looks anything but happy, yet he still says, “Yeah.”

“Now, can I go eat in my room while you guys do whatever it is that you’ve been doing?”

You make the mistake of looking at the group in the living room, and you hate that they all quickly look away, pretending that they weren’t watching.

“Why don’t you stay with us?” Jungkook suggests. “To cheer you up.”

You settle your gaze back on him, and he really looks like he wants to cheer you up. He’s pouting slightly, a small crease between his brows as he looks at you intently. There’s a light in his eyes that you don’t want to interpret, not when you hear the echoes of him telling you that you would just pretend nothing ever happened.

Are you weak for being unable to tell him no? Maybe. But you’ll have plenty of time for regrets later.

“Okay,” you let out. “But you should chill on the alcohol, you reek of it.”

He narrows his gaze at you. “Here’s to trying to be nice to you, huh?”

You chuckle, mimicking his expression. “Poor you.”

“You steal my food and then sass me?” he says, tongue pushing on the inside of his cheek. It attracts your gaze to his mouth, and your heart once again squeezes, though this time it doesn’t hurt.

No, this time it makes blush spread on your cheeks, and you feel like you’re starting to burn under his gaze.

“You deserve it,” you declare, and then you’re walking around him to head to the living room.

He jogs to catch up to you, and once more grabs the bowl from your hands. It almost falls to the floor, but he effortlessly saves the noodles, and then motions with his elbow to the coffee table.

“Jae, clear the table please,” Jungkook says.

The guy – Jaehyun, you think? – obeys, though he grumbles the whole time. The unknown girl ends up helping him, and a few seconds later you’re seated in front of the coffee table, with Jungkook next to you. He sits so close you feel his thigh against yours, though he leans back into the couch, attention shifting to the TV, where Jimin and Eunwoo are playing a riveting game of Smash.

Everyone seems to forget that you’re there, and so you eat the noodles, trying your best not to think about Jungkook next to you. About the way you could easily cuddle in his side with a slight shift towards him…

Treacherous little thoughts. You don’t let them live in your head for longer than a few seconds, perhaps because the spice from the noodles overtakes everything. You wince, glancing at Jungkook, who catches your gaze, light dancing behind his pupils.

“You okay?” he asks as your cheeks burn.

“I forgot how spicy you like your food.”

He grins as you fan yourself. “You’ll get used to it. We just have to build up your tolerance.”

Then he does something incredibly stupid. You think his friends will notice, but they all erupt in cheers as they watch the TV, and Jimin slams Eunwoo’s character off the platform.

Jungkook’s large hand lands on your upper thigh. You’d say it’s possessive if you could produce any thoughts, but your brain zeroes in on the spot where he touches you, and you look down. He seems to realize it at the same time as you, and he quickly moves his hand away, frowning slightly.

He’s cute like this. Lips jutting out in a pout, a crease between his brows, confusion swirling in his gaze. Like he didn’t mean to touch you like that, the act done out of instinct.

We just pretend nothing happened, no?

His words clang through your mind, and you turn away from him. Eyes falling on the noodles, and you take a shuddering breath in. Your memories provide you with images of you and Jungkook, alone in this living room. Of an attraction that was inevitable, yet now it tastes bitter.

You’d like to be angry with him. For being so casual about everything, for wanting this over whatever secretive relationship you could have shared with him before Taehyung comes back. Maybe you’re stupid for wanting anything – the longer it would last, the more it would hurt. But as you force yourself to eat the food he cooked, you think the spice on your tongue isn’t really what’s hurting.

No, it’s your heart in your chest. It beats achingly, even more so as Jungkook ends up moving away from you, as if realizing through his drunken haze that he shouldn’t sit so close to you. That even if you tried to be friends, just friends, he’s already fucked you like there was no tomorrow. And during the power outage, it truly felt like there wasn’t any. Like you could just stay in that bubble outside of time.

When Jungkook ends up lying back with his head in that girl’s lap – Lisa, you now know – you pretend like you don’t wish it was you, running your fingers through his hair. You pretend like he’s not there, yet you see him in the periphery of your vision. You hear his laugh, know he smiles, and you wonder, is he just pretending?

Or is he attracted to that girl? You wouldn’t blame him. She matches his doe eyes, pretty features always hinting at a smile. She’s attractive, and you quickly understand that she is Sera’s best friend. Or at least it seems so, because she’s comfortable with the boys, and even more so with Jungkook.

You wouldn’t be surprised if they have history. Or if Jungkook is planning to get with her – hell, if you were a guy, you reckon she’d be the type of girl you’d want to get with.

Yet it hurts. It burns, and you find it hard to focus on the television. Even more so to participate in the conversation, and if someone notices, no one says anything. Perhaps because these are not your friends – no matter how friendly they might get, you’ll always be Taehyung’s little sister to them.

You’ll always be Taehyung’s little sister to Jungkook.

“Hey, do you want something to drink?” Jaehyun says, shaking you out of your thoughts.

You’re done eating by now, and you just turn to look at him, a startled look on your features. He chuckles at the sight, and you feel your cheeks burning.

“No, all good,” you tell him.

“Careful,” Jungkook says from behind you. “Tae’ll kill you if you speak to her.”

Now, Jungkook’s speech is definitely slurred. He’s drunk – you were aware of it before, but you hadn’t realized just how much. Indeed, when you turn to look at him, you know the bitter expression on his features is one he usually hides behind a mask.

Just like that you know that he indeed does care, in the weird, twisted way that Jeon Jungkook can care. It reassures you somehow, but also breaks your heart.

He was there, during the power outage. Did he, too, use it as a way to escape reality? Is he, too, regretting having to go back to normal?

You like to tell yourself that he does.

“Bruh,” Jaehyun lets out, and Jungkook quickly composes his features, offering a bland smile to his friend.

The others just keep speaking about whatever it is that they’re speaking of now, but you can tell Jungkook is upset. You don’t think it’s jealousy because of Jaehyun – he’s haunted, just like you.

He stays upset for a while. Drinking in silence, sitting up when Lisa says something to him and him only. She looks disappointed, and her eyes dart to you for a millisecond before she looks away. If she wants to blame you for Jungkook not wanting to cuddle with her anymore, then so be it.

Because you like that she’s not running her fingers through his hair anymore. Like that he sits between the two of you, and you imagine he’s just a little closer to you than he is to her. You’d want him to be – it’s a dangerous thought, much like all of your thoughts when it comes to Jeon Jungkook.

When Eunwoo suggests doing shots, Jungkook plasters a smile on his lips. You see it for the mask that it is, yet you don’t mention it. You long to reach between you and him, to smooth the lines on his brow away, but you don’t do anything. You accept the shot that’s handed to you, and a few minutes later, you let it burn down your throat.

After that, you decide to grab something to drink, only so that Jungkook won’t have to feel alone. Though you highly doubt he’ll realize the silent support that you offer him.

While you’re still in the kitchen, Lisa walks in, a pretty smile lighting up her equally pretty features. You freeze by the fridge, and she moves closer to you, casually saying, “Hey, how are you?”

You offer her a tight-lipped smile. “I’m okay. You… want anything to drink?”

She looks down at the lemonade you’ve gotten for yourself, nodding once. You hand it to her, and it takes her a few seconds before she grabs it, awkwardness lingering in the air. You take another one for yourself, and then you face her again, hoping she’ll be gone.

She hasn’t moved an inch. As a matter of fact, she’s looking at you pensively, nose slightly scrunched.

“You’re Taehyung’s sister?”

The question takes you aback. You widen your gaze, struck like lightning just hit, and your mouth falls open. You think you must look stupid, so you clear your throat, trying to escape the awkwardness.

“I am,” you reply. “You are?”

“Lisa! Sera’s friend,” she supplies, and she offers you a nice smile. “Something happened between you and Jungkook?”

Straight to the point, then. You’d expected her to circle around the pot, never really fully digging in, but she’s straightforward. You can only admire her for it, even though your heart starts hammering in your chest.

“What do you mean?”

She purses her lips, before chuckling. “Sorry, you probably think I’m crazy.”

You don’t know what to say, so you just remain silent, trying to figure out how to escape the situation. She notices your unease, and she winces.

“Yeah, sorry, I definitely made things awkward,” she says. “It’s just…”

“Peaaaach,” Jungkook yells from the door to the kitchen, and both you and Lisa startle. You meet his gaze over her shoulder, and he frowns, leaning against the doorframe. “What are you guys doing?”

Lisa turns towards him. “Just talking.”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. “Well then, why don’t you come just talk with everyone else?”

You stifle a laugh, right as Lisa glances at you over her shoulder. You offer her a tight-lipped smile, and then she shrugs, before walking away.

Jungkook moves out of the way to let her pass, and then he walks in, heading towards where you’re still standing next to the fridge.

“I’m…” he trails off, and he stumbles a little when he stops next to you. “I’m fucking drunk.”

You hear it in his speech. “You want water?”

“Water?” He narrows his eyes, shaking his head slowly. “No, I want beer.”

“Jungkook,” you scold. “You don’t look like you should be drinking more.”

He snorts, and steps closer to you, towering over you. You tilt your head back, though you don’t budge from where you’re standing, effectively blocking the fridge’s door.

“Move,” he tells you.

“Drink water first.”

He lands a gentle hand on your waist, pulling you flush against him. The sudden motion makes you shriek, and you push on his chest.

“Let me get a beer,” he tells you. He drops his head next to your ear, and his warm breath tickles the side of your face. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

“Listen,” you whisper, and you gulp as his lips ghost on the shell of your ear. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Yet when he does it again, your eyes flutter close, and you angle your head to the side to give him better access to your neck.

“It’s hard to pretend when you look so damn good,” he murmurs. “Always.”

“Jungkook…”

He shakes out of it, taking a step away from you. The sudden absence of contact feels like a cold shower, and you gulp again, this time to swallow the lump that was threatening to form in your throat.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Wow. You’re right. I need water.”

You watch him as he moves to the cupboard, grabbing a glass for himself. He fills it at the sink, and he drinks it all in one go, as if that simple gesture will be enough to sober him up. You highly doubt so, but you’re relieved as he pours himself another glass, this time leaning against the counter to drink it.

“What was that?” you ask him.

He sighs heavily, pulling at his piercings. “I don’t know.”

“You can’t do that,” you tell him. “Especially not when there are people around.”

That second sentence is uttered in a low secretive tone, but evidently he still hears. He shrugs, tongue pushing against his cheek.

“Sorry,” he repeats.

He does look apologetic, if not troubled. Like maybe he lost control of himself for a few seconds, and you see it for what it is – you left your mark on Jeon Jungkook. Because there was desire, in his voice, as he held you close to him. Want, in his half-lidded eyes, like you could just step back into that outer world the power outage consisted of.

But you can’t, and as the sober one, you realize you’ll have to be the one to maintain a safe boundary. No matter how much you hate it.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, and you clear your throat as you open your can. “You just caught me off-guard.”

He smirks lazily. “Liked it?”

The conversation is taking so many 180-degree turns that you feel dizzy, and you shut your eyes, before taking a long swig of the lemonade. It fizzles in your throat, and though it burns you force yourself to drink and swallow.

You only open your eyes to meet Jungkook’s gaze again when half of the can is gone. And you glance towards the door, knowing you’re betraying yourself when you say, “So what if I did?”

“Pretend, peach,” Jungkook says, and it’s almost condescending. “What would your brother say?”

You hate the reminder of Taehyung, but it does the trick. It douses you, and you escape Jungkook’s gaze by focusing on the tiles on the floor.

What would Taehyung say indeed. You wonder if he’d jump into a plane and come back right away. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, and some part of you believes it might be the only way to keep Jeon Jungkook away from you for the time being. Because without a chaperone around, it’s only bound to happen again.

Especially when he lets his mask of unbothered coolness go. Like he did just a second ago, making your bodily temperature spike. It’s yet to come down, and you take another drink of the lemonade, hoping that it will cool yourself.

“He’d probably say that he’d kill you, right?” you say, reminiscing about what he said to Jaehyun earlier.

“Oh,” Jungkook lets out, and he chuckles. “Definitely. As a matter of fact, I think I’m living on borrowed time now.”

You purse your lips. “So let’s pretend, right? Safer that way.”

He nods. “I really am sorry for that,” he says. “I don’t know where it came from.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him once more. “Just don’t ever do it again.”

“Ever?”

The question is accompanied by a pout, and you hate the way it makes your gut twist. Like butterflies catching flight, treacherous bugs to make you sick to your stomach.

“Stop,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Why are you such a shameless flirt?”

He’s grinning, yet he doesn’t say anything, only shrugging his shoulders and taking a sip of his water.

“What’s up?” Jimin says as he walks into the kitchen. He eyes you and Jungkook, and the safe distance between the two of you, before heading closer. “Is this like a lame roommate-only party the others can’t join?” he jokes, and you step aside to let him access the fridge.

“No,” you answer at the same time as Jungkook.

Jimin snorts. “What’s up with you two?”

“Nothing,” you quickly say, though your cheeks burn.

“Right.” He clearly doesn’t buy it, and he says, “Peach?”

You gulp. “Don’t ask me, he started calling me that last semester because of Mario Kart.”

“She always chooses Princess Peach!” Jungkook quickly adds, and you think perhaps you’re only digging the grave further.

“Last semester?” Jimin asks, and he’s got a knowing smile on his lips. He’s toying with you two, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“Yeah.”

Your gaze slides to Jungkook as if he has any support to offer, but you think it’s too late. Strangely, Jimin retreats, shrugging his shoulders.

“Whatever,” he lets out. “Why are you drinking water?”

Jungkook motions to you. “She suggested it. ‘Cause I’m pretty drunk.”

Jimin cocks an eyebrow, sending you a disbelieved look. “He’s been drunker than this, he can handle himself.”

“Why are you trying to get so plastered?” you ask, unable to help yourself.

Jimin purses his lips. “Why not?”

Why not indeed. It seems Jungkook only needed that encouragement to return to drinking, and you watch in horrified awe as he drinks and drinks, downing shots with his friends as soon as you return to the living room.

You’re not surprised he’s struggling to stand on his feet by the time his friends leave. Jimin and Sera linger for longer, Jimin offering you an apology when he realizes the monster he unleashed.

“I told you,” you say, sighing. “Now I’ll sleep to the sounds of him throwing up.”

Jungkook hiccups, raising a finger. “I’ll have you know.” He pauses, shutting his eyes as he sways. “I don’t throw up.”

“Yeah yeah, Jungkook,” Sera answers, and you stifle a laugh as he glares at her.

“Let’s just get you in bed before we leave,” Jimin says.

“And tell Lisa to stop looking at me like that,” Jungkook tells Sera, speech so slurred you’re not quite sure what he said.

It seems his friends also aren’t sure, because Sera says, “What?”

Jungkook looks at you, frowning. “I don’t know.”

“You’re fucked up,” Jimin says, and he starts laughing.

He’s not faring all that better, and he sways on his feet as he clasps Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook loses his balance, but he luckily just falls against the wall, slowly tilting to the side.

“Oh shit.”

All you can do is look at him as he eventually collapses, though he’s laughing the whole time. Jimin follows soon after, and Sera and you just look at them, eyes wide.

“You guys always drink so much?” you ask, directing the question to Sera.

“They do,” she replies, pointing to them. “Believe it or not but Taehyung’s the one that usually gets them not to drink too much.”

You cock an eyebrow in disbelief. “Yeah yeah.”

“I swear!” she insists, laughing that easy laugh of hers. “He only got too drunk that one time last semester.”

“And he threw up in the car,” you reminisce, while the guys do God knows what on the floor. “Hardly see that as a good influence.”

“He’s not,” Jungkook says from the floor, and you look down to see him sprawled on his back, Jimin giggling next to him. “Your brother is an asshole.” He looks serious for a few seconds, and then he bursts out laughing. You just remain silent, and he’s the one to speak next. “Can you help me?”

He does grabby hand motions at you, and you scrunch up your nose as if in disgust. “You can crawl to your room yourself, JK.”

He forces himself to sit up, leaning against the wall, as Jimin does the same next to him. Though Sera folds and helps Jimin after he’s offered her puppy eyes even you wouldn’t have been able to resist either.

“I’ll crawl to your room if you don’t help,” Jungkook threatens.

“Alright, let’s see you try.” The challenge hangs in the air between the two of you, as Sera and Jimin watch the scene unfolding.

Jungkook turns his head in the direction of your room, but then resumes his attention on you. “Too far.”

“Then sleep on the floor.”

“Are you for real?” he asks, and he sounds exasperated.

You groan, rolling your eyes, though you finally step closer to him. “We should have asked your friends…” you trail off looking at Jimin. “Your sober friends to help bring you to your room before they left.”

“Peach, I much prefer if it’s you tucking me in,” Jungkook teases as your hands close around his.

His are clammy, warm, but you ignore it, instead pulling him up. It’s a struggle, Jungkook a dead weight, but soon enough you manage to help him stand. He wobbles on his feet, and you hold onto his arm, trying to steady him.

“I won’t tuck you in,” you say through gritted teeth when he’s finally standing on his own.

You’re about to slide your gaze towards Jimin and Sera when Jungkook cups your cheek, and you think the Earth has stopped revolving around the sound. It stops abruptly, and you’re propelled forward, in those big eyes looking down at you like you’re the only thing in the universe.

You want to hate him. Right now, you want to hate him so bad for telling you to pretend nothing ever happened. Because it’s too natural to lean into his palm, too natural to get lost in his eyes.

How many girls has he ensnared with that sparkly gaze? How many of them have fallen for the trap, only to be abandoned when he’s done playing?

“What are you doing?” you ask him.

He blinks once, slowly, and then turns his head towards Jimin and Sera. Jimin’s mouth is agape, and Sera looks like she’s about to burst out laughing, that knowing glint in her eyes so bright it almost puts Jungkook’s gaze to shame.

“Shit, you’re still here?” Jungkook lets out.

“Not anymore!” Jimin quickly replies, and he tugs Sera towards the door. “We’re leaving. You guys do… whatever it is that you’re doing. We didn’t see anything.”

You move away from Jungkook, and his hand hangs in the air between the two of you for a few seconds before it falls aimlessly at his side. You take a step towards Jimin, calling his name.

He looks at you when he has an arm in the sleeve of his coat, the other one yet to be put on. “Yeah?”

“It’s nothing,” you say, trying to put as much conviction in your tone as you possibly can. “He’s just drunk.”

“Oh.” Jimin laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sure. I won’t say shit to Taehyung. I like Jungkook’s head on his shoulders.”

You gulp, your throat feeling so dry you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d die. “Who said anything about Taehyung?”

“Isn’t that what you were going to say?” he enquires.

You shoot a look towards Jungkook, who looks like a kid who’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t do. He’s pouting, eyes angled to the floor, and his hands are hidden in his pockets, as if he doesn’t trust them to not touch you right now.

“No?” you let out once you turn back towards Jimin and Sera.

Both of them finally have their coats on, but you think it’s too late. It’s too late – no matter what he says, Jimin will tell Taehyung. He’s a busybody, through and through, and you just know Taehyung’s ought to know by the time the sun rises tomorrow.

You can only hope you’ll be able to weather the storm when it’ll hit.

