#turns out his angst is that he acts too light hearted when his heart is very heavy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

milkteabinniechan · 3 days ago

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♡Sandcastles - Chan

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: nerd! Chan x best friend! reader

summary: it's finally spring break and with final exams in the rearview mirror, it's time for you and your best friend to enjoy a well-deserved beach day.

warnings: inexperienced Chan, experienced reader, angst, insecurities, body issues, (you make Chan feel better about himself!!) light kissing, so much fluff <333

a/n: sorry for the little hiatus but I am officially back with the first story in the Stray College series :') I hope y'all like it!!!

“Hey, wanna eat lunch together?” Chan said with a bright smile as he scooches toward you. As you sit down next to each other, you both reach for the sandwiches splayed on your trays. “So, how has your day been so far?” Chan asks, trying to keep the conversation light and casual, but his heart races slightly at the proximity to you.

“Oh, fine. What about yours?” You ask. You peel back the lid of your pudding before bringing it to your lips.

Chan watches you lick the pudding clean from the flimsy lid, his mind wandering briefly before he snaps back to the conversation. "Mine was okay, just the usual." He swallows hard, trying to ignore the sudden butterflies in his stomach. You turn towards him, noticing the pile of textbooks next to his arm. Chan has always been too hard on himself when it comes to studying.

“How has biology been? I know the test last week was brutal.” you ask.

Chan chuckles softly, running a hand through his hair. “Oh god, don't remind me. I was up all night studying for that thing.” He pauses, glancing at you with a small smile. “You did pretty well on it, right? I remember you aced the practice tests.”

You feel that familiar warmth start to build in your stomach at his words. A feeling that only Chan has seemed to master to create inside of you.

“Ha, yeah. I guess I did alright on it.”

Chan's eyes linger on your flushed cheeks, a faint warmth spreading through his own chest. “That's great to hear. You're really smart, you know that?” He looks away quickly, his face growing hot. “So, um, have you decided what you're doing for spring break yet?”

Spring break. Most of the students had made plans months ago to go on exotic vacations and expensive cruises. But the two of you had been so caught up with finals that it didn't leave much time for planning. You chew the bottom of your lip in thought. Something easy, something fun, and most importantly, something affordable on a student budget. Your eyes suddenly light up with an idea. “Oh! How about a beach day?”

His heart skips a beat at your enthusiasm. “A... a beach day?” His voice cracks slightly. “That... that sounds nice.” He fidgets with his food, trying to hide a nervous smile. “Though... I'm not really the most experienced swimmer…” He lied. Truth was, Chan loved to swim but hadn't done it in years. You give him a warm smile, nudging his arm with yours playfully. “That's okay! We'll just hang out on dry land, make sandcastles and get food and tan!”

Chan blushes deeper at the playful nudge, his stomach fluttering with excitement and nerves. “A tan, huh? I'd really like that. With you.”

Your face turned a brighter shade of red. “Then it's a date! meet me tomorrow at Eagle Crest beach okay? And don't forget your bathing suit!” You give Chan a wink before grabbing your lunch tray and walking away. Chan's jaw nearly drops at your wink, his entire body flushing red as he watches you walk away. He mutters softly to himself, hardly believing what just happened "A-a date? Did... did we just... oh god…”

The next day, Chan arrives at Eagle Crest Beach, his heart pounding like a drum solo as he scans the crowd for you. He's armed with SPF 100 sunscreen, an oversized beach towel (his shield against embarrassment), and a stomach full of butterfly-flavored nerves. He spots your waving arm and makes his way over, trying to act casual despite his racing heart. As he gets closer, he sees the towels and umbrella, realizing you actually meant this to be a real beach day, not just a meet-up. "You... you planned this.”

Your eyes follow his as the two of you take in the set up you've made for the day. Embarrassment washes over you like a cold wave as you realize you may have done too much, been too eager, too excited and now he would feel uncomfortable. “It's nice.” Chan whispers under a smile. You smile back and decide to make yourself comfortable. You lift your shirt to reveal a bright red bathing suit top. Chan's eyes widen as he takes in your red bikini top, his mind blanking for a moment before he quickly averts his gaze, blushing furiously. He swallows hard, trying to act normal as he spreads his beach towel next to yours. He looks down at his baggy white T-shirt, then back at your bikini top, gulping audibly. He hesitantly pulls his T-shirt over his head, revealing a chiseled physique.

Your eyes flicker over to him innocently before they drink in the entire view. He catches you staring at his abdomen as he adjusts his towel, his muscles flexing unintentionally. He's always been shy about his physique, but seeing your reaction makes him feel a strange warmth spreading across his chest, not from the sun. "You... you good?”

Your mouth goes dry at the moment he turns towards you. What a ridiculous fucking question. Your voice is now a strangled and raspy mess. “You're…RIPPED!”

His face turns beet red at your compliment, running a hand through his hair nervously "Oh, um, I... I just workout sometimes. In my room. It started as a way to stay fit and healthy but I just really enjoy it now.”

Your face splits into a wide smile hearing Chan talk about something he genuinely enjoys that isn't school. His eyes seem to glimmer at the mention of it. “Maybe we could workout together sometime?” You push your shoulder into his gently. Chan lets out a chuckle then a deep breath. A breath he didn't know he was holding onto. “I'd like that.” He says softly, his eyes still fixed on the sand at his feet.

The two of you sit together, listening to the waves crashing and breaking into the shore. Soon, most of the people have gone home leaving the two of you and a single umbrella punctured in the shoreline.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice carries over lapping water.

“Sure.”

“You have no idea how hot you are, do you?” You ask, keeping your eyes fixed on the cool blues and greens of the ocean.

Chan coughs into his can of beer. The smell of hops spurts back into his nose as he uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. “Excuse me?” His head snaps to you.

“You heard me, bookworm.” You exclamate your words with the sound of your beer can clanking against his.

“I guess, no? I don't really consider myself ‘hot’.” Chan confesses. And it was the truth. He had never been told he was the hot guy before. He was the “nice guy”. The guy that helped you with your homework, the guy that your parents trusted to stay out late with, the guy that followed the rules. “I'm not that guy.” His voice drops to a solemn tone.

You set your empty can of beer down next to you and turn to face Chan, a cheeky smirk growing quickly. “Sorry to be the one to break this to you, but you are that guy. You're the hot guy.”

Chan's eyes lock with yours and for a moment even the waves seem to have slowed themselves to see what would happen next. He knew what the “hot guy” would do in this situation. He would grab the girl and kiss her, right? Right?! He swallows hard, his eyes following yours to his own lips. He feels a sudden urge to close the distance between you, to kiss you and