“I was just going to say…” you start, not really knowing where to head. “Honestly, nothing more than that – he’s just drunk. If you want to tell Taehyung that Jungkook’s handsy when he’s drunk, I don’t think that’ll surprise him.”

Jimin throws you a no-bullshit look, as if he was there during the power outage. As if he saw the way Jungkook held you, and the way he fucked you like it was the end of the world.

“To be fair, Jungkook is handsy all the time,” Sera cuts in. “Did you see how he was sprawled on Lisa earlier?”

You don’t know why she’s throwing you a lifeline. But you remain silent, not wanting to dig the grave deeper, and you just offer a nod and a tight-lipped smile to Jimin. He does look confused for a few seconds until he shakes his head as if trying to clear his thoughts.

“Whatever,” he eventually says. “I’m way too drunk for this shit anyway.”

And then he’s turning around, opening the door to step outside. Sera watches him go fondly, before turning towards you again.

“Sorry about that,” she apologizes on behalf of her boyfriend. “He really is drunk.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure her as you walk to the door. You hug her goodbye, before holding the door open for her. “I’ll see you guys around.”

“See you!” Jimin yells from the bottom of the stairs, and you wince hoping you won’t get a noise complaint.

“Shut up,” Sera hisses through her teeth, and Jimin throws an apologetic look in your direction before his girlfriend grabs his arm, forcing him to follow her as she walks away.

You look at them for a few seconds before shutting the door behind you, and it takes you a moment to gather the courage to face Jungkook again. A moment of you looking at some chipped paint on the door, wondering how it is that the stars aligned to put you in such a compromising position with your brother’s best friend.

How is it that he had to seduce you, only to walk away like nothing happened after? It makes your blood boil in your veins, and you turn around with ire in your gaze, directed at the man leaning against the wall.

He’s still staring at the floor, his features blank. You wonder what’s going on in that thick head of his. Is he regretting this? Is he realizing that no amount of pretending will ever be enough to cover the fact that you did the irreparable, together?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you ask him, venom dripping from your voice.

He looks startled, big eyes going wide as saucers as he meets your gaze. “What?”

“Now Jimin’s going to be onto us!” You vaguely motion behind you, before folding your arms on your chest. “I know you’re drunk, but you’ve got to fucking control yourself.”

“Hey, fucking chill out, will you?”

You see red. You see blood red, like a bull and its red flag, and you cross the distance between you and him. He waits for you, lips spreading in a lazy smirk as he leans his head against the wall, only so that he can look down his nose at you. You stop right in front of him, finger pointed towards his features.

“Don’t tell me to fucking chill.”

“Or what?” He tilts his head to the side, the perfect picture of arrogance.

“Or I don’t know, Jungkook,” you drawl, shutting your eyes in annoyance. “Don’t you care that Taehyung might be onto us because of Jimin?”

He huffs a breath, and you open your eyes to glare at him. His tongue toys with his piercing, before pushing on the inside of his cheek.

“He won’t be,” Jungkook affirms like it’s the truth to the universe. “Why would he? Because we’re hanging out? Nah, we did that even before he left.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Not like that.”

“Like what?” he pushes.

You sigh, fists clenched so hard they’re leaving moon-crescent indents in your palms. “Like we’re friends. You touching me. All that shit.”

“I thought you like when I’m touching you,” Jungkook says, voice dropping an octave.

You stare at him in disbelief, quite at the same time as your heart starts racing in your chest.

“Shut up.”

He raises his hand in defence. “Sorry. It’s hard to help myself when you’re looking at me like that, peach.”

You try to school your features into neutrality, but you don’t know if it works. Don’t know if he can tell that your blood is rushing to your cheeks, threatening to have the effects of his words show on your face.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me,” he murmurs, and a finger of his finds your clenched fist, tapping gently on it. He doesn’t stop there – his digit slowly moves up your arm, and all you can do is stand, frozen in place. “Like you’re mad I suggested pretending that nothing happened.”

You hate him. You really do. You don’t understand how he’s able to say this shit when he’s drunk, but then again, maybe he’s wanted to say it sober, but his inhibitions were keeping him in check. Now, nothing forms a barrier between his mind and his mouth, and the words come forth to taunt you, tease you.

To make your heart race in your chest as you look up at those big doe eyes.

“I’m not mad,” you insist, swatting his hand away. “I agree with the statement. He’s your friend, he’s my brother. We shouldn’t have fucked at all.”

He nods. “See? I knew you saw the wisdom of it.”

Now, it hurts. It almost hurts enough to cut through the blinding anger in your blood, though you cling to the anger like it’s a buoy. You cling to it like it’s the path to safety, and maybe it is.

Maybe it is, because Jeon Jungkook is danger personified.

So, you roll your eyes, gently patting his chest. “Then stop. Fucking. Touching. Me,” you say, tapping on his chest with every word uttered.

He sucks on his piercing, and you think his gaze has gone darker. It’s clouded with lust, all directed at you. When he looks at you like that, you feel like the rest of the world goes out of focus, like all there is is him.

Which is quite frankly the reason why you need to stay away from him. To never let him approach you again, to never lower your guard with him again. For Taehyung, yes, but also for your heart that’s barely recovered from Sam Hwang.

It’s strange, to think that you started the evening with Sam, only to finish it so close to Jungkook. To finish with so little distance between you and Jeon Jungkook that you fear you might crash in his orbit once more.

“You’re the one touching me right now, peach,” he says, voice so low it almost sounds like a growl.

And you are. You’ve laid your hand flat on his chest, and you can feel the racing of his heart under your palm. You make to move your hand away, but he quickly puts his hand over yours, clammy fingers keeping you close.

“Let me go,” you breathe out.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

His sentence makes you insane. Makes the red spark to life again, and you quickly step away. It’s like you were in a trance – you blink once, twice, and Jungkook appears in all his drunk glory again. He looks at you carefully, the lust fading as he beholds the emotions on your face, the mask you’ve let slip.

“Don’t ever tell me that again,” you warn him.

“Why?”

“Just don’t,” you insist, scoffing. “You can’t kiss me, I can’t kiss you, we-“

Jungkook interrupts you by grabbing your face and crashing his lips on yours. You’d expected it – you’re the mere comet, and he the star. Though you might have come from Kuiper’s belt, Jungkook has been pulling you in, and there’s no escaping his gravity.

So even though you shouldn’t, you kiss him back. You kiss him back, pushing him back towards the wall. He hits hard, and he huffs out a breath that you swallow as your tongue darts in his mouth. You taste the alcohol on his breath, but more than that you taste him – the inebriating taste of Jeon Jungkook makes your mind spin in no time, and you’re forced to take a step back.

To take a step back and look at his pink lips, now swollen from the kiss. His eyes remain closed, and his breathing is ragged, chest going up and down quickly, much like yours is, too.

“Don’t kiss me again,” you say.

And you walk away. You don’t look at him once before slamming the door to your room shut, hands shaking so hard you think you’ll break. The shaking threatens to take over your whole body, and you almost expect Jungkook to follow you.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t, and the sound of his door softly shutting is like a flatline, haunting you terminally. Like there will be nothing more after that than the memories of his lips on yours, of his hands tracing the curves of your body.

Though it might be sad, though every inch of your body is craving for his touch, you need to be sane. You need to stop before you both get in too deep. Because, even though you could have him now, even though he’s just on the other side of the wall, the moment Taehyung is back, it would have to be over.

You don’t want to get involved with someone that you’re only bound to lose anyway.

You don’t sleep after that, sleep evading you in favour of your spiraling thoughts. You let them carry you like the tornado that they are – you’re in too deep already.

What will be left of you when the tornado spits you out?

Prev | Chapter 6.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Ughhhhh they are annoying I love them. What did you guys think? Let me know <3

483 notes · View notes

mooishbeam · 10 months

Text

『♡』 Extra Credit

♡ featuring: gojo & geto x f!reader

♡ summary: class is getting too hard for you, so you seek help. unfortunately, the help you receive is not what you expected. wc: 2.8k+

♡ cw/tw: manipulation, praise, light degradation, throat-fucking, edging, threesome, spit roasting, rough sex, pretty mean gojo, cum play

notes: helloo! a slightly shorter one this time. hope u like :) my first jjk fic!! art by _3aem on twitter <3

You twiddle your sparkly pen with your fingers and eye the blank page. Chemistry-201 started an hour ago, and you’ve got nothing to show for it. Truthfully, you were exhausted thinking about having to attend. College was easy for the most part, even calculus. You couldn’t tell anyone the reality behind your performance block in this specific class. The excuse your friends heard was, “The slides are hard to read.” They were hard to read, but they’d probably be clearer if you actually looked at them. What you did like to look at, were the boys who sat two rows in front of you in lecture hall. The one with frosty hair would whisper through the entirety of class, while the quiet one diligently wrote down organized notes. That’s how you picked up their names:

“Quiet, Gojo.” he snapped, tapping the paper with his pencil as if Gojo would catch the hint. He smiled and poked his temple. “Chill Geto, the best doesn’t need to study.”

Geto sighs and waves his hand. “Not everything is about you.”

“Why not?”

Geto and Gojo you thought. Their names were sweet on your tongue. You squeezed your thighs together, imagining how their names would sound on your lips. On rare occasions, Geto would face your direction. Even though it wasn’t for you, it felt special, like you were the only person in the room. You wanted someone as hardworking and kind as him to notice you. Sometimes you’d catch yourself sketching the back of his head, promptly shredding the page after the bell. What started to unnerve you was Gojo, who was always aware of your shy glances even when his back was turned. His crystalline azure eyes bore into yours and you’d fumble for anything to look at. Even when you daydreamed dirty scenarios, he reads your mind. It made you feel guilty. When your professor dismissed you, you’d scattered up the steps, bag already packed. This strategy was efficient until the day you dropped your book walking out of class. Pale slender hands grabbed it before you could reach it. “Ah! Thank you-” You met eyes with Gojo, smiling above you like reborn divinity. You almost felt the urge to bow. “Gotta be careful, yeah? This shit's expensive.” You nodded another thank you and took the book, hasting away so he couldn’t see your flustered face.

All these minor incidents accumulated into the major issue currently surfacing; you are on the cusp of failing. Your parents readily applauded the other classes, perfect A’s. Just visualizing the scenario where you show them a D sends you into grief. You vow to change this outcome today. Your final exam is in a month and a half, enough space to master important subjects. No distractions, no Geto and Gojo. You meet with student resources after Chemistry to inquire about your study options and settle on weekly tutoring. You’re determined and prepared to give your all for this exam.

Next week arrives and you're full of vigor. You try your best to rationalize each problem, no matter how wrong you are; and you were very wrong, frequently. You’re mentally apologizing in advance to your tutor. You see Geto and Gojo quietly bickering. Gojo has long pretty eyelashes, and you can’t stop glancing at them. They swiftly point to you. Nothing unusual, until—for the first time—Geto turns to you. His eyes are fixated solely on you. You're startled and knock over your water bottle, pouring it all over your notebook. A domino effect ensues. The valuable notes you took smear from the liquid, and it drips from the table onto your mini skirt. You stand to dodge it but your open bag tips over and out the chair, spilling the contents all over the floor. The room is silent, and everyone in your vicinity is staring. Time stops as you gather your stuff and leave the hall to dry yourself. You’re in the bathroom now, dying from embarrassment as your brain recalls the moment repeatedly. The sly smirk on Gojo’s face. I have to get over this you thought. Your session is in an hour, and you don’t want to waste crucial experience. Surely it can’t get worse than this.

You show up five minutes early and patiently wait for their arrival. Fortunately, you’re afforded a closed off workspace with the tutor. You draw dainty flowers in your book until the door creaks open. To your surprise, you see tidy black hair and chiseled features. It’s Geto. Your personal tutor is Geto. The stars must’ve aligned to dispatch one horrific cataclysm. You contemplate what you could’ve done to the gods for them to punish you so harshly. He pretends that he’s never seen you. “(Y/N), right? My name is Geto, I’ll be tutoring you for the rest of the semester.” His professionalism makes you breathe easier, and you’re relieved, content with maintaining this attitude. Together you set up your notes and the first 15 minutes go without a hitch, simply reviewing the topics you grapple with.

“A lot of these are early concepts. They’re used in basically every class. Forgive me if this offends you, but how do you not know these?”

“Ah, I get a bit distracted.”

“By what?”

“Oh… um.” You shift your thighs back and forth, pondering a justifiable answer, oblivious to the way Geto ogles them. "I just have a hard time focusing.”

He scans your tight fitted shirt, then your lips. “I see.” Suddenly, the door swings open. Bright orbs piercing you, capturing you. You drop your head, hoping he won’t recognize you from the scalp.

“Yo Geto, look at this game I- oops.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to barge in while I’m tutoring?”

“Haha, sorry ‘bout that…wait, I know you!” He exclaims. Gojo snatches a chair and sits so you’re sandwiched between them. Intently skimming the textbook as if you didn’t hear him, he grabs your cheeks and twists you to him.

“You’re the girl that wet herself today, right?” He laughs.

“C’mon, she's dealt with enough already.” Your wishful thinking fell on deaf ears; they clearly didn’t forget that easily.

“Heh, it’s too funny though. Geto, I told you about her remember? She’s always looking at us in class.” he teases. You felt a shiver go up your spine and your face get hotter. “That isn’t-”

“Shh” Gojo interrupts you. “Tell me, are we more handsome now that you have a closer look?” Your heart drops to your stomach and you stumble over your words.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to look. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m deeply sorry.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I like the shy type.”

“I think I should go.” You try to rise, but Geto pulls you from your skirt. If they wanted you, they would have you. "I didn’t permit you to leave. Sit. We'll continue.”

“I don’t know if I should-”

“Are you disrespecting the time I’m putting in to ensure you end with a decent grade?” he questioned. You went meek, reconsidering the effort you’d be wasting, and how badly you wanted Geto to acknowledge that effort.

“No. I’ll do it.” His smile is saccharine and alluring, masking the dark intentions pulling at his conscious.

“Great. Next chapter.”

You’re eight paragraphs in, a sheer glistening sweat on your legs. You can barely mouth the words. Gojo’s breath is painfully close to your ear, tickling it as he follows along the page, his thumb running under the hem of your thigh high socks. “You wore these for me, yeah?” he whispers. You clamp your thighs, and a scheming grin creeps up his face. Meanwhile Geto’s fingers are behind your neck, brushing it gently with his other hand steady on top of yours. The bare skin contact is disorienting, so much so that you hadn’t noticed you’ve read the same sentence for the past minutes.

“(Y/N)?” You snap out of an affectionate trance. “Huh?”

“Is something troubling you?” His nose is inches away from yours, taunting you.

“Mm, no.” Your trembling voice exposes the truth. “You seem frustrated. Do you need help alleviating that frustration?” Such a straightforward question is nerve-wracking. You've only imagined this in your dreams, calling out both of their names. The scandal that unfolds if people find out would be reputation-shattering for you. But desire burning in your dampening core blanketed those worries. “I don’t know what to say.”

“(Y/N), when someone offers you something, you should accept it and say thank you” Gojo adds. His hand slides deeper in your socks, groping the plush fat.

“Do you want it, yes or no?” The decision tosses in your mind. Until you finally manage a soft-spoken “yes.” Instantly, the air in the room switches, their gaze encapsulating you like prey. You feel smaller.

“This won’t be easy, though. I’m teaching you concentration. If you get through this quiz with us touching you, I’ll reward you. Understand?” Geto says. You nod at him like a lost puppy, ready to please him.

The quiz starts with ten entry-level questions. You get to work, and they get to devour you. Gojo parts your legs, salivating from the strings of slick sticking to your underwear and inner thighs. He litters kisses and lustful bruises along your neck, his hands trailing to your chest. Geto’s hands hike your skirt up and move to your underwear, circling the erect nub through the fabric. You’re on question three and can hardly achieve a scribble. He pulls your panties to the side and spreads your folds, toying with the mess. You have a loose hold on his shirt that tightens whenever he presses on the bundle of nerves. His fingers are skillful, knowing the right buttons to push to coax whimpers out of you. Meanwhile, Gojo tugs your shirt up, exposing your nipples to the cool air. He flicks one with his tongue, then envelopes your breast in his warm wet mouth. He sucks and bites the bud, tasting it and fondling the other. He moans, light pops as he comes up, gazing into you for approval. The walls are thin, you can’t get caught, but you need them deeper. They make you fall apart just to punish you, a sharp sting from Geto’s palm directly on your clit.

“If you can’t keep your voice down, I’m gonna stop. Are you sure you can handle it?” Geto teases. He definitely isn't stopping, but your panicked, yearning expression made his cock twitch.

“Yes! I’m sorry, I can be quiet.”

“I don’t know, you seem to be struggling. You wanna make me proud, right?” You nodded frantically.

He places a gentle, almost manipulative kiss on your lips. “Good girl. Then you’ll take everything I give you.” His digits glide vertically on your vulva until they slip inside, scissoring and massaging your g-spot. You somehow make it to question 6, but your mushy thoughts aren’t sure if they can recover from the rhythmic pumping and juices running down his knuckles. Gojo releases you for air, bite indentations dotting your mounds. “Geto. Switch?”

“Okay.” He says and begrudgingly drags his fingers out. You whine from the emptiness, but Gojo quickly replaces him. He gets under the table on his knees and forces your legs wider, appreciating the upcoming feast. His pink muscle licks a long harsh strip against you. The new sensation makes your back arch, and your hand cards through his hair.

“Too sensitive? Aww.” He moves roughly, slurping and lapping up everything he can get his mouth on. His grasp is tight, even with all your strength pushing him off is a challenge. Question nine passed, still shaking and stuttering. Geto pinches and twist your nipples but showers the pain with loving kisses. He pecks the back of your neck. You’re so close you start to involuntarily buck your hips. Gojo stops immediately, grinning at your frustrated cries, your essence covering his jaw and chin. “Don’t come yet, wanna feel you.”

“One more question, baby.” Geto says, caressing the swollen marks. You put your heart into finishing the last problem, an unintelligible number for your response. You can’t decipher the words; all you want is Geto’s praise. He takes the pencil out of your hand and counts the correct solutions.

“8 out of 10. I’m so proud of you, angel.” None of your answers were right. But he relished how effortless it was to make you happy, how much you starved for his attention. He searched to lock you away where no one could find you. You’re beaming nevertheless, smothered by his kindness.

“C’mere. Taste yourself.” Gojo husks before French kissing you, tongues intertwined. He moans into your mouth. “Want your reward now?”

“Please” you rasped, and he picks you up, pressing your stomach flat on the desk. Geto wraps around in front of you. He pulls his throbbing cock out and lifts your chin, propping it on your lips. “Open.” he coos. You loll your tongue out, looking up at him expectingly. He smiles and drives his length into you until your nose is flush with his pubes. His cockhead is deep in your throat, it burns, but you’re the center of his world in this moment and it makes it worth the ache. You worship it, savor him. Hollowing out your cheeks, you start bobbing your head. You drool on his balls, gently sucking them and tracing his veins with your tongue. His moans are breathy and deep, hand firm on the back of your head to prevent you from bailing. He denies your pleas for air.

Gojo taps his leaking tip against your clit a few times and slides himself in, whimpering from the soaking grip molding to his shaft. “A-ah, so tight.” he choked. His balls collide with your ass, and your orgasm hits hard. You tremble, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as you try to ride it out. But Gojo doesn’t let you and jerks your arms behind you with one hand. He pounds deep and fast, noisy plaps and squelching fervor pushing your limits; at the same time, Geto is face-fucking you. You were sure students heard the commotion by now. The men ravaging you sent a trail of fire crawling up your body. Tears smear on your face, gagging spit drips from your bottom lip, a mixture of fluids soak your socks, but your fuzzy senses can only drown in their pleasure. The spring coiling in your body is quick. Gojo’s tip kisses your g-spot perfectly and you embrace him. “Hey, you on the pill?” he asks. You're about to answer but he shoves your head down to Geto’s hilt. “Never mind, I don’t care.”

Geto’s movements quicken. Your disheveled face sends him over the edge. He blesses you with his creamy hot gift, spurting inside your gullet, accompanied by guttural sighs. “Swallow all of it.” You struggle but slowly get it down. You polish off the rest of his twitching length in revere and open your mouth for proof. “That’s my good girl.” He pats your head, and you lean into the warmth. Waiting for his confirmation.

“You wanna come? I’ll let you come, baby.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, you do it when I tell you to.” Gojo snaps. Tears prickled your lashes from overstimulation. Your whimpers stream out the room and he laughs through breathy whines. “Little pervert. You want people to hear you getting railed?”

“It's t’much! Gojo I can’t-”

Geto cradles your jaw. “(Y/N). Ask him for permission.” He is suddenly stern, and you obey him.

“Please lemme come!” you babble. His concern is clouded with sin.

“Yeah? Beg for it.” An orchestra of please’s sing, and you mean it, but Gojo didn’t care. He’d much rather watch your rippling ass and melting figure. Each thrust has you incoherent, and you plead more, enough to satisfy his smug demeanor.

“That’s better. Now come for me, all over my cock.” His command splinters, and your gushy walls convulse to form a white ring around the base. Gojo’s strokes get desperate as he approaches his release from your slippery heat. He pulls out and holds you in place, a few pumps before he shoots ropes across your ass and paints your vulva. “Yeah- you’re so fucking good.” he moans, mumbling and quivering through his orgasm.

They get dressed while you lie on the desk. You’re breathless and trembling, but they’re focused on cleaning themselves up. Gojo gets eye level with you.

“If you tell anyone, you know I’ll ruin your life, right? Keep it hush.” You can’t speak. He grabs your panties off the floor and pockets them. “These are cute. Imma keep it.” Geto reties his hair and smiles at you. “See you later.”

They abandon you, covered in come and items strewn across the table. You’re left to wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. One thing was undeniable, however; you were really looking forward to next week.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto smut #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 3 months

Text

The way of the water

request: can i have some kaz x grisha!reader where she's a tidemaker and during a heist he falls into the water and she uses her powers to pull him out and helps him through a panic attack? hurt/comfort and preferably established relationship pls and thx

a/n I am so tired that I do not know what this is. And I really apologize if it is bad.

warning: drowning?, fear of water, not really played into his touch aversion.

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Kaz was convinced that you were simply his best investment. A quick and smart way of dealing with his fear of water. He had torn earth and sky. Put at least five bullets between different merchants' eyes before he found you locked in a glass tomb. For a moment, you looked repulsive to him. Floating in the water like a corpse. But then again, he remembered the gossip. The way the creature was forced into a trance. It had been the only way to drag you out of the village the salesman had raided once the word about your kind spread. Just you didn’t remind him of a creature...

“Unlock her," Kaz had muttered to Jasper, who had stood gaping like a fish himself, “and I don’t know... offer her water." Kaz had glanced one more time at you. “Very funny, boss," Jasper hissed. “You do know that she could bite my head off and drown me once I...", but Jasper was only met with a slam of the door.

The weeks that followed left Kaz both satisfied and frustrated. You had tried to run only five times in a span of two weeks. In an angry haze, Kaz had locked you against the staircase railing. Much to everyone’s displeasure. But then he only managed to sit in his office for an hour before he found himself reaching for his cane.

“Extend your leg," he muttered, watching as the droplets fell to the floor. Your angry eyes darted toward him. “Sometimes I’m glad you can’t move blood," he muttered under his breath. “Careful, maybe you don’t know all of my tricks," you huffed, pulling your chained leg beneath yourself. Kaz inhaled deeply. He needed you. There was no use in you if you just sulked.

“You do know that I wasn’t the one who brought you here. I saved you from a very bleak existence. You should be thankful," he said blankly. “My apologies; you want me to bow or kneel?”, you scowled back. “I don’t want to exploit you, I..." Kaz swallowed thickly. He hadn’t told anyone why he had been so close to obsessively looking for you. He was sure they had found their conclusions on their own. “I need your help," he finished.

Kaz watched as curiosity flicked in your gaze. He knew that you weren’t going to ask. You could very well just sit there for hours. “I don’t like... I have a complicated relationship with water." For some reason, Kaz was waiting for you to start laughing. Make a joke. But the expression on your face didn’t change. If anything, the harsh frown eased up. “It… I had to be near corpses during the plague”, Kaz pulled at the suit he was wearing as his throat slowly closed up with anxiety. But then, in a heartbeat, the air in the room shifted. The dripping of the leaks in the roof faded to nothing. Kaz lifted his head to assess the droplets turning to mist the moment they entered the room. Once he glanced back down, he found you standing with the chained leg extended to him. He held your gaze for a moment before nodding. A silent understanding taking shape between you both.

“It’s an easy job. Pick up the document and go." It had been a while since any job had come into Kaz’s view. One he would like to take on, at least. Until now. He needed that handbook, the new shipment trades, and the new substance that had leaked into the market. “Worst-case scenario, there’s a harbor," Kaz tapped onto the map. His eyes caught yours across the room. He had sworn to never involve you in the Six Crows business but caved in after watching you wilt into nothing for weeks. So now he just offered you the safest job he could find. To stand watch. To leave false trails. To watch his back if a big body of water was near.

“Fourth floor. You will go through here." Kaz quickly averted his gaze. “I will scale the outside wall." He could hear the sharp breath you had taken in. He knew why. The side wall was bordered by the edge of the dock. Kaz swallowed thickly and said, “Get me that fucking book," before folding the map up and showing it into the top drawer of the desk.

The salty water kissed your skin as you slowly walked into the waves. You knew that Kaz watched you from his spot. You could feel his eyes on you. It had been weird the last few months. Going from full terror to finding a strange family of sorts. Yet still, it was Kaz who intrigued you the most. It was unusual the relationship between you two. If you could even call it that. You rarely talked, but then it never felt like you had to. He understood. And when he wanted you to be there when he tried to overcome his fear of water, you would just linger there. Like a phantom touch. Guarding him. And then he would stand there looking at you for hours. Eyes pouring more than words could ever tell.

You are the one watching him now. Like a shadow. Crawling up the wall. Each move is calculated, each move is planned out. Covered by the waves crashing against the shore. It always bugged you in the moments when you couldn’t see him. When he was inside the building, outside of your sight. You couldn’t protect him there. Even if Jasper had told you time after time that it was you and all of them that needed saving from Kaz, not the other way around.

A loud bang sent your head shooting up to the balcony. Voices following through. Shouts. Glass braking. The light flickering on throughout the whole upper floor. One that was supposed to stay undisturbed. Your own heart picked up in pace. Then the dark coat appeared, swaying in the wind. Another figure leaped upfront. The two wrestle in the tight spaces. A loud snap. And there it was. The time stopped still as a flash of Kaz’s face eliminated by the moon glimpsed by right as his body was forced over the railing. You had barely managed to swallow his name while diving into the waves. Forcing your body to move as fast as possible.

The free fall felt short, but the impact of the water felt as if Kaz had been drowning for an eternity. He didn’t even realize that he was falling into the water. He was prepared for hard ground. But the panic that filled his body when he was submerged made him let out a gasp. Filling his lungs with salty water. Memories of the past clasped clammy hands all over him, dragging him deeper and deeper. The light from the moon fading away.

And then it’s as if he’s wrapped in an invisible net. Kaz blinks once, and it’s you there. Right in front of him. By some absolute stupidity, he tries to call out your name. Letting more water into his lungs. Your eyes grow big, and then your fingers are grasping for him. Kaz catches that apologetic expression on your face before you pull him closer to you. Lips crashing into his, and at once it feels as if his lungs don’t remember how to breathe or how to welcome that gust of oxygen. But he’s holding onto you regardless. Feeling the fear fade away until it all goes black.

“Look at me," you frantically tap at Kaz’s cheek. Breathing heavily. The very tips of the waves still kissing your legs. You didn’t have enough energy to pull you both out fully. Feet slipping beneath the wet sand. Making you fall over, with Kaz’s body following right with you. "Kaz," you press your ear against his chest, trying to listen for a heartbeat, but you’re too anxious and too shaky to distinguish anyway.

“Why aren’t you waking up? Wake up!" You whine in frustration, pressing your lips against his now-blue ones. A kiss from you had to be enough. Had to breathe him back to life. You couldn’t have been too late. Couldn’t have. And then Kaz jerks, sitting up in a rush, his pained coughs slipping past his lips. You don’t dare to touch him now. You know he doesn’t like it. You had already overstepped as it was, but now.

“What the fuck?", he hissed through clenched teeth, making you drop your gaze. “Are you out of your mind?”, Kaz was coughed once again. Now you could see a sharp gash in his forehead. Still leaking blood. Your fingers traced the wet sand. “I saved it," you muttered, handing him the book he had come for—one that fell alongside him into the water. Kaz rips it out of your grasp, throwing it to the side. His fingers wrap around your wrist. “Are you insane?”, he hisses, pulling you closer. “You could have gotten hurt; they could have very well shot at you." His words hit you like a blow, leaving you speechless as you glanced up at him.

“Your arm." You want to laugh at how insane this is. Had you too hit your heads? Why is he concerned with... “What happened to your hand?” Kaz demands, making you glance down at the torn flesh. He was too heavy for you to lift up the dock. You tried. Unfortunately, that resulted in you slipping, and since you were too afraid to let go of his body, your arm met the sharp edge of the hook that was left carelessly there.

The sound of the shirt being ripped makes you blink. And here he stands. Taring his shirt up before grasping your hand as he wraps it around. “Your head," you mutter, "You," "It’s a scuff," Kaz grunts, his fingers shaking the longer he touches you. You back away slightly, not wanting him to do something he’s uncomfortable with. But Kaz’s wild eyes meet yours, making you still. “Next time," he breathes out, “Next time, you swim away without looking back.”

He drops your arm, turning away from you. Brushing his shaky fingers through his messy hair. “There will be no next time," you mutter, making Kaz turn around so quickly it makes you jolt. “There will be no next time," you continue once again, “because I will be right there, right under, and you will never get to feel what drowning feels like." Your hands wrap into fists as angry tears roll down your face. Kaz shakes his head. “You silly girl," he huffs, stopping closer to you. Not daring to touch you, but enough to feel your body close. Enough to feel whatever that is left of both of your bodies's warmth bouncing off of each other. Kaz takes a deep breath, "I would rather drown over and over again than see you get hurt again.”

#kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x oc #kaz x you #kaz brekker six of crows #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #kaz x reader #kaz brekker #the six of crows x reader #the six of crows imagine #the six of crows #the six of crows x you

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ghettogirly · 16 days

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Ok, What about armando aretas finding out you're pregnant with his baby. He found the stick (anywhere doesn't matter).

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍:

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍��: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

-> synopsis: what would armando be like if he found out you was pregnant?

-> theme: angst and fluff.

-> warnings: mention of abortion, mature language.

-> authors note: i’m currently posting this to keep you guys fulfilled while im working on some short stories. those take longer than these little headcanons so i apologise for the wait! hope you enjoy!! Let me know if you guys want a taglist as well.

[🕷️] 𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:

-> 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 that you was pregnant about a week ago when you kept throwing up in the morning and was more light headed than usual.

-> telling your friends about your symptoms one day at brunch caused them all to look at you with widened eyes, their faces being explicit with the same expression. Fear.

-> “bitch, you’re pregnant.”

-> “what is armando going to think about this?”

-> what is armando going to think about this.

-> she was right.

-> you guys have never even discussed having kids before, both still being fairly young as you were under the age of 25.

-> you only worked in a cake shop as you was still a student, trying to finish your college degree.

-> the weight of your friends opinions dawned on you as you slowly sipped the lemonade you bought, the icy temperature of the drink awakening your nerves.

-> “fuck.”

-> 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊 laid there on the marble countertop as both of your hands were rested by it side by side. Your hair hung down as you stared at it.

-> It was really true. You was pregnant.

-> The overwhelming thoughts clouded your mind, removing the ability for you to be happy about the idea of motherhood. Instead somber about this rude awakening. It wasn’t meant to happen now. Was it ever supposed to happen?

-> You and Armando never even spoke about the possibility of kids, just focusing on your free-spirited relationship as you both did whatever you pleased. Parties, meetings, the thrill of running from danger, running from law enforcement.

-> That was all going to change.

-> A wet feeling landed on your hand. Then another and another. It was teardrops. The transparent dots of water dropped onto your hand, staining them a little. Eventually an avalanche of tears would cascade down your face, causing you to uncontrollably sob as the obsessive thoughts became more and more out of control.

-> “Babe, ¿Estás aquí?”

-> Your eyes quickly widened as you heard a voice downstairs in the living room, the only man having that deep of a voice, your man. Armando. Quickly wiping your tears, you threw the stick into the bin next to the toilet, walking out of there as if nothing happened.

-> However, it was as if Armando sensed something was wrong. Not being a man of many words, he just simply raised his eyebrow at you, referencing for you to tell him what’s wrong. Yet, you just rolled your eyes and smiled. “Nothing is up.”

-> Still not satisfied he looked at you intensely, his face stoic as ever. Nevertheless, he left it alone and trusted you to tell him eventually. “Perdón por llegar tarde, estaba ocupado.”

-> You bring him into a hug, not caring about him being late. Just being happy he’s finally home. He wrapped his arms around you, engaging with the hug as his pointer finger tapped you gently on your back. That being a little thing he does, acknowledging how much he missed you.

-> 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃, you was passed out on the couch after watching a movie with Armando. Your empty takeout boxes being on the table.

-> Armando went upstairs to shower, allowing the water to cleanse not only his body but his mind too, the day for him being exhausting. He moved his hand to turn the water faucet off, his black hair being a wet mess, dripping slightly on his shoulders.

-> The male opened the shower door. Picking up the towel from the sink, he noticed something stand out from his peripheral vision. He moved his head slightly to turn towards the object that caught his attention, noticing a blue and white stick on top of the trash within the bin.

-> Peering down at it, he noticed it to be a pregnancy stick. “¿Qué es esto..?”

-> 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏, you notice Armando in front of you. Slamming the object down onto the table, he looked at you. Anger controlled every feature of his face as he stood there. Digusted.

-> “Espero que lo estés terminando.”

[🕷️] 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆:

-> 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐖𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑. You slowly sat up, facing him as his eyes were struck with concern. Still adjusting to reality, you rubbed your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

-> There he gently placed the stick on the table. Not saying a word, just looking back at you, waiting for you to lead the conversation. “I was going to tell you.”

-> “It was in the trash.”

-> You couldn’t object to that, he was right. You wasn’t really going to tell him, hoping that it was all just a lie and that the stick wasn’t even real. Hoping it was one big dream.

-> Looking at him solemnly, you felt your eyes welling up with tears the second time that day. This time, he didn’t say anything but embraced you into a hug instead, kissing your forehead.

-> “Enfermo nunca te dejan.. i would never abandon you.”

-> Those words were the music to your ears. “Damn these pregnancy hormones are annoying.”

[🕷️] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“¿Estás aquí?” : Are you here?

“Perdón por llegar tarde, estaba ocupado.” : Sorry for being late, i was busy.

“¿Qué es esto..?” : What is this?

“Espero que lo estés terminando.” : I hope you’re terminating it.

“Enfermo nunca te dejan..” : I’ll never leave you.

#jacob scipio #armando aretas #imagines #reactions #headcanon #armando lowry #badboys ride or die #armando armas #bad boys #headcannons #short story #stories #armando x female oc #armando x reader #armando lowery #scenarios #angst #fluff

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petals2fish · 2 months

Text

He’s shirtless.

He’s fucking standing there, shirtless.

Lily did not know what to do with her hands, or eyes, or legs, or hair. She’s frozen in the middle of the field where she’d been meeting Marley for a post practice walk back to the castle for the Slug Club meeting. Marley was busy blabbering on about Anna Spinnet getting on her nerves, going on and on about some rule book thing.

Maybe.

To be honest, the words didn’t even register in Lily’s brain. There was nothing going on up there, not a single brain cell firing, not once she caught sight of him. Instead she stood there, mute, wondering if she could die from attraction.

Next to “Fatal Attraction” in the dictionary, was James Potter.

Now don’t get her wrong, she crushed on him everyday. He had many qualities that made him worthy of a swoon.

His hair, for one, was windswept to one side with curls sticking out in places he’d not managed to tap down. She’d once gotten to run her fingers through the strands and they’d felt like sugar candy from the fair, waves spun like thread that might melt from her touch.

His eyes, if she were standing close enough, would be a deep shade of brown with gold and green flecks. Not emerald green like hers, a softer green, like the color of the sea in photos from southern islands. She’d seen it in postcards, almost like diamonds reflecting a green light.

More impressively, he was shirtless.

Rippled arm muscles demanded her gaze as he drank from a water bottle, the water dripping out of his mouth he was so careless with it. It was May, warming up, and the early summer sun had slightly tanned his chest. Curly black hair ran across his chest, and normally she hated chest hair, but this was James Potter.

He broke all her rules but that only made sense where he was concerned. Lily often wondered if the man had ever followed a rule in his life. He was known for detentions and late night parties with friends. He had no idea how to stay out of trouble, but maybe that’s why she liked him so much.

She couldn’t stay out of trouble either.

Lily imagined if he ever showed up to class like that, she would grab him by the waistband of his quidditch joggers and pull him into her lap. Merlin, he’d tower over her, consume her, on top. His hand was big enough to hold a quaffle so he could handle her breasts with ease. One of those hands ran across his beautiful body, preparing to stretch and—

She swallowed a sigh just as someone side smacked her, making her call out and capturing the attention of everyone nearby.

“What was that for!” Lily demanded with a cry, rubbing the side of her head and glaring at Sirius Black who had his arms crossed and was looking at her like he could read her mind.

“Dunno,” Sirius tilted his head, his grey eyes slightly narrowed, “I couldn’t tell if you were having a stroke or not, your eye kept twitching.”

“So you hit me?” Lily stepped away from the tall Gryffindor, still rubbing her cheek pathetically, her eyes darting back to James who (still shirtless) was now watching them with one eyebrow quirked.

“My house elf taught me to smack my uncle Boris when he was having a stroke,” Sirius shrugged as he waltzed past, cool as could be, in James’ direction. “Hasn’t failed me yet.”

“I wasn’t having a stroke!” She called after him, “I was—“

Sirius grinned wickedly as he turned on a heel to watch her expression momentarily falter as she stopped herself from speaking. “I know what you were doing, but until you’re willing to pay up, gawking counts.”

She shot him a nasty hand gesture at which he laughed before finishing a complete turn to face James who mumbled something to Sirius quietly. Sirius kept in a bit of laughter as he passed James a shirt, not answering.

Lily cursed Sirius within an inch of his life when James took the shirt and covered back up. Sure, she might’ve made a bet with Sirius that she’d never date James Potter, or else she’d owe him twenty galleons, but that hardly meant she couldn’t stare politely when James offered himself up for it.

She just had to figure out how to get him shirtless again.

#shirtless james potter may #james potter #lily evans #jily #jily fanfiction #jily fic #jple

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luveline · 10 months

Note

Hiii if ur not sick of the fainting requests yet would love on for our bf remus <3

and thank uuu for all ur writing and time <3

thank u sm lovely ♡ fem!reader, 1.1k

cw blood + fainting

"No! That's not what happened, and you know it isn't," Remus says with a laugh big enough to shake his shoulders.

The stomach of his t-shirt is dark with water, splattered by the colander as he rinses the celery he's sliced.

"It is what happened," you say, peeling the lid back from your plastic container of hummus. "You have a selective memory, Remus."

He tips the clean celery into a bowl atop carrots shining with wet, his disagreement obvious and entertaining. James did help Remus ask you out the first time, but Remus might not remember it because it was largely done behind his head, James mouthing clearly, My friend thinks you're stunning.

"Did you cut up any green apples?" you ask.

They're James' favourite. Tonight, you and Remus are celebrating five months as a couple, but you hadn't realised movie night (pre-negotiated) was the same day until a half hour ago, hence your rushed preparations. You wouldn't be here to celebrate if it weren't for James. He deserves them.

Having to rush hasn't put a damper on how happy you both are. "No," Remus says, clasping your hand loosely on the way to the fridge. "Did you want to get changed?"

"We have," —you check your watch, eyes flaring— "about eight minutes until six. Plenty of time."

Remus laughs at your joking and takes three apples from the fruit and vegetable drawer. You slide in the fridge behind him to eye your drinks selection and start to fret. "You know, I'm gonna put my shoes on and nip to the Spar. We don't have any coke zero for Sirius–"

"He can get his own coke zero."

"Then what's the point of hosting? It's only across the road."

The sound of Remus peeling an apple follows you down the hallway, a quick shush shush shush. You put your fingers at the back of your converse as a makeshift shoe horn and force your foot into it to save time. Your fingertips hurt afterward, but you're ready in less than a minute. Your purse in your back pocket, you shout, "Did you want anything?"

"Not that I can think– Ow." A sharp hiss. "Fuck."

You walk briskly back to the kitchen. "What?"

Remus turns to you with blood dribbling down his arm and you can't remember a thing after that.

—

"You've murdered her?" Sirius asks, staring down at Remus with wide-eyed surprise. "I thought you were getting on well."

"Can you help, please?" he asks. He's using his t-shirt to stem the frankly worrying amount of blood that drips from his cut finger, the pain a stinging but luckily bearable constant. Remus is more concerned by your limp weight in his lap. He's dripped blood onto your sleeve. It's a mess.

Sirius shoves his bag on the kitchen table and sits down on the floor, easing your head from Remus lap and into his own. "Mate, what the fuck happened?"

"She fainted when she saw the blood."

"I thought that only happened on telly?"

"It's quite real," Remus says, standing up to take care of things. "Can you give her a little shake? I tried tapping her cheek but she didn't feel it."

Sirius pokes at your eyelids. Remus hates that he's had to relinquish what's clearly a boyfriend duty, but he imagines that if the blood shocked you that badly the first time, it'll get you a second. He's lucky he managed to grab you under the arms before you smashed your head open.

He washes his arms clean in the sink and wraps a tea towel around his thumb. Swift, he reaches for the first aid kit on top of the cupboard and opens it one handed over the stove top. He puts a plaster on his cut, then a second, like a hat.

Fully covered, Remus turns around and sighs. There's blood like a spattering of concentrated rain in a line to your prone body.

Sirius continues to poke at you like a science experiment, but he isn't mean. "Helloooo," he sing-songs, blowing air in your ear. You jump and your eyelashes flutter, and for once, Remus can endorse his friend's antagonising.

"Hey, there you are," Remus says, kneeling by your head. He helps you up from Sirius thigh, angling your gaze to the hallway rather than the bloody kitchen. "That's never happened before. Do you usually do that?"

"Do what?" you ask, blinking like you've weights sewn into your eyelids.

"You fainted," Sirius interjects. "Keep your eyes on Moony, doll. I'll clean up this mess. Consider it my charity for the year."

"What?" you ask, trying to look around Remus.

He takes your face into his hands, drawing your gaze. "Do you feel okay? Haven't bruised anything?"

"No?"

He nods, relieved. "Come on, lovely. Let's sit you on the sofa."

Remus helps you stand and directs you into your living room. It's beautifully clean awaiting company, giving you ample room to lay down again. You don't complain aloud but Remus can tell you're feeling weird still from the way you frown, your bottom lip pouted ever so slightly. He perches on the end of the seat.

"What the fuck, where are the dish cloths?" Sirius asks himself.

You laugh into your shoulder, the sound like a beacon. Remus knows you'll be alright, but he'd quite like to hammer it home. He puts his hand on your forehead to stroke along your hairline with his uninjured thumb.

"Are you okay?" you ask.

"I'm fine, you're the one who almost broke her neck," he says, the tip of his pinky racing down your cheek to your chin. He tilts your head up. "Since when do you faint at the sight of blood? Bit dramatic."

"I don't know. Never happened before. Since when do you cut yourself with a seventy pence peeler? That's ridiculous."

He presses his smile into your lips. "You weren't supervising me."

"It's my fault, then. Typical."

Remus kisses you, the corner of your mouth, your cheek. A loving line. You relax under his touch, laughing softly at his tickling stubble. He pulls away as the front door clatters in, but whoever it is ignores the living room completely, bursting into your kitchen.

"Sirius, what have you done, mate?" James asks, plastic bags rustling.

"I don't want to talk about it. Why's it always me on my knees? Not like that."

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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dilatorywriting · 2 years

Text

Heroes vs. Villains : Diasomnia [Part 3]

Gender Neutral Reader x Diasomnia vs. Prince Stefan Word Count: 3.0k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. Diasomnia Version

ie. Apparently even Crowned Princes aren’t safe from being chastised by their Grandmothers. And all the while, Prince Stefan treats you to a surprisingly heartfelt monologue.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

Lilia herded you back into the castle with a look on his face that was not dissimilar to an aging mother who needed either a really strong bottle of wine or an even stronger exorcist.

Not long after the start of the thundering downpour, there had been a strange toll of bells. They were heavy, old. And the sour look on Malleus’s face had only shriveled up all the tighter upon hearing it. People had hurriedly begun to disperse at the sound, muttering (excitably? Nervously? You couldn’t tell) as they went. And that was when Lilia had bodily hauled you back inside, with the aforementioned aggrieved expression.

“…Is everything alright?” you asked, because you felt like it needed asking. Even if the answer was obvious.

Lilia smiled and it looked more like a civil baring of teeth. “Of course it is. Malleus is just in for a bit of a pep talk, I think.”

“From you?” you frowned, confused.

“Oh, dear me, no,” Lilia laughed. “From his grandmother.”

“His grandmother,” you repeated, and Lilia nodded. “Like, the current Queen of Briar Valley Grandmother.” Another nod.

Uh-oh.

“He’s not… in a lot of trouble or anything, is he?” you pressed, concerned.

Lilia sighed again, long suffering. “One could only hope. But, alas, she dotes on him terribly.” A pause then, as he tapped a pointed, black, nail against his chin. “And I suppose in comparison to some of his tantrums growing up, a tsunami is rather tame. He froze the entire castle one evening when his grandmother was too busy to attend dinner. Has he told you that before?”

“He what?” you gawked.

The grin playing at Lilia’s lips had softened into something begrudgingly fond. “Mmm. He was certainly an unruly toddler.”

And with that little tidbit of marginally terrifying new knowledge to tuck away, Lilia left you to your soggy devices. You managed to wring an entire bucket’s worth of water out of your jacket before deciding it was a lost cause and dumping it in the bathtub. It landed against the tile with a sad, wet, plap. You’d already gone through all the towels in your little ensuite in an attempt to mop up the mucky trail you’d left throughout the room, but you were still wet and cold.

You headed back into your bedroom, determined to just dive under the fluffy duvet and camp out until you’d stopped shivering. But then, there by the doorway was another pile of fresh towels. You picked at the top one curiously and it was warm—perfectly toasty and nearly steaming beneath your chilled fingers. The wet outlines left by your hands melted back into pleasantly dry softness nearly the very moment you’d even touched the fabric. You whipped the towel around, absolutely gob smacked yet again by the simple wonders of magic.

With your new supernatural squeegee at your side, you were dry and cozy within minutes. You weren’t sure who exactly had deposited these wonderful gifts at your door, but you thought back to Lilia and his dripping, wet-cat, misery and decided that he would probably appreciate one. And Silver. Sebek too, probably. And even then, the pile was massive. You could likely just go about handing them out to every drenched person you could find and there would still be more left. And also maybe it was kind of an excuse so that you’d have a chance to properly explore a super cool castle without Sebek breathing irritably down your neck.

So you hauled the neatly constructed tower of fluff into your arms and began your newest adventure.

Your trio of friends turned out to be very hard to find (and Malleus wasn’t even being counted in that to begin with, because if he was being sequestered off with his grandmother, that was just a lost cause). You did, however, very quicky stumble upon another familiar, damp, face huddled away in an otherwise empty corner.

“Hello,” Prince Stefan greeted cheerily, despite the fact that he looked like he’d been drowned.

“…hello,” you returned, trying not to stare too pointedly at the ever-growing puddle beneath his boots. “I didn’t realize you were staying in the castle too.”

“I’m technically a ‘special guest,’” he said, flapping his hand about lacklusterly. “Royalty, and all. So I was offered a suite here when I arrived.”

You frowned, perplexed. “Then why are you sitting in the hallway?”

“I was dripping all over the carpet,” he explained, a bit less cheerfully now. “And the bed. And, well, everything.”

“You could just change,” you sighed and moved to hand him one of the enchanted towels from your stack.

But the moment the fabric swayed into his little, personal, bubble, it darkened under an invisible spray of water and was immediately soaked through and cold. You could feel the icy slush running down your fingers to drip along the stone floor. Your eyebrows shot up your forehead and Stefan shrugged.

“See my problem?”

“Wow,” you whistled, low. This wasn’t just your average, everyday pettiness. This was advanced pettiness. At least he wasn’t frozen to the floor or something, you mused unhelpfully.

“It’s at least a little bit my fault,” he grinned, wry, and reached out to tweak one of the curling, dark, bits of thorns that you hadn’t quite managed to detangle from your hair. A drop of water fell from his finger to plunk against the tip of your nose. “Have you ever heard the story of the Sleeping Princess?” he asked and you blinked owlishly, thrown by the sudden shift in topic.

“Not since I’ve been here,” you told him honestly. Most of the fairytales from your youth back in Generic-Non-Magical-Origin-World had a, uh, slightly different tone than the one’s you’d been treated to here. And you weren’t sure just how far the hero worship of characters you’d only ever known as villains extended beyond the hallowed halls of Night Raven. “But I know the gist of it.”

“There’s all different versions out there at this point,” Stefan hummed. “And I don’t think anyone really knows how much of it is real or how much has just changed over time. But the point being…” he huffed, brow pinching a bit. “One part that stays the same no matter who’s telling it is that, at the end, the Prince and the Dragon always fight each other without fail. Sometimes the Prince wins, and a lot of times the Dragon just swallows him whole. But either way, they always fight.”

He let out a great, big, gust of a sigh and his head fell back to rest against the wall with a soft thump.

“A lot of people say that my family is descended from that Prince—from a long line of dragon slayers, and heroes. And even more people look at the Thorn Fairy, and then at the Draconia line and all their horns, and scales, and whatever… I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s not that hard to put two-and-two together, and that two-and-two adds up to ‘oh wow, our families are just destined to hate each other, aren’t they?’” he bemoaned.

“I mean,” you frowned, “it’s not like you’re actually here to try and duke it out with Malleus or anything, right? You guys don’t have to fight each other,” you said, firm. “This is real life, not a story. You can make your own choices about how you’d like to treat each other.”

“I know that,” he grumbled, dejected. “It’s just—I know that it’s taken a really long time for our Houses to be on even semi-decent terms with one another, and…” He groaned and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. “And now I might have gone and wrecked all of that. And I’m probably going to wind up getting eaten by a dragon. And even if I live through all of that, my mother’s still going to kill me, because I wasn’t even supposed to be here to begin with! Great. What a day.”

You patted his shoulder sympathetically.

“If it helps,” you reassured, “I don’t think Tsunotarou would actually eat you.”

“Maybe,” he mused, expression scrunching in thought. “I’d probably taste terrible. It wouldn’t be worth picking me out of his teeth…” He paused, that contemplative look still tugging at his face. And then his hazel eyes shot open wide and he swiveled on you with his jaw nearly hanging off his face. “Tsunotarou?!”

“Uh,” you said, like a perfectly well-spoken and intelligent human being.

The stern line of Stefan’s mouth wobbled and then he burst out into raucous laughter. His shaking shoulders splattered droplets of rainwater all over the wall, the floor, you. After taking a long moment to nearly giggle himself into an early grave, he rose back his full height and wiped at his eyes.

“Man,” he chuckled into his palm, “I really know how to pick ‘em, huh?”

“Huh?” you echoed back, confused, and he reached out to jovially pat you on the back.

“Ignore me! But, anyways. Why don’t I escort you back to your Horned Prince now, hmm?” he offered, something bright and amused dancing in his eyes. “I bet no one’s showed you where to find the Royal Chambers, or any of the rooms they use for private audiences and stuff like that. If those bells earlier were anything to go by, that’s where he’ll be.”

Malleus was slipping out from behind a set of heavy, black, double doors just as you approached. The puckered pout on his face had relaxed into an expression that wasn’t quite solemn, but certainly quiet—thoughtful. At the very least, there wasn’t a literal storm cloud brewing over his head anymore, so you assumed he hadn’t been chewed out too terribly.

He looked up as you made your way down the hall, and the fae’s neon glare locked onto Stefan with all the subtly of a fighter jet. But he didn’t snarl or curse the two of you out of existence, so that was a good sign at least. There was only the faintest stirring of a rumble somewhere distant, and it settled back into silence quickly enough.

“Briar Prince,” Stefan called, before Malleus could speak up. The brunette ducked forward into a gentle bow, hand raised politely to his chest. “It’s good to see you’re feeling yourself again. I thought I’d do you the kindness of returning your friend to you—I know that castle halls can be tricky to navigate without a bit of assistance.”

Malleus hummed low in his throat, the skin around his eyes drawn tight with obvious suspicion. A thick, wet, trickle of rain dripped from Stefan’s fringe to plop loudly against the floor. He straightened, that familiar, bright, smile dancing across his mouth.

“And I apologize if I caused you any offense,” Stefan continued, genuine warmth suffusing the sentiment. “I can assure you, it wasn’t done with any malicious intent.”

“…Your apologies are appreciated but not entirely warranted,” Malleus responded stiffly after a moment. There was a bit of a grumpy slouch to him, like a child being forced to apologize in front of the class for pushing another kid around at recess. “I have been dutifully informed that if I expect others to meet my own expectations of a situation, then I must be more forthright about those intentions to begin with. And moreover, my reaction may have been a bit… severe.”

A driblet of wet slush fell from Stefan’s coat with an impossibly heavy splat.

“Water under the bridge,” he laughed merrily. The Prince watched, expectantly, like he was waiting for the moment that the pun would sink in. But Malleus merely blinked back at him, reptilian and slow. His smile drooped a bit before he shook himself back into joviality. “Anyways, I should go and try to dry off again. Before I ruin any more of your upholstery.”

“Do indeed,” Malleus droned. Something small and smoky sparked across his fingers almost faster than you could see, before vanishing just as quickly.

The dragon fae’s stiff-lipped glower followed Prince Stefan until he had rounded the corner and disappeared from sight—the brunette looking perhaps just a bit less drowned than he had before.

“Well,” you hummed after a minute or two of awkward silence, rocking back and forth on your heels. “If that’s all sorted, it’s still technically the Festival, isn’t it? What should we do? I’m yours for the evening.”

Malleus rested his knuckles against his chin, and looked to be deep in thought—like you’d asked him to explain the meaning of life and not just if he wanted to wander around with you looking at vendor stalls. He stood and pondered for so long that you started to grow antsy, hands twisting at your sides. You were just about to interrupt his meandering thoughts to tell him not to worry about it when his eyes slipped back open and drifted down the smooth, black, leather covering his palm. You weren’t sure what he was seeing there exactly that was so riveting, but there was a bit of a stain there—brushing up along the otherwise pristine glove and stretching just to the edges of his wrist. His brow pinched and he frowned.

“Come,” he said finally, with no other indications as to what the fuck could possibly be swirling around in his head, and offered you his arm.

You took it dutifully and followed him through the cavernous halls of his castle. It was quiet, peaceful, and you tried not to openly gape like an uncultured plebian at the endless stretches of ancient artworks, and weapons, and architecture.

“Do you recall the birthday cards I mentioned that my Grandmother has delivered to me each year?” Malleus asked as you came to a stop by a small enclave, at the end of which stood a thin, glass-framed, doorway—like something you might see in a greenhouse.

You nodded. “You said she sends you seeds with them. Roses?”

He hummed, a tiny smile quirking his lips. “Precisely.”

The fae Prince pushed open the opalescent door and your jaw nearly fell to the floor.

You’d witnessed your fair share of magical marvels at this point, but the Rose Garden beyond that threshold was a wonder that took your breath away. You could call it overgrown, but that would be an understatement—not to mention imply a level of neglect that was entirely erroneous. Each bush was flawlessly groomed and tended to, sprouting higher and wider than you were tall. The entire garden was full to bursting. An endless sea of flowers crowded the grounds, the stone walls. They crawled up dozens of intricate, black, arches and curled along the edges of neatly swept paths. It made Heartslabyul’s grandiose maze look like a mowed lawn.

“Commonfolk are always so bizarrely intrigued by the notion of creating ties to their rulers. Holidays, parties, festivals…” Malleus mused as he led you through the blooms. “My Grandmother thought it would be fitting—if there was an aspect of myself that ought to be celebrated by the masses, it may as well be my roses.” His lips curved into a pointed smirk. “I’ve been told it’s one of my more palatable interests.”

“This is amazing,” you finally managed to blubber out—terrified to touch and accidentally maim any of the crimson petals, but also desperate to reach out and try. They looked so invitingly delicate.

“I’m glad you like it,” Malleus smiled. “I do miss it terribly when we’re at school. I’ve been eager to show it to you.” He paused at the heart of the garden and glanced around with a stern sort of determination. “Each year I choose the loveliest of them to preserve—a bit of a tradition with the Festival.” His lips ticked down at the corners. “Unfortunately, the rose I selected earlier seems to… not have been long for this world.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, thinking back to the singed curtains and sea of ash climbing the foyer wall. And then—“Wait. Are you telling me that those preparations—the eight hours you were gone—you were just picking a flower?”

His mouth twisted into a pout. “There are a lot to choose from. Often the process takes days, but I was trying to hurry for your sake. I know that I don’t have as much time to spend with you as I would often like, and I would prefer to waste as little of it as I can.”

You opened your mouth to respond (with what, who even knew) and closed it again. Something warm and bubbly worked its way through your stomach and along your cheeks.

“…okay,” you squeaked after a moment, and then cleared your throat. Your ears were burning. “So you just—you need to pick another one then, right?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “And I was hoping you might assist me.”

“You said you preserve the roses you choose,” you said after a quiet moment, fighting the urge to fidget with your fingers. “Like, forever? Forever, forever?”

“As long as forever can be, I suppose,” Malleus hummed, looking entirely unbothered by the weighty concept of eternity.

“Oh,” you murmured, reaching out to trail a careful finger along one of the immaculately groomed bushes. “…I mean, that’s a bit of a tall order for a human then, isn’t it? Trying to find something good enough to keep for all time.”

Malleus turned on you then with one of those rare smiles that was small and crooked—the one that never looked quite right on his face but still managed to somehow soften the sharp, reptilian, angles of his expression into something warm. He reached out towards the rose sitting beside your curious fingers and plucked it at the stem. He leaned forward slowly, gingerly, and tucked it behind your ear with a fondness the belied dozens of things left unsaid, and dozens more that you were too flustered to even begin to consider. That little smile widened until the points of his canines were just peeking out over his lip and he hummed, content.

“I’m sure you’ll manage.”

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #My Writing #Heroes vs. Villains #twisted wonderland OCs #twst ocs #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Lilia Vanrouge #Diasomnia x Reader #Malleus x Yuu #Prince Stefan #Heroes vs Villains #Heroes vs Villains Diasomnia Part 3

2K notes · View notes

ma1dita · 7 months

Text

heavy hitter

part one can be found here!

this was a request, find it here!

words: 3.5k (yall im so sorry)

summary: james potter x beater!reader James might’ve won the game, but he needs to let people know he has the girl too.

warnings: smut. minors DNI. afab!reader, p in v, pwp, unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap) locker room sex, creampie, oral (m!receiving) reader is a brat… this is nasty don’t look at me (jesus tagging this is crazy)

a/n: …. what plot? i wanted to write angst again but got bored so… *jazz hands* erm…. this is my first smut fic, i’ll go crawl in a hole now

(posted 12/19/23 not edited will return)

—

Hitting the shower was James’ chance of washing his anger away before seeing you again tonight. He always gave quidditch his 110% percent, but something animalistic rose out of him when he saw you get manhandled by Wilkins, his team keeper. And regardless of the Gryffindor win, he was planning to chew off his ear later, whether it be with extra laps at the next practice or a good ol’ fashioned wallop to the head. But this anger wasn’t due to a foul play, not even because you got hurt (your arm was clearly fine since you used it to swing your bat at Wilkins’ head after). What got James mad was the fact you ripped your jersey.

No, actually, it was definitely because of what happened after that.

He’s not the type of boyfriend to decline you showing a little extra skin, but any fantasy that entered his mind was quickly cleared away when he saw you re-emerge from the locker rooms wearing your teammate’s jersey. McGonagall said it would be the only way to let you play the rest of the game since there’s no magic allowed on the field, but ever the rulebreaker, James thought that was absolute bullshit.

He rinses the shampoo out of his mop of curls as he thinks about that tosser whose name he can’t even remember. The guy was way too eager to give you his jersey, flirting with you at practices and just not taking a hint. Everyone knew you’d been dating him for a while now, and of course, James knows you can handle yourself, but there are just some things he can’t let slide. Namely, assholes that can’t take a hint. Also, he was a benchwarmer at most. Cocky motherfucker.

Watching you fly around with some other guy’s last name on your back did terrible things to James’ ego. The blur of suds pool at his feet, circling down the drain as he takes a deep breath. He’s got it bad for you, but luckily you like him enough to call him yours.

The Gryffindor locker room was empty by now with everyone too eager to celebrate their win. It was his last year as team captain and at Hogwarts in general, so he should be right up there drinking with all of them, but James really needed to let off some steam.

“Babe?” Your voice calls from the doorway, echoing against the empty walls. Condensation drips off the door handle as you take a peek to see the one shower going in the corner. What was taking him so long? You saw the rest of the team leave without him and they were trying to drag you to celebrate with them, but with your boyfriend still drowning himself in the stall….

“Over here love,” he calls out, hearing your sandals clomp against the wet tile as you turn the corner.

“You almost done? We have a party to get to, Jamie.”

The falling water makes it a bit hard to hear you, so he pops his head out from behind the curtain and squints at your frame. You giggle and pull his chin closer for a few quick kisses.

“Is that your jersey?”

His lips feel so soft against yours as you get distracted, slipping your tongue into his mouth instead of giving him a proper answer. Godric you’re good at that. James’ wet hand quickly pushes the curtain open grabbing at your ass and tucking you against his naked body, soaking the front of you in the process. A muffled yelp escapes you as your body adjusts to the temperature and the feeling of his semi-hard dick against your front.

“No, coach still has mine and I have to return this to Steven after.” You say calmly, smiling against his cheek as he sucks at your neck. He would’ve enjoyed getting lost in the scent of your still-damp hair, but your statement makes him stop as he bites at your pulse point. A whimper leaves your mouth.

“Why the fuck are you still wearing whatshisname’s jersey?”

James’s hands trail up your back to feel the embroidered letters against your back, and he swears his eye twitches. The incredulous look on his face makes you hold back your laughter.

“Steven. You know him! Don’t tell me this is a big deal for you, baby. You know I couldn’t magically fix mine during the game…”

Your hands trace down his slippery biceps as he unconsciously ruts against your belly, cock now at full attention from rubbing up against you. Your nipples are pebbled up under the material of the jersey, soaked from your less-than-innocent embrace, and he lifts a hand to brush over them, making you groan.

“Definitely not. I wouldn’t get jealous of a prick like him…” He scoffs, hands going back down to fist the fabric over your hips, “Not a big deal at all.”

“Mhmmm… I’ve got a way to make it up to you, even if it’s not a big deal.” You muse, fingers reaching to tease his swollen head as James exhales harshly.

“I’d hope this is a big deal for you, baby. Would want nothing more,” he breathes, pushing your back against the wall.

“You just want me to say your dick is big.”

The both of you laugh before he tugs the jersey over your head, ripping it in the process.

“James!”

He shrugs, burrowing his head into your breasts and lapping at your right bud. You moan, shoving your shorts down past your ankles before pulling his hair away from your chest.

“Mmmm…fuck, babe. I’m supposed to be congratulating you right now!”

Your hands push at his torso slightly as you fall to your knees, placing yourself onto your sandals. Gentle hands graze his thighs, as he feels your nose bump into his cock. The water hits James’ back perfectly, and the sensation of your hand pumping and sliding along his length makes him almost feral, shutting his eyes in pleasure.

“You played so well today baby… deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

Your tongue slips out from behind your lips to lick the underside of his length, holding yourself there as you look up at him to answer. Droplets cascade down his pecs as he breathes heavily at the feeling, precum leaking from his cockhead. James hisses as you tap him against your tongue.

“Fuck, baby. Need your mouth right now.” He can feel you grin against his girth before his cock disappears into your mouth, hot and warm, and his instinct is to grab your hair. Goosebumps rise on the parts of him untouched by the shower. Your throat rumbles with a groan as you let him work himself down into your throat, the resistance waning as your jaw slackens. Cheeks hollowing, your lips retract with a pop.

“Like that, Jamie?” you say, reaching around to massage his balls as your tongue continues to play with the long vein that runs along the surface of his cock. It’s hard to fit all of him in your mouth, fingers barely able to wrap around it, much less the rest of you. His hand massages the part where your mouth hinges open, squeezing your cheeks around him as he fucks into you with a bated sigh.

“You always take me so well, baby. You can handle more, that’s it,” he pants, biting his lip as you concentrate real hard on letting him use you, the corners of your eyes watering. His heart is racing now as his hips piston to the noises that come gurgling from your throat and he almost slips before his reflexes help him catch the back of your head before it bangs into the stall wall. A loud moan sputters from around his cock as your eyes roll back, and the lack of oxygen makes you press your fingernails into his quads harshly.

He pulls out from between your lips, cradling your chin as the both of you catch your breath, coughing a little.

“You okay? Mouth so good I lost my footing.” All you can do is laugh hoarsely as he grins boyishly before you realize he’s not wearing his glasses.

“Can you even see me? S’bit cold down here, Mr. MVP.”

He pulls you up, strong hands lifting you at your armpits until you stand in front of him, reaching over to grab his glasses from the shower shelf. You slide them on as water sprays onto them slightly as he shifts, blinking at you in clearer vision.

“There’s my boy,” you whisper, cupping his jaw and slotting your lips between his once more. You could kiss James forever, all muscles and hard exterior, but everything else, his lips down to his insides feel and go soft for you. He groans lowly and it rumbles between the both of you, before the slick motions against your core remind you of something else that’s really hard right now.

“All for you,” he sighs, hands gripping onto your hips with a force that you think they’ll bruise tomorrow, and you love having physical reminders of him wherever you go. Huh, maybe he is jealous. And if not, he’s possessive. It makes your cunt pulse harder just thinking about it, your arousal helping his head slide nicely against your bundle of nerves and the softness of your stomach.

“I’m yours, you know that right?” Not replying, he instead inhales the sweat from your neck, following it with a dip of his tongue up towards your ear.

“James.”

Your boyfriend scoffs lightly, a small smirk on his face as he pulls your chin up to meet him at eye level. You’re so gorgeous like this, just letting him do what he wants to you. Always so reassuring of his needs. His thumb rubs against your bottom lip before you open your mouth and swirl your tongue around clean skin.

“Just feels like I have to remind you sometimes, pretty girl. Can’t let everyone walk around thinking you’re not mine.”

“I wouldn’t mind a reminder. Some marks would be nice too,” you grin, biting at his lip while your hands stroke him slowly, your own knees buckling in excitement.

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Brat.” James hoists your legs over his hips, slamming your back into the wall as you squeak. Sandwiched between the warmth of his body and the cold of the shower wall, your eyes roll back as he eases his cock between your dripping folds, moans falling from your lips when he sinks into you, inch by inch.

His girth always has a way of stretching you open, and every time feels like the first as he taps at your thigh reminding you to take deep breaths. Fuck the party, you could stay here all night.

“Fill you up so nicely…we’re almost there, good girl.” His voice shakes, wanting to slam the rest of him straight into your cervix.

Your hands are gripping his shoulders until you finally feel him nudge the deepest parts of you, and you sigh when it all fits. Perfect.

“Always so big Jamie. Almost too much.” He kisses your cheek, hips starting to create a rhythm as he mutters into your ear.

“Not too much for my girl. Just perfect. Perfect pussy for this cock. All for you,” he grits, skin sliding and slapping as your thighs get pressed into your chest with the intense force he’s plunging into your guts.

“James, fuck….fuck you’re so deep! Feels so fucking good!” Filthy whimpers leave you and he loves the sound of your desperation when he’s inside of you like this. Too bad there’s no one else here to hear it. If Steven could only see you now.

“Such a good cunt for me to use. Only mine.”

He gasps for air as his feet slip against the tile once more, his heavy breathing fogging up his glasses, and his hold on you just as tight as your grip on his cock. Shit. His heart almost fell through his ass.

Your eyes open to see him struggling and a giggle escapes your mouth as you watch the stupid fucked out look on his face.

“How do people even fuck in the shower? This shit’s dangerous. Don't wanna maim the Gryffindor captain again.”

Your laughter sends jolts down to his throbbing shaft and he shakes his head with a smile, parting the curtain with one hand before carrying you still impaled on him towards the metal benches, placing you down softly.

“At least you finally admit it was your fault, baby. Could barely see straight for a week after.”

He wipes his glasses between his fingers before gazing at you lying across the bench, legs spread and ready for him. What a woman.

“And here I am hoping that when you’re done with me I won’t be able to walk for a week after,” you breathe, hands squeezing your tits as his pupils dilate further at the sight of you. What a fucking witch!

“Fucking hell, you know I love you, right?”

James positions himself over you, kissing your ankle as he sheathes himself back into your sex, resuming his brutal pace and hurtling you quickly towards your peak.

“Y-yes! Merlin, fuck I… looove you!” you wail, hips rolling to meet his and his balls strike your ass hard with each thrust. Your insides are being shifted around with him spearing your cervix like this and there’s nothing in this world that you could name that’s able to compare to how he makes you feel.

Your pussy contracts as he somehow nestles himself deeper, body trembling in this position as he throws your left leg over his shoulder, lips chasing your nipples trying to suck the life out of you, and perhaps that was his plan so you could forget anyone else but him.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop, James. Don’t you fucking DARE!” you beg, clawing your way down his back, making him nip at you in pleasure as you draw pinpricks of blood.

The tight pressure of release starts creeping at your core, making you squirm under him but he pins your waist down harder to the bench, the metal leaving prints against your flesh. His hands press harder on your stomach, silently encouraging you to cum and you can feel the imprint of his dick bulging from inside your stomach.

“Don’t struggle for me baby, just let it go. I know you wanna cum…. That’s it.” James praises in a shattered breath, watching you writhe underneath him as he holds you close. Your legs are shaking as your vision goes black for a moment, cunt gushing with release and squirt coats his pubic hair as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You lay there, catching your breath as the stars clear from your vision, and you look up at him stroking himself to the sight of you coming undone.

“Sheesh, look at the mess you made. You okay?”

“More than okay, Jamie. Need you to finish the job,” you tease, toes grazing the skin of his hip and he slaps at your thigh with a smile.

“Insatiable minx. Turn around then, ass up f’me.”

You do as he says, getting on all fours and showing him the perfect round of your asscheeks, covered in milky residue from your recent orgasm, but you turn to look at him when he doesn’t come near.

“Babe?”

His locker clinks open as he pulls a fresh jersey out, walking back to you and guiding it over your head and arms as you smile, pecking his cheek. Your silly boy. There was no way you actually thought you hated him this time last year with how sweet he really is. His large hand grazes the embroidered patches now resting on your back, POTTER, in huge white letters, CAPTAIN, now resting at the base of your spine.

James’ eyes drift lower and he hums at the sight of you perched on the bench, dropping his face to your throbbing holes and taking a long swipe with the flat of his tongue as he savors your taste along with the sounds of your whining. From your swollen clit to the ring of your asshole he’s languishing in a flavor that’s so uniquely you, and he pulls back, smacking his lips.

“Scrumptious. How are you hotter with clothes on?” James grins, taking a playful bite of an asscheek before he slaps it lightly and stuffs you deep, without any further hesitation. Your sarcastic reply is lost in a moan that makes your toes curl.

He works you open onto his cock again, your back arching desperately to be as close as possible and his hand presses you down, sliding up your spine until his fingers curl around strands of your hair. Tits swinging until they’re crushed against the bench, your face is smooshed as you mumble pathetically in his grasp.

“What was that baby? Can’t hear you well…” He spits at you, and if anyone could see this they’d know he was enjoying the sight of you at his mercy. He grinds his shaft against your walls, ramming against your g-spot and you drool like a mindless plaything, greedy for his attention.

“Right…right fucking there, ohmygod!” His cock pummels your cunt deliciously, hands spreading your cheeks wide and the stretch is so good, perfectly stroking the need in your belly.

“You’re so needy, pretty girl. You love it like this, huh? Good thing I fuck you so well, right?”

Merlin, this boy can pull orgasms out of you as well as he plays quidditch. He’s the only person in the world you’d gladly submit and be this pathetically cockdrunk for. Good thing he's yours.

“Yes…yes! So good Jamie. No one can fuck me like you….”

The white-hot sensation digs at your insides as his fingers fall to your clit, rubbing at you just the way you like as shockwaves shake every crevice of your being. He's breathing over your neck, hot air puffing and elevating your senses before they shut down completely.

“Yeah? Then come on my cock again right now. Show me you like it that much. Now.”

Your arms give out, falling completely forward as your body jerks in searing pleasure, pussy fluttering around his cock once more, so intensely. Your hands flail behind you until they find his, and he's pulling you up against his hard chest as he bounces you onto his length and chases his high.

“Give it to me, please, please… I can take it!” You’re screaming now, at the intersection between pain and pleasure but wanting to make sure you can milk him for his efforts. James’ thrusts stagger as he leans his head on your shoulder, biting you as he cums hard.

“I know you can, baby. All yours…” he chokes out.

Thick white ropes coat your insides, wrapping you tight around him like a present until the excess seeps out to the base of his cock. You kiss his temple as James starts to regulate his breathing.

“Fuck. Fuck….” you drag out, the two of you more winded than you were playing the damn game.

“I still have to return Steven’s jersey,” you mumble, and James can’t do anything but smirk at the thought of the clueless boy standing outside your House's locker room while he fucked you senseless a few doors over. What a shame.

—

The two of you walk hand in hand into the Gryffindor common room to a crowd of students cheering for James. The party is well underway and many hands clap his now injured back, to which his grimaces make you bite back a laugh. Speaking of bites….

Sirius walks up to you with two cups of punch, wide grey eyes zeroed in on you wearing James’s jersey and the glaring red marks of your boyfriend’s teeth on your neck.

“Merlin. I thought you two would take time to celebrate on your own but did you fucking attack her?”

You both take the cups out of his hands, searing blushes on your faces and leave Sirius to his own imagination before James whispers in your ear that he’ll be gone for a moment.

“Okay, but hurry back, baby.”

A peck on the lips sends him on his way to walk straight towards that wanker–er, Steven with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Potter! Have you seen–” the dumb boy says eagerly, before James cuts in, “Yeah, my girlfriend couldn’t meet you earlier, sorry mate.”

His hand digs into the undetectable extension charm in his knapsack, pulling out a soggy, ripped jersey.

“We were kind of busy, but you know how to fix that don’t you? You’ll need it to keep you warm on the bench for the rest of the season after all.”

It plops sadly onto the floor in front of the guy, and James looks at him, hazel eyes conveying what he knows he doesn’t have to remind him anymore.

“Thanks again! Appreciate you looking out for my girl.”

He walks away from Steven, who’s sputtering sad excuses and your eyes meet his as James finds you near the drinks table.

“What did you do?” You say with a lifted brow.

“Nothing, pretty girl. Just making known what’s mine.”

—

"you are pressing against me

like i press flowers

against the pages in my book.

you are kissing my neck

and it feels like the start of forever.

i want to touch you until my palms burn."

-amirae garcia

taglist (OPEN): @jsjcue

#james potter x reader #james potter x reader smut #guys i really lost the plot w this one #made by ma1dita ♥︎#marauders x reader #marauders era

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myfictionaldreams · 2 years

Text

Day 8. Fucking Machine - Helmut Zemo

Kinktober Day 8. Fucking Machine - Helmut Zemo

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, bdsm, dom/sub, mouth gag, crying, begging, degradation, restraints, fucking machine, squirting, nicknames, no use of y/n

my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link

“But- but I wan-want you”, the sob shook your chest, as you sucked in a deep breath, finally having the freedom to talk as your gag was removed, but your eye mask remained in place, soaked with tears.

Helmut tutted from somewhere to your side, “now, you know only nice gets get me, and what are you?” he asked in a condescending tone.

Trying to control your breathing, you took another deep breath, ashamed by your next answer, “a whore”.

“Yes, a whore who couldn’t keep her hands off of her cunt even after I instructed her to wait for me to get back. So some would say, you deserve this punishment dragă, if only you weren’t such a brat”. The disappointment in his voice was what upset you the most, kicking yourself for giving in to your desires so quickly.

The piece of material used as a gag was placed back over your mouth, cutting off any begging that you were about to continue with. You cried more like a baby, you knew you deserved this punishment but it was relentless, you should have known not to mess with your husband after the bad mood he’d been stuck in.

He had returned home, finding you in the shower, hand between your legs and you hadn’t even heard him come in to see you mumbling his name frantically trying to get off. His hand was on your arm before you could react, pulling you from the shower, water dripping everywhere and you knew better than to fight back.

You knew where he was taking you as he was tossed onto the bed, wetting the sheets. You’d expected him to position your body over his lap and spank your arse until you were sore and then fucked you nice and hard until he forgave you.

Instead, Helmut had handcuffed your wrists to the corners of the bed, eyemask and gag then attached so you couldn’t follow his movements or beg anymore that you were sorry, he’d heard it all before, you just couldn’t help being a brat sometimes.

Next were your legs, they too were strapped so that they were now spread wide for him to complete whatever plan he had decided upon. There were some shuffling noises and something heavy sounded like it was being dragged across the floor, you knew exactly what was happening, knowing how heavy the machinery was.

This led you to where you were now, you weren’t even sure how long it had been, hours? A few minutes? All you knew was that a dildo attached to the end of the fucking machine had been doing in and out of you for what felt like an eternity. Helmut continued to make sure you were lubed up well but every time you came - which seemed an excess amount - your cunt would contract so hard that the dildo would slip out and you would squirt all over it.

The machine was loud and your husband was in control of the remote, turning it faster and slower until you were quivering into an orgasm, time after time. Each thrust had you shifting up and down the bed, slowly at first, whirring with each movement and then an unnatural speed where the dildo turned into a blur and your cunt just had a constant pounding against all of those beautifully sensitive nerves until you were screaming and withering.

It went on and on, again and again, the machine fucked you all the whilst Helmut watched until finally…it all stopped. There was a ringing in your ears, dribble running down your cheek, you were well and truly fucked, you weren’t even sure if you could lift any of your limbs, and everything felt floaty.

Helmut knew you better than you knew yourself, knew the exact moment when you went from orgasmic bliss to one more thrust and you’d be passing out. He started by removing the machine, then undid your arm and leg straps, your gag and then finally your eye mask. You didn’t open your eyes at first but after a few taps on the cheek and a kiss on the end of your nose, you looked up to the man leaning over you with a proud smile.

“Talk to me princess” he encouraged, pulling you in close to his side so you could take in his warmth.

“I’m ok,” you mumbled just loud enough for him to hear, his hand softly stroking the side of your face, wiping away and the remnant of tears. “Intense but it was good”. Helmut didn’t respond, you held him tightly as sleep finally found you.

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo smut #zemo smut #baron zemo smut #marvel smut #helmut zemo x reader #marvel #zemo x reader #mine*#kinktober #kinktober 2022

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topguncortez · 9 months

Text

Truth Hurts || Whumptober Day 1 - J. Seresin

whumtpober masterlist || whumptober taglist form

synopsis: You never imagined sharing your deepest darkest secrets in front of two monsters and your best friend. Loosely based on the book “Still Beating” by Jennifer Hartmann.

@ailesswhumptober whump prompt: drugging @ailesswhumptober

word count: 4.5k

warnings: kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse, physical abuse, mentions of miscarriage, murder, character death, truth serum, drugging, forced proximity.

You liked to think that when you were to die, it would happen quickly.

A car accident, a gunshot wound, a failed ejection, ingesting too many sleeping pills.

You wanted it fast. You didn’t want to suffer. You didn’t want your death to be one that would be talked about twenty years from now and people’s eyes would automatically fill with tears when it was spoken about. You didn’t want to meet the same fate as your husband, Bradley, had met nearly a year ago.

It’s funny how things don’t seem to work in your favor.

Six days. Six long, excruciating days of pain, starvation, and abuse. That’s how long you had been locked in this dungeon of horrors, alongside your best friend, Jake. You always thought that these sorts of things only happen in the movies. You didn’t think that you would be dumb enough to fall for a woman on the side of the road who claimed her baby was choking. You didn’t think that you would be dumb enough to make Jake stop the car so you could run out and go help her. You also didn’t think Jake was dumb enough to get out of the car and try to rescue you from the man dressed head to toe in black who held your passive body.

But, here you were. Chained like animals in some psycho couple’s basement, waiting for them to come down and do whatever horrible things they had on the dockette for the day.

“They’re probably sending out a search party,” Jake said, from across the room in his own cage. Whoever had taken you had done this before. They had a whole set-up down here with chains and cages that resembled jail cells. You looked over at Jake, giving him the same glare you had been giving him every day since day one. He, somehow, was hanging onto his optimism, while yours had left almost instantly.

That’s how Jake has always been. He’s always been this bright light in your life, and you should appreciate it. You really wish that you could appreciate it, but something had died inside you a year ago when you had buried Bradley. You weren’t the same happy-go-lucky girl who grew up with an amazing family and got to do the coolest job in the world alongside her husband and her childhood best friend. Instead, you were just the shell of the person you once were.

“I-I know they are. I know they would have the best-”

“Jake,” You sighed, closing your eyes. He knew better than to continue on. He had never been on the receiving end of your anger before being trapped down here. You could be volatile, and spit venom when you needed to. You had already apologized profusely for the words that you had said to Jake after what was now probably the worst day of your life, but Jake forgave you.

The silence between you stretched on for a moment, the only sound being the steady tapping of dripping water from the leaky faucet in the corner of the basement. You had never been so envious of concrete before.

“Do you miss him?” Jake asked quietly. You turned your head over to him, raising your eyebrows in a silent way to tell him to elaborate, “Bradley.”

Your eyes went from Jake’s forrest green ones, down to your dirty feet.

Of course, you missed Bradley.

You missed everything about him.

You missed his laugh. His horrible dad jokes. His honey-brown eyes. His loud, off-key singing. His sunkissed, warm skin. His awful dancing. His soft and sweet kisses. Hell, you even missed yelling at him about leaving the toilet seat up.

But most of all, you missed his strong, comforting hugs that could make a grown man cry. Bradley Bradshaw had always felt like home to you, and you missed your home.

“Every single day,” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you spoke.

Every single day, you wished that you could turn back the clock. That you could’ve been the one who was at home that night. The detective told you that it was a “home invasion gone wrong”. A horrible case of wrong place, wrong time. But you always believed that there was more to it. That the detective with the large belly and graying hair just wanted to move on to a bigger, worse case than this. You had pushed and pushed them to look at the case just a little bit more.

“Sweetheart, no one would want to kill one of America’s finest. The case is closed. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

But he wasn’t in the wrong place at the wrong time. You found his body in the kitchen of your shared home. Those words bounced around in your head on the darkest nights, as you sat on the ground in the room that was supposed to be a nursery. Bradley had been so excited about starting a family with you. The way his eyes lit up every single time he’d see a baby on the street or would look at baby clothes at Target. All you had wanted was to be able to give him the child he longed for.

“I was going to tell him,” You said, leaning your head back against the cold cement wall. Jake looked up at you. Your face was dirty, and the grime of being without a shower for nearly a week starting to show. Your eyes, the ones Jake used to think resembled the earth, were dark. Your hair was limp and greasy around your shoulders, “I was going to tell him that I. . . That I was pregnant, that night.”

Jake sucked in a breath and looked down at the ground. He had been with you, cramped in a small bathroom at the post exchange on base as you took the pregnancy test. You had been so happy, he swore he had never seen a brighter smile on your face before. Jake held you tightly as you cried tears of joy, and immediately called your mom to tell her.

Jake had also been by your side, picking you up off the ground as blood ran down your thighs, just a mere days after Bradley’s death. He never wanted to hear the sounds of pure anguish again. The sound of your wails as you stood in the kitchen, haunted Jake at night. The sight of all the blood made him sick, and the scent of copper was forever engrained into his mind.

“He would’ve been so excited,” Jake said, looking up at you.

“I imagine it was a girl. He was always meant to be a girl dad.”

Bradley had a small pocketbook that he would keep with him, jotting down names that would come to him throughout the day that he liked. They ranged from names of famous rockstars to biblical names.

‘What do you mean Jebbidiah isn’t a good name?’

‘Jeb Bush. . .’

‘You got a point.”

You chuckled at the memory, shaking your head lightly. You and Bradley had narrowed his list of nearly a hundred names down to at least two, one for a boy and one for a girl.

“Lennon,” You smiled, “Lennon Dhani Bradshaw. Dhani, spelled like how George named his son. You know how much I love-”

“The Beatles, I know,” Jake nodded.

You gave him a quick glance and then went back to your little glimpse of happiness, “My favorite song was-”

“Here Comes the Sun and In My Life, I know,” Jake said again.

The silence stretched back over the two of you. You used to mind the silence between you and Jake. Before, it was that comforting silence that signified the strong bond between the two of you. You used to be able to sit in the same room, on opposite ends of the couch, reading books or scrolling through your phones, neither one feeling the need to fill the air with conversation.

Now, you feared the silence.

You let out a sigh, before going to speak, “Jake, I-”

The sound of the large door at the top of the stairs cut you off. The sick feeling of dread filled your body, as thudding footsteps made their way down the crikey wooden stairs. Your body started to tremble as your kidnappers came down for their daily routine.

Bonnie and Earl, are two odd, sick ducks that somehow, some way met each other and fell in love. Bonnie had gone on and on the first night, while Earl acted out his vile assaults on you, about their “love” story. Apparently, it was love at first sight, and the two got married within a month of knowing each other. They also kidnapped their first couple within that same month.

“Rise and shine!” Bonnie’s chipper voice sounded out like nails on a chalkboard. Your throat felt tight as Earl’s eyes locked directly on you. Bonnie walked over to you, grabbing your chin with her cold, dainty hand, “Are you ready, Bunny?”

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked in her cold blue irises. After the first night, you had hoped to maybe reach out to Bonnie, to break through to her and get her to let you go. What sane woman would be okay with the monstrosities her husband acted out on women? Apparently, Bonnie.

“Too bad,” Bonnie chuckled, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you up to stand. Earl replaced Bonnie by standing in front of you, his hand already down his pants, jerking himself off. At this point in time, the routine was basically burned into the back of your eyelids.

Earl takes Bonnie’s spot. Bonnie undoes Jake’s cuffs. Bonnie sits Jake down in a chair across from you and Earl. Jake hurls insults and threats at the two of them. Earl commits his heinous crimes. Earl and Bonnie leave the two of you alone in complete silence.

You were starting to wonder if it would ever end.

— — —

“You know hanging is the worst way to go?” Jake said, cutting through the silence.

It was day twenty-one, and you had officially lost hope of ever making it out alive. Bonnie and Earl had been feeding you less and less, only a sandwich every two days instead of every day. You made sure that when you brushed your teeth, you took extra gulps of water, savoring the taste of it down your throat.

“You don’t die instantly,” Jake continued, “You struggle, your lungs aching for air, you know what’s going on until the moment your neck snaps.”

You looked over at him, seeing the dull look in his eyes as he stared off into space. You knew Jake started to come to terms with your current state. It made your heart ache to hear and see the optimism slip from his body. You weren’t sure when it happened, probably after day fourteen.

Day Fourteen.

The second worst day of your life.

First, was losing Bradley.

Second, was watching as your friend stood defenseless and was forced to commit an act he’d rather take a bullet for.

You had hardly ever seen Jake cry, but as he stood in front of you, emptying himself in you, he had broken down, whispering apologies into your dirty skin. His light green eyes had grown dark and dull as he was dragged away from you, leaving you cold and broken. Jake had refused to even look at you, turning his body to face away. You had told him several times throughout the night that you weren’t upset or mad, that you understood what he had to do.

“I’m not mad at you. I understand it, I do. You did it to survive, Jake. I forgive you.”

You thought for sure that you were going to lose Jake after that. He didn’t speak for a whole day. After twenty-four hours in silence, the only sound was the occasional creak of the floorboards and the drips from the leaky pipe. You thought for sure that you would wake up and see Jake’s lifeless body on the floor. But instead, you woke up to his gentle, soft voice, singing.

‘In My Life… I Love You More…’

“I’d say being stabbed to death is worse,” You said softly, “Yes, hanging is awful, but it only lasts a matter of seconds. Being stabbed? Can last for hours. Painful, agonizing hours, where you lie alone in your own blood, and can’t do anything but wait for someone to either find you or for the reaper to take you.”

Jake felt a sudden rush of nausea run through his body at your words. His body felt hot as he looked over at you, sitting on the ground, absent-mindedly moving your foot back and forth over a crack in the cement. You always used to be the one who got sick at even the thought of blood. Now, to hear you talk so frankly about death, made goosebumps arise on Jake’s skin.

“You think he struggled?” Jake whispered.

“He fought back,” You sniffled, “The detective said he defense wounds on his arms. He always said he’d find a way to come home to me.”

Jake could remember sitting in the stale, white-walled room with you as the detective handed you the manila folder that held the official autopsy report. Why you wanted to read it and see the photos of Bradley’s mutilated body, was beyond Jake. It was bad enough that he had to see the blood trail and stained red hands. But you stared at the pictures for hours. The pictures of the man you loved and the house that was now an active crime scene.

The morning faded into day, as the shadows of the sun coming through the basement windows began to move. On day three, Jake taught you how to estimate the time by the position of the shadows on the cement wall. He guessed that the house faced towards the west, and every night as the sun began to set, your hair would have a certain warm glow to it. The two of you were playing your usual game of twenty-one questions, trying to pass the time until the inevitable happened.

You were trying not to think of whatever horror could unfold today. It seemed that on every seventh day, something worse seemed to happen. Day Seven was the first day you were assaulted. Day fourteen was the day Jake was forced to hurt you. And now, you were waiting to see what day twenty-one had in store.

Every time the sound of the basement door would open, a cold shiver would go down your spine, and you pulled your knees up to protect yourself. It was a futile chance at hopefully keeping Earl and Bonnie away from you, but it never worked. There seemed to be some charged energy between the two of them as Bonnie happily skipped down the stairs and stood outside of your cell as if you were an animal at the zoo.

“Today is gonna be great!” She cheered, a sick smile on her face, “I want the girl first, baby. I know she’s got secrets to confess.”

“Anything for you, honey bunny,” Earl cooed at his wife and placed a kiss on her lips. He then turned, digging the keys to your cell out of his pocket, “You must be waiting for today, bunny,” Earl said to you, a sickening smirk on his face. He undid your cuffs like he always did, and led you over to the open space between yours and Jake’s cages. Instead of chaining you up to the post in the middle like he usually would, he sat you down in a chair. He chained your cuffs behind the back of your chair and chained down your ankles.

Earl took a step back, admiring you like you were some type of animal he had just hunted down. You felt bile rising in your throat as he stepped towards you, his disgusting scent invading your senses. He smelled of sweat and blood, and his hands were dirty as he grabbed your chin in his hand, “You’re so beautiful, you know that, bunny?”

You clenched your jaw tightly, keeping your eyes down at the floor, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of looking at him, “I bet that’s why that boy of yours loved you so much.”

You snapped your head up, “What?”

Earl roared with laughter as he let go of your face and took a step back, “That’s what got your attention! Whew, and I was here thinking you were an idiot.” He wiped a tear from his face, stepping back to you and running a finger down your face, “That boy, what was his name? Bradley, was it? Handsome young man, so sad what you did to him.”

“You know nothing,” You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Everyone will know all, very, very soon, bunny. . . hold still.”

“Wha-Fuck!” You cursed as you felt the pinch of a needle being injected into your neck. Your heart began to race as you looked in terror at Earl and now Bonnie who stood in front of you, “What did you do? What was that!?”

Bonnie giggled and held up a vial in her hand, “Truth Serum. Made it myself!” Earl put his arm proudly around Bonnie, her face resembling a kid who just had sugar for the first time.

“Is that going to kill her?” Jake yelled at Bonnie, who simply shrugged, “Hey! Y/N, look at me!” Jake rattled the chainlink that had been keeping you apart, “What the fuck did you do?!”

It felt like you were being suffocated as you looked over at Jake. Your head began to swim, and your limbs felt like you could hardly hold yourself up anymore. Your body began to feel warm and tingly as a thin layer of sweat started to cover your body. The only thoughts in your head were that this was it. This was the moment in which you were going to die. In this dirty, dingy basement with your kidnappers watching and your best friend trying to fight his way towards you.

Then, everything seemed to change. Every muscle started to contract, making you shiver violently. Every fiber of your being felt like it had been lit on fire, and a small scream left your body at the pain. You were scared your heart was going to explode from the sheer force of it beating in your chest.

“It hurts!” You cried, pulling on your cuffs, “Help! It hurts!”

“It’s working,” Bonnie clapped her hands in excitement, “Ask the question!”

Earl chuckled, holding his wife against his front, “Not yet, sweets. We gotta start off slow. First question, bunny, have you fucked anyone else since your husband?”

The words felt like hot lava trying to escape you, but you fought against them, pushing them down in your body, “No.”

Earl’s eyes narrowed at you, “It’ll feel better if you let the serum do its thing. Keep fighting, and it’ll kill you.”

“I’d rather die,” You grit your teeth, your nails digging into your palms.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I can make that happen,” Earl said, “Now answer the question, have you fucked anyone else since your husband?”

You shook your head, scared that if you were to open your mouth, the truth would come spilling out. You never knew that the words “truth hurts” could be real until you found yourself in utter agony trying to hide the truth. Bonnie had her jaw clenched tightly as she watched you fight off her experiment. You wondered how many other people had been in your position. How many other people tried to fight and ended up dead? Or worse, ended up dead before they even got the chance to fight.

“I love him,” You choked out, “I would never hurt him.”

Jake shook his head, a scoff falling from his lips. Earl looked over his shoulder at him, a smirk forming on his lips, “You know something.” Jake instantly went quiet, not daring to look at you, but his body language was enough of a giveaway. You looked up at Jake, tears in your eyes as you begged him not to say anything. But Bonnie always prided herself on being a problem-solver, and a gasp fell from her lips. She waltzed her way over to Earl and whispered in his ear.

Earl stood up tall as he looked at you with a menacing smile on his face, “You cheated on him, didn’t you,” You groaned in agony, tears streaming down your face as you tried to fight off the effects of the serum. Earl huffed as he pulled the gun out of the waistband of his pants, and pointed it at Jake’s head, “Answer the question you fucking bitch! Or, I’ll blow his brains all over the wall!”

“Y/N. . .” Jake called out softly as you let out a scream.

“I cheated on him!” You admitted. The feeling of sweet relief filled your body, as the words came tumbling out, “It was a mistake! A total and complete, stupid mistake!” You cried, tears and snot running down your face as you looked at Jake, “I-I. . . it was stupid! And I told him, I know we promised no one would know, but I couldn’t lie to him. I felt awful. It was killing me!”

“And he forgave you?” Bonnie asked, letting out a guffaw, “What an idiot!”

“He loved me!” You snapped, pulling on your chains, “He forgave me, and it made us stronger.”

“So you don’t love, puppy over there?” Earl asked, turning to glance at Jake like he was fresh meat.

You clenched your jaw, feeling the painful truth rising up in your chest, but you fought it. Your nails dug into your palms as you shook your head, and you willed your voice to stay calm as you spoke.

“I don’t love him.”

Earl chuckled, walking up to you, and undoing your chains. You fell into a heap in his arms as he helped walk you back to your cell. You felt utter disgust as he ran his hand over your filthy hair, whispering how good you did in your ear, but your eyes never left Jake. His jaw was clenched tightly as Bonnie grabbed him and pulled him over to the same chair you were just chained up to. His green eyes bore into yours as Bonnie injected the same truth serum into his neck.

The serum felt hot as it made its way through Jake’s body, making his nerves tingle. It was a dull ache that he felt and did his best to remain upright on his own two feet. He wondered to himself if you wouldn’t have fought so hard to hide the truth it wouldn’t have caused you so much pain. He could feel his heartbeat start to rise in his chest, and sweat pool on his brow. Taking a deep breath, Jake looked over to Earl and Bonnie;

“Do your worst,” He sneered.

Bonnie shrieked in excitement, “Finally!”

Earl shushed her with a grin on his face, “Since the bitch won’t tell the truth, I guess the puppy will. . . You fucked her, didn’t you?”

“Several times,” Jake’s face was stoic as he answered truthfully. The guilt in your body seemed to weigh you down like cement stones. You hated what you did to Bradley, and the lies that you kept from him, but you couldn’t help your attraction to Jake, “And she loved every moment of it. Even begged me for more.”

“Whew! So she is a slut after all!” Earl looked over at you with that disgusting hunger in his eyes you’ve seen before, “I knew it. So tell me puppy. . . did you feel bad about it? What was it that she said? Oh, did you think it was a mistake?”

Jake clenched his jaw and looked over at you, “Never.”

“And why’s that?” Bonnie asked.

“Cause he was screwing someone else,” Jake admitted.

You gasped, holding your hand to your mouth, “That’s not true.” Bradley would never hurt you the way that you hurt him. He loved you too much to do that and it killed you to know how much you had hurt him.

“It is! I saw him, Y/N!” Jake yelled, “I saw him with that girl at the bar. Do you remember the one he told you was some annoying junior pilot with a crush? He was screwing her,” Jake spat. You shook your head, eyes wide, refusing to believe the words that Jake had just spoken.

“That’s a lie. He would nev-”

“It’s the truth, Y/N. They were doing it everywhere. At work, at the Hard Deck. . . at the house. Remember when he went to Virginia for a week? He went home with her to meet her family.”

“No!” You screamed, “He wouldn’t do that to me!”

“So what did you do?” Bonnie asked. Jake’s eyes bore into yours as he took deep breaths. Bonnie looked between the two of you, before yelling, “Say it!”

“I killed him,” Jake whispered.

“What? What was that?” She instigated, leaning into Jake and holding her hand to her ear.

“I killed him.”

“Louder! I can’t hear-”

“I killed him!” Jake yelled, his eyes never leaving yours, “I. . . I just wanted to scare him, to let him know that I knew what he was doing, and to get him to either come clean to you or stop. I-I don’t know what happened. But he. . . he started fighting back and I just. . . I lost control.”

“It felt great didn’t it?” Bonnie asked, walking over to Jake, putting her hands on his shoulders, and running them down his chest, “You felt that release. That sweet, sweet release,” You wanted to kill her as she placed kisses up and down Jake’s neck. He couldn’t help but flutter his eyes closed at the gentle feel on his skin, “You let out all that pent-up need that someone was depriving you of. It felt like the best orgasm ever, didn’t it?”

Jake looked away from you, guilt swimming in his eyes. You let out an anguishing cry as you collapsed to the ground, sobs racking your body as you dry-heaved. All Jake could do was sit in the chair and watch you. Earl walked over to you and picked up your body as if you weighed nothing. You thrashed in his arms as he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at Jake.

“You’d do it again, wouldn’t you?” Earl asked. Jake was silent as he looked down at the ground. “Answer me!” Jake looked at him, still keeping his mouth quiet. But you knew. By the look on his face, you knew what he was fighting.

“Answer him, Jake,” You said quietly, “You’d kill Bradley again, wouldn’t you?”

Jake couldn’t help the smirk that grew on his face as he looked at you, “I would kill anyone who hurt you, sweetheart.”

taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @seitmai @cassiemitchell @topgun-imagines @xoxabs88xox @sarahsmi13s @els-marvelvsp @ohtobeleah

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 7 months

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hello! I’m a big fan of your jackass fanfics and I have a request. What if Knoxville and reader just had a baby (reader is in the jackass crew) and they bring the baby on set and surprise the boys??? Sorry if this is too long 😭😭 anyways love ya bye 😘🫶🏽

Baby on Board

Y/N and Johnny bring their son on set one day, not realizing what chaos may erupt!

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

820 Words

Warnings: None! :)

An: Thank you for the request!! Your request was not too long at all and I really enjoy long requests in general! ;) Anyways, as a warning I have been around very few babies in my life besides in passing, much less responsible for one, so I hope this is all accurate to real baby behavior! As a side note I’d like to thank you all for getting me to 100 followers! This probably deserves it’s own post but I just want to say that I’m so happy so many people enjoy what I write! I would love to do some sort of special or unique fic to come rate, so please send me any and all requests! :)

“So…that’s your baby?” Steve peered curiously at the little human in Johnny’s arms. He chuckled a little, “Well, it’s more Y/ baby. She did all the work- I just made a deposit at the bank.” It was a slow day on set, so you and your husband decided to bring in your new baby to meet the guys. You didn’t really know what to expect, but you were pleasantly surprised as your son reached out a little hand to Steve and his eyes went wide. It was no mystery that he hated babies in general, on account of their propensity for being doorstops that shit and cried, but for some reason this was different. Johnny noticed his reaction and cracked a smile, “If you want, you could hold’em.”

He nodded but didn’t really seem to know what to do after Johnny handed him over, just sort of holding your baby like this precious, fragile thing in his arms. It was sweet, in a way. While he was busy marveling, a production assistant came up and tapped Johnny on the shoulder, whispering something in his ear before trying to hurriedly usher him and you away to something or other that needed to be attended to on set. Johnny quickly turned to Steve as he walked away, “Hey, we’ll be back in five! Think y’could watch him?” There really wasn’t any way he could say no. “Uh, sure, I guess…?” Of course, that was the exact moment your son pooed all over him.

Maybe he wasn’t wrong about babies being doorstops that shat. Though he still looked calm, Steve’s eyes had a trace of panic behind them as he nervously looked around for someone on set to hand your son off to while he went to the bathroom to clean the stuff dripping off of his arm. The first person he found was maybe the only worse person to give a baby to- Ryan. He handed off that drooling little bundle of joy to him in the blink of an eye as he rushed away, “Hey, dude- just hold onto this for a sec.”

He knew even less what to do with the thing, holding the baby at an arm’s length while he kicked his little legs and giggled. Ryan eyed it with suspicion, unsure of what to do next. Steve was long gone, and he didn’t know when he’d be back, so in a moment of quick thinking, he did the only rational thing- handing it off to someone else. Effectively, this baby was being passed around like a fat little babbling football.

Johnny squinted, eyeing him up and down with suspicion at the absence of your son, “Steve, where’s the kid?” He dried the water that dripped off of his recently washed hands on his camo shorts. He sighed and said like there was nothing wrong with it, “I gave him to Ry ‘cause he shat all over me.” Of all people to trust with your baby, you just had to pick Steve-O. You rubbed the space between your eyebrows in frustration, “It’s a baby. It’s gonna shit!”

And so the wild goose chase began. The two of you eventually found the man you were looking for leaning against the side of one of the makeup trailers, beer in hand. “Ryan! Where the hell’s my kid?” Johnny was getting exasperated at this point, as were you. Ryan shrugged nonchalantly, “Gave it to some production assistant lady- Y’know, the one with the hair.” You fell slack jawed and started to wonder if any of these men had been around a child before, much less responsible for one. He sipped his beer “What? It had ‘poopies’. I don’t do ‘poopies’.” Blinking in disbelief, you furrowed your brow, “Okay- okay. Do you have any idea where the woman is?” “Yeah! She’s here all the time- see her every day.” Really narrows it down. Frustrated, you turned to Johnny, “I can’t believe we trusted him with your idiot friends!- no offense, Ryan.” Ever unconcerned, he shrugged, “Hey, none taken.”

After a few panic-inducing minutes of rushing about on set and stumbling into dressing rooms people may or may not have been in (sorry, Bam), you eventually tracked down the aforementioned production assistant. It was Johnny actually who found her, tucked away in some quiet room on set with your son (who had a miraculously clean diaper)- and someone else. In all your time as a mother, you never saw a baby more captivated with anyone than he was with Chris, pawing at his long hair with tiny hands and giggling while he made silly noises to entertain him. “Pbbtt! Goo goo goo! A- pbbtt!”

Johnny cracked a smile and waved you over to look at the sight. God, it was heartwarming. Relieved, you softly awed and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close, “Well, I do think we’ve found our new babysitter.”

#jackass #bam margera #johnny knoxville #steve o #chris pontius #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #fluff #jackass x reader #johnny knoxville x reader

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bianotbia · 15 days

Text

— 𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 [𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧]

˗ˏˋ as long as we live we still have plenty more summers ahead! there's no such thing as a last summer! ˎˊ˗

⤷ a/n: a lil something I had sitting on my drafts, still couldn't get back to writing :( hope I can do it soon

⤷ contains: jjk boys being very in love with you, just pure fluff [wc: 1.4k]

satoru gojo — [ do or not | pentagon ]

Outside the infirmary the empty corridors were filled with the sound of Gojo's foot anxioulsy tapping on the floor, the heat seems to make the clock goes slower yet after a few minutes of waiting he hears a door opening. "Are you feeling better? What happened?" the young man shoots up from his seat "Jeez Gojo, calm down" his crush almost loses their balance and starts giggling "I just got a little bit light headed because of the heat". Dramatic as always the boy quckly rambles "You could have gotten hurt, lost or something even worse could have happened" as Gojo keeps going on about his concerns his crush stops in front of him and grabs his face "I know I'm not the strongest but I think I can handle this. Besides, I wasn't even on a mission. I'm fine!". He hums and turns his face away sulking while his crush lets out a laugh "Oh my god, are you really gonna sulk now? Ya know, I'm really waiting for the day someone can put up with your temper better than me and Geto" walking side by side down the corridor for now Gojo can only think to himself "It will always be you… my one and only true love".

suguru geto — [ our summer | txt ]

Finally finding a place away from the blazing sun, Geto closes his eyes hoping to make the pain of his throbbing headache go away, lately the only thoughts on his mind were about their next missions and the awful heat. Nearly drifting into sleep while sitting on an empty corridor his body jerks as something cold touches his face, with widened eyes he looks up at his crush smiling and holding a colorful can in front of him. "It's hot, I thought you would like some soda" Geto feels his face heating up as he reaches out for the can and his fingertips lightly brush on theirs "Are you alright? You seem a bit flushed" he hums a quiet response and turns his face away embarassed. "You seem tired Suguru. Is the heat bothering at night? I'm having problems sleeping too. Why don't we take a nap together?" as his crush lays their head on his shoulder the pounding heart inside his chest gets even louder yet with all anxious thoughts going away he can feel his eyes slowly closing "Perhaps with you I can truly be happy from the bottom of my heart".

megumi fushiguro — [ universe_ | onewe ]

Lately Megumi has been tiressly training through day and night, under the bright sun and even the cold rain. The young man throws himself on the wooden floor panting as sweat drips from his warm face "Wah Megumi that's awesome! Someday I wish I could be as strong as you". The sudden familiar voice coming from behind him makes his heart pound inside his chest without him even turning to see who's there. Slowly lifting his sore body from the floor he then turns towards his crush "I think you're great just the way you are" he quietly mutters while reaching for the bottle of cold water they handed him. "You should drink more water" their bright smile makes his heartbeat shoot up once again and he hopes the cold liquid can make the flush on his cheeks go away "I guess if we have some free time next week I can think about teaching you a few things" his crush quickly takes his hand into theirs and interlocks their pinkies "Pinky promise?" he nods his head thinking to himself "For you I'll become stronger, I'll do anything it takes to protect you".

yuji itadori — [ side by side | the8 ]

On such a beautiful sunny day it was near torture staying shut inside an unbearably hot classroom organizing old books because Gojo thought it was great idea. Yuji usually try to see the bright side of things but this was absolute boredom until a certain someone appears on the doorframe "hey there, need a hand? Gojo sensei sent me to help you!" his crush says with a bright smile. His breath hitches and he feels his face getting warm, now he understands why Gojo was giggling so much when he geve Yuji this taks. While chatting and laughing together, a whole hour went by and the room was already way better than when it started "It's so pretty outside, I bet you'd rather be with your friends than being here with me" his crush says with a chuckle and he quickly blurts out "I would never find it boring being with you". Yuji doesn't mind the flush on his face and the pounding heart inside his chest, wishfully he longs for the day he can finally confess his love to them but for now he can only wonder "I know I'm never gonna regret the way I love you".

yuta okkotsu — [ my first and last | nct dream ]

Mindlessly walking around Tokyo was quite a rare occurrence lately and since everyone already had something planned to do in the bustling city, Yuta wanders by himself through the mall searching for a special gift. Stopping by at one of the shops he finds a shiny silver ring that he knows for sure would look perfect on a certain someone that makes his heart beats faster. "That's so pretty! Who are you thinking about giving that to, Yuta?" completly lost on his daydreams he lets out a small shriek as his crush appears beside him. "W-what? No I was just… admiring it?" his face reddens with the proximity of their faces while his crush lets out a laugh "I'm sure anyone who receives it from you is a very lucky person. Anyway, you up for some ice cream?" a shy smile appears on his lips "Always". As they laugh about some dumb joke while walking together side by side on the warm streets of the city, he wishfully thinks to himself "How I want to have a connection with you... be needed by you… maybe someday we can finally be together".

toge inumaki — [ nectar | the boyz ]

While everyone is out enjoying their free day, the singing cicadas are Toge's only company in this silent morning. While sitting alone under the cool shade of a tree reading a manga, sudden footsteps grabs his attention, as he lifts his head a flush appears on his cheeks upon seeing his crush coming by. "Hi! Do you mind if I sit here?" he promptly shakes his head and motions for them to sit too "It's so rare finding quiet spots around here" their giggle warms up Toge's heart, a warmth that spreads all over his body as they sit together under the tree. Time goes by and only after their stomachs start to loudly grumble they finally realize the blazing noon sun above them. "Wah I should have brought something for us to eat" Toge quickly pulls up his a bag behind leaving their crush with a puzzled expression, taking out tons of small boxes he opens a towel and organizes their own little picnic. With a bright smile on their face the young man shyly hands them an onigiri as he thinks to himself "I hope to one day be able to say 'I love you' with every letter of it".

kokichi muta — [ hitori janai | seventeen ]

The high trees, the training camp, the warm rooms, it all seemed so familiar yet still so foreign, on this quiet afternoon Kokichi wanders through the empty classrooms searching for a special someone he waited so long to meet. After weeks of gathering courage he finally decided to show them who he truly is and as he mindlessly walks down a corridor a familiar silhouette suddenly appears before him. "Oh! Are you a new student?" a warm blush spreads all over his cheek now that he's facing the very person that makes his heart skips a beat. "Am I really that different or do you noy recognize me without all that brass?" with a confused expression his crush gives a few steps ahead and as their eyes widden at last they run towards him throwing their arms around his neck "Kokichi! You came to see us!". Sinking deeper and deeper into their warm embrace he hides the bright smile that spread over his lip knowing this was the first of many others to come "I came here to see you… it seens at last I found my happiness".

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #inumaki toge #yuta okkotsu #kokichi muta #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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yelenabemylova · 1 year

Text

bathtime- maria hill x reader

summary: a really fluffy post mission bath with your girlfriend

“Honey, I’m home!” Maria chuckled to herself as she heard your groan of disapproval at her use of the cliche. “As glad as I am to see you, I think they only say that in movies,” you leaned up on your tiptoes to kiss her, her arms snaking around your waist to pull you closer. “I missed you, dear,” she breathed in your comforting scent. “I missed you too, Ria,” you sighed.

Missions were tough for you both, the time apart always caused you to suffer from extreme separation anxiety and Maria often felt helpless. You always assured her that it wasn’t her fault but she always went over and above to leave little notes around the house for you and she prerecorded many videos and voice notes for you so you wouldn’t feel as alone.

Thankfully, she was back exactly when she said she would be, so dinner had been made and was plated up, ready for her. After she ate, she insisted on doing the dishes, giving you time to surprise her with a nice, soothing bath.

Looking through your shared closet, you found her fluffy pyjamas and laid them out neatly on the bed, bringing a towel into the bathroom and placing it on the heated rack. You turned on the hot tap, allowing the water to heat up a bit before putting the plug in the drain and letting the tub fill up. Rummaging through the bathroom cupboards, you found a few bath bombs that you laid on the shelf next to the tub and then you poured some bubble bath into the water as it continued to flow, allowing it to form a layer of foam.

Unbeknownst to you, Maria was leaning against the doorframe, watching you with adoration as you shuffled around the room. Carefully, you lit a few candles and placed them in various spots, fetching rubber ducks dressed as different Avengers as well.

You ran out the door in search of Maria, but instead you crashed right into your girlfriend, a small “oof,” eliciting from deep inside her. “Ouch,” you pouted up at her. “I’m sorry, honey,” she gently kissed your forehead. “Come with me,” you all but dragged her into the bathroom to show her your surprise.

“Oh, darling,” she hugged you tightly, “I love you so much.” She quickly undressed and hopped into the bath, grinning up at you. “Do you need anything else?” you asked her, taking her hand and she reached it out to you.

“Just you,” she smirked, pulling you into the water with her. “Maria Christina Hill,” you scolded her, your clothes now soaking wet. “Oh no, darling. What a shame, I guess you’ll have to join me now,” she lifted you out, helping to rid you of your dripping garments before getting back in the tub, letting you settle in front of her, her arms tightening around you.

“I love you, silly,” she whispered into your hair. You threw the little SHIELD agent rubber duck at her, “ I love you too, idiot.” She picked up a bath bomb, placed it in the water and watched as it fizzed in front of you. Glancing at your face, her heart burst from seeing how cute she found your excitement. She nuzzled her face into you, her hand rubbing up and down your arm subconsciously, lulling you into a light slumber.

After about half an hour, Maria picked you up and carried you over to the towel rack, wrapping it around you gently to which you protested. “Ria, no. I got this towel for you,” you shrugged it off your shoulders. She caught it with ease, placing it back over you, “shh, darling. Go back to sleep.”

Carefully, she helped you get into your matching set of pyjamas. They were your favourite due to them being extremely soft and fluffy. Picking you up like you were a koala, she brought you into the kitchen, pouring a glass of milk for herself. Sleepily, you reached out for it so she put some into a bottle for you so you could drink it in bed.

She lay you down on the mattress gently, handing you your bottle of milk before crawling in next to you, pulling the blankets over you both and holding you close. You rested your head on her chest, “can hear your heart beating, Ria,” you slurred drowsily. “Oh yeah? Did you know it beats just for you, princess?” she played with your hair, awaiting your response.

It took her a few seconds to realise you had fallen asleep on her, making her smile to herself. Strategically, she removed your milk from your hands and quickly replaced it with your stuffed animals. Thankfully, you didn’t seem to wake up, only stirred slightly, snuggling into Maria further, gripping a fistful of her shirt in your sleep. Her heart began to race, she only prayed you couldn’t hear it now.

Gently, she placed a kiss to the top of your head, allowing herself to relax completely, dozing off with all she could ever need in the world safe in her arms.

#maria hill #maria hill x reader #secret invasion #marvel #the avengers #maria hill fluff #avengers #shield #agents of shield #cobie smulders x reader #cobie smulders #cobie smulders fluff

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forsaire · 1 month

Text

It could have been me

@solivagantingrebel

you said you wanted it with ghoap, so i wrote a very little something

The faucet beside them was leaky, just the occasional drip of water tapping softly against the porcelain sink. The two of them were shoved tightly into the bathroom that left even a single person struggling to turn around. It was quiet, a stark contrast from the roaring crowds they’d just been surrounded by.

With his shoulders curling in from exhaustion, a shirtless Ghost sat on the toilet seat, his eyes focused on the floorboards yet still a million miles away. He was no doubt still back in that cage.

The two of them had been tasked with infiltrating an underground fight club, keeping an eye out for the orchestrator which was their target. The atmosphere was rugged, performative, rowdy, and without mercy. Men celebrated the beating of one another in a desperate attempt to put those down deemed unworthy and weak. They laughed at the pain. They bet on the suffering. They revelled in the massacre.

Ghost and Soap were trying to blend in, something that new faces had a significant disadvantage with doing anyway. They watched, round after round. Things were going well, until they weren’t.

Eventually the whispers started, curious and scrutinizing eyes from the armed men falling upon the two of them. As soon as Soap caught wind of the changing atmosphere, he tried to lead them to the exit, but he wasn’t fast enough.

As the man stood before them, they had to prove they were meant to be there, prove they belonged there. They were offered only one solution – get in the ring or leave. Although the latter would most likely be through a bullet in the back of the head.

Ghost immediately offered, Soap keeping his hesitation and worry hidden behind the deceitful mask he wore developed from years of experience. Ghost was big, but his opponent was bigger. Had remained undefeated for three rounds now.

Soap was well aware that Ghost could take a hit, but he found himself wincing each time it happened, nonetheless.

As Ghost stood over his opponent’s unconscious body, panting and with blood dripping down over his eyes, they were officially welcomed. How could they not be when Ghost had just put on quite the show.

With a limp he was trying to hide, Ghost and Soap left the area, retreating to a safehouse a few blocks away.

This is where they found themselves as Soap riffled through the first aid kit opened up on the counter. Once he’d found all the materials he needed, he stepped in front of Ghost, easily situating himself in between Ghost’s open legs.

Ghost flicked his eyes up, tired beyond belief and betraying the amount of pain he was in.

“Steamin’ Jesus, Simon…” Soap murmured, drained, worried, and relieved all at the same time. He dabbed a damp cloth against the cut above Ghost’s eyebrow, gently wiping the dried blood away. “Now why did you have to go and do that, huh?”

Ghost remained still, ever so slightly leaning into Soap’s gentle touch.

“It was you or me,” he replied evenly, camly.

“It could have been me…”

“Didn’t want it to be…”

With a small sigh, Soap put down the cloth and picked up an alcohol swab, expertly tearing off the top of the paper packaging.

“This might sting.”

With that, Soap took the wipe and dabbed it against the jagged cut. As expected, Ghost gritted his teeth and sucked in a breath, his hand automatically coming up to grab at the back of Soap’s thigh, his fingers digging in tightly. After a second, the tension in Ghost’s body dissipated as the pain subsided, but still his hand remained.

Soap didn’t mind.

“You’ve just given Price more paperwork…” Soap joked quietly.

Ghost hummed. “Poor him.”

Soap reached over and picked up a handful of butterfly bandages. The two of them were peacefully quiet as Soap let his skilled hands smooth down the bandages across the cut. Ghost watched him carefully, ignoring what he was doing with his hands and instead locking onto his face.

It would have been slightly intimidating or nerve-wracking if it hadn’t been Simon.

Once Soap was finished, his hands lingering perhaps a little longer than necessary, he let them reluctantly fall. His eyes floated down to the blooming black and red bruises scattered across Ghost’s torso.

“There’s not much I can do about those right now,” he said quietly. He raised his hand again as he spoke, caressing one of the bruises on Ghost’s chest with a feather-light touch. His muscles were hard but his skin was soft.

With a sigh, Ghost slumped forward, pressing his forehead into Soap’s stomach. Like he’d always done it, like it was completely natural, Soap immediately started to sift his fingers through Ghost’s hair. He scratched at his scalp, taking in the way that Ghost appeared to melt into the touch.

He would take Ghost’s pain away in a heartbeat, but for now, all he could do was stand here, letting his wandering hands comfort the man in his arms. The man who always gave too much and took too little.

Soap was in no rush to leave because for a moment, just the smallest of moments, it was only the two of them, in a cramped bathroom in the middle of nowhere. And he wouldn’t change it for the world.

based on this post

#my writing #ghoap writing #oneshot #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod #call of duty #codfic

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velvethana · 1 month

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PHONING... 𓂃 ࣪˖ Take A Bite.

After his mysterious disappearance your friend returns with an apparent appetite for human blood.

જ⁀➴♡ wc 2k ✧ angst , vampire!ricky

warning. horror , unnamed character deaths mentioned , loosely inspired by jennifer's body

The last night you had seen him as wholly himself— when your world crashed into his, you belonged to no one.

The swelling in your heart the moment he walked you to your doorstep was swept under the rug, accepting his coat back from you with a smile you’d grown to know over the years.

By the time you collapsed into your bed, the sun was already on its’ way as you remained blissfully unaware of what had happened in the night.

Body throbbing to the faint music ringing in your ears and feet aching from jumping the whole night. The muscles in your cheeks beginning to tire from smiling so much at the tug of your heartstrings.

That was the moment before everything.

When you thought there was love— when you had yet to feel the full force of your reality.

Returning to school the next day, the dense forests surrounding only made you feel isolated as you sat in class, eyes fixated on where he sat— where he should be.

During chemistry you’d considered asking his friends but Matthew would shrug, offering the explanation that he’d simply fallen ill after an overstimulating night.

The school felt off, as if the walls had shifted somehow. Walking down the halls almost felt eerie in a way, the lingering question of where he was remaining.

To others around you, it might have seemed normal— but you knew that it wasn’t.

Ricky would never go out of his way to not respond to you, even if he was busy he’d make sure to share everything with you. Not a single day went by where you weren’t met with tons of notifications from him— photos of what he was eating or small updates through the day.

The silence was off putting to say the least.

Two days had passed when you heard a loud noise in the downstairs of your home.

Tapping away at your laptop, your eyes felt heavy as you hit the backspace over and over. Thoughts of Ricky continued to resurface as you brushed them aside, attempting to focus on your project in favor of your partner Wonyoung.

There was the faint noise— a thud. Everything seemed to still as you wondered if your ears were playing a trick on you, hand hovering over the laptop.

Another unmistakably eerie noise came from downstairs as your blood ran cold. Despite what your mind was telling you, you were dragged to your feet to go investigate.

Against your better judgement telling you to call someone, you found yourself slowly moving downstairs, the usual creaks of the old house echoing excruciatingly loud.

The sound was unsettling, almost haunting: the slow drip of water. One. Two.

It was barely audible yet chilling to the bone.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as the noise came again, a bit louder this time, as if beckoning you. Apprehension swirling within you, you felt pulled into the unknown depths of your own house.

If all your senses were heightened, attuned to every sound around you it didn’t help as all you could hear was your heart beating in your ears.

The old wooden steps creak beneath your weight and the sound paused for a moment, only to resume once you paused.

The darkness of the hallway ahead had fear creeping up your spine.

Finally moving to the kitchen, you felt like a lamb led to its own slaughter. With bated breath, you inch forward, footsteps barely audible against the carpet.

And then, there it is again—the eerie noise, louder now.

It's coming from just around the corner, just out of sight.

You take a deep breath and round the corner, heart pounding in your ears. As you inch closer to the source of the noise, the tension mounts, your senses on high alert.

The kitchen faucet leaking periodically, the breath trapped inside your throat finally escaped as you turned the handle, silencing it.

In the back of your mind, you knew that couldn’t have been all. Logically there was a reason behind the strange thuds you’d heard but regardless, your mind attempted to calm you by saying it’s all in your mind.

Turning, your heart stops for a moment as you’re met with somebody. Looking up at him, you let out a sound of relief.

“Jesus, Ricky!” He doesn’t answer.

The kitchen was only lit with the moonlight creeping in through the window, it took you a moment for your eyes to adjust before you recognized the outfit he was wearing. The same outfit you had seen him last.

The scent of metal hit you as you scanned over him, assisting in you finally noticing the amount of blood coating him.

“Ricky…” your voice was shaky, apprehensive and filled with worry. “Are you alright?”

The smell made your head spin, nausea settling deep inside you and he just smiled, teeth coated red.

Without answering, he ended up shuffling through your fridge before you could collect yourself.

Curiously, your eyes followed him as your feet kept you stuck almost like a prisoner in your own body.

He moved faster than you could even react, pushing food aside and out onto the kitchens marble floor before settling on a chicken.

Realizing what he was doing as he shoveled pieces into his mouth, the pit in your stomach simply tightened.

Clearly something had happened— he wasn’t acting rationally or anything like you’d seen before. Some sort of psychotic break you’d assumed had him behaving almost animalistic.

Anxiously, you kneeled down and extended a hand to his back.

“You’re not really supposed to…” your voice trailed off as you cringed at the scene. “Eat it like that.” You finished.

Teeth seemingly rotted as he devoured the raw meat, the realization washed over you that this wasn’t the Ricky you knew— that something had taken over.

For a split second you felt that there was a pleading in his eyes when he looked up at you, a small whine at the back of his throat itching to be let out like a caged animal but all you were met with was the animalistic growl he let out when he harshly pulled away from you.

Your attempt to call for help was put to a stop when you were pinned to the wall in a flash, hands pressed to your side in a vice grip as you felt the bruising already begin to form.

Leaning in, his voice was laced with a tone you’d never heard before. It wasn’t playful but sinister.

“Are you scared?”

All you could do was nod. He laughed.

That night was spent cleaning up all the waste off of the floor. Food carelessly tossed around, covering the floor along with the black substance he had thrown up made your own stomach churn as you’d lost your own appetite.

You weren’t sure how to proceed or even what had happened, the entire thing felt like a scene out of a horror movie.

Something had happened to him— whatever it was must had happened the night the two of you went out.

His stained clothes, hair tousled and knotted with blood drying on its’ tips. Maybe if you had invited him to stay over, you could have prevented whatever it was.

You began to blame yourself all throughout the night: you couldn’t deny it was all your fault.

In the end you had no one else to blame for your life falling to pieces: that’s what you assumed.

There was no way you could have known what he went through, heart racing through his chest as foliage flew back against his face. Feet prints in the mud exposing exactly where he’d gone.

Something was taking over or already had.

That night you’d barely gotten any sleep, project long forgotten as you perused the internet for an explanation or something to try and understand what had happened.

Vampirism— a ridiculous theory.

Maybe it was to absolve some of the guilt you felt— you’d try to reason with yourself and yet you’d always reach the same conclusion. That you could have done something.

Is pain any less valid when it’s self-inflicted?

Doesn't it hurt just as much?

Maybe you were selfish for being upset- maybe you were going crazy.

You were sure you had gone crazy because the next day, he walked down the halls looking just how you’d remembered.

The distraction from the previous night kept you on edge as you shuffled through your locker, trying to put away your books and ignore the heavy feeling of your eyelids.

The sound of the locker next to you swinging open alerted you and you jumped.

“Boo!”

“Jesus— fuck!” Hand on your chest, you tried your best to steady your breathing as you shot a glare at the person in front of you. “Seriously? Again?!”

Ricky was standing there, a smug look on his face. Unlike the previous night he looked put together. Skin perfectly smooth and hair cleanly, he looked a lot like how you were used to.

All you could muster up was a short response, somewhat in shock at his presence. “You’re.. here.”

Ricky gave you a confused look, leaning back against the locker. “Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t I come?”

There was a beat of silence as you gave him an incredulous look. “Why— Why wouldn’t you come? Are you serious? Do you..” looking around, you leaned closer to him.

A look of mutual confusion crossed both of your faces. “Do you remember last night?”

Ricky was silent for a moment before rolling his eyes and looking in the opposite direction of you down the hall.

“What about last night?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What about—?! Bro— you puked venom all over my kitchen!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, did you hit your head or something?” His voice was lacking concern and your face fell for a moment.

“You wish I was with you last night.”

The way he carried himself felt only slightly off, like something was bubbling below the surface.

Shifting under his gaze, you began to consider that your mind was just playing tricks on you. Maybe you were hypnotized by some fabricated delusions and it was all a meaningless nightmare.

“I- um… maybe I’m just tired? Nevermind.”

Seemingly satisfied with that response, he smirked again. “You were really that bored without me?”

Embarrassed, you rolled your eyes as you shut your locker. “Seriously, Y/N. You’re helpless, you need to start doing stuff without me.”

Before you could open your mouth to argue against it, he threw his arm around your shoulder to drag you to class.

Leaning into your ear, you could hear the arrogance in his voice. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

It would have been sweet like all the times he had shown you affection before, if only you didn’t feel his nails sinking into your shoulder.

Life in this town was dull and monotonous; but Ricky made things interesting.

The same could be said about your other friends but there was just something about him that stood out to everyone. Maybe it was his looks that drew you in but his personality made everyone stay.

To say that you were opposites was an understatement. You didn’t possess half of the confidence that Ricky did so when the two of you became friends in elementary school, mostly everyone was surprised.

There were moments his humanity would pop out again. You couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something isn’t right as he was sprawled out comfortably on your bed one moment then sitting up and glaring daggers at you the next.

One moment his voice would break the silence, the familiar gentleness that he used to speak with. “I wish we could've stayed kids, you used to love the softer me.”

It felt as if you were stabbed in the heart, an ache of nostalgia lighting inside you. You wondered if he felt unloved by you now, if he felt you pulling away from him or whatever he had become.

A few more days had passed and he had been acting strange again. Everything had been off lately— students were mysteriously disappearing and everyone was on edge.

Some were in mourning.

The first student to reappear was someone you didn’t know personally but knew of. Some guy from the football team seemingly torn and shredded to pieces like he was attacked by an animal.

It put you a bit on edge but you pushed any conspiracies out of your head, focusing your energy on anything that could keep theories from swirling around in your mind.

You couldn’t blame Ricky’s change in behavior lately, there must have been something to explain it. There was the underlying feeling from that nightmare you had swept under the rug.

Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you pushed your computer off of your lap to make room for him the way you used to.

A part of you wanted to make him feel loved but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it when it wasn’t true anymore. The Ricky you loved, whoever he was, this didn’t feel like him anymore.

Instead, you offered what you could.

“I think you still have that kid in you.”

Ricky paused for a moment, eyes trailing over your room to look at himself in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes narrowed as if mentally exhausted.

“Do I?” There was another beat of silence before he sighed, laying his head onto your now clear lap and looking up at you with a smile.

Reaching up a hand, he teasingly tapped you on the nose. Cringing, you shoved his hand away.

“Hm… maybe I do.”

Over the next few months, you’d gotten used to the change in Ricky. Or at least you tried to convince yourself that you were used to it, in reality your relationship had became a train wreck.

Ricky flaking on plans was unusual but your suspicion came back when he had told you he was going to hang out with a guy— only for said guy to come up a week later dead.

The more times it happened, it became obvious that it had to do with him. Anytime you tried to bring it up, he’d lose his temper and ice you out again.

Maybe it was because you found comfort in familiar places that you decided to let him convince you everything was fine.

Someone that you knew so well, he had changed.

“You’re killing people.” It sounded ridiculous to say out loud. The way he scoffed, brushing you off completely.

“Just some guys, it’s not like they’ll be missed.” This time it was your turn to scoff.

“You— that’s not your right to decide! What.. are you? I mean- what happened to you, Ricky?”

Groaning, he rolled his neck to crack it. “Can’t you just stay out of it?” The tone in his voice made your blood boil, as if he was looking down at you.

As if you were a fly annoyingly buzzing in his ear.

That was when the fight broke out.

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” You knew that he was trying to convince you, but you could tell even he didn’t believe that.

He’d flashed the smile you missed so dearly and he pulled you in, hand cradling the back of your head so gently.

The pit in your stomach told you to run— but you didn’t.

Before you knew it, teeth had broken into skin, a sweet venom pulsating under his tongue.

It happened in a flash and you’d thrown him off. All he did was laugh.

There was so much anxiety in the moment— a hint of hope and faith that you had pushed away fast enough.

Some delusional belief that you were an exception, that you were fine. But it was all unnecessary.

Once you let your heart take over, it was already out of your hands. There was nothing you could do to change the fact that it would either work or it won't.

All you could think of in the moment was all the people you had watched die— how you’d knowingly pushed aside your morals to hold onto the ghost of someone who was taken far too early.

There was a time when you considered Ricky one of the brightest things in your life. The ring around your finger he gave you when you were younger, how you’d subconsciously turn it when you were anxious.

There were things you had chosen back in your lunchbox days: clocks to tell the time you’d spent with the heartbeat separate to yours. The heartbeat sitting across from you in the sandbox, drawing shapes on the ground.

The heart that had now gone cold, the heart yours would soon follow.

The items that made up your school days: pencils, erasers, and a book of blank pages with words written on sand through all the ages.

A spoon and bowl he’d brought when you were sick, a phantom meal or a family recipe for you to warm.

A cup to catch the rain— he’d empty half of his into yours to quench your thirst and dull your pain.

After that fight you were down to one, looking down at the tools littering your desk on a Monday night and you couldn't choose.

A knife and a picture of him.

You knew what you had to do to put an end to it all— the gruesome deaths and murders. To hold on to the last bit of humanity you had left in you, it had to be done.

Slowly, you were going to follow in his footsteps— but you’d finish it before you let that happen.

Whatever he had become, you didn’t know it anymore. A million questions remained unanswered but one thing was for certain: you wouldn’t let him hurt anyone again.

Wherever Ricky was now, you’d find him and end things.

Bloodlust and childhood memories were a bittersweet mix, forever bonding the two of you until your end. Although you were convinced that you would be bonded even beyond that.

Sandbox love never dies, after all.

જ⁀➴♡ phone in ᝰ.ᐟ

#. ˚◞♡ ZEROBASEONE #. ˚◞♡ ricky #shen quanrui #zb1 imagines #zb1 scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader #ricky x reader

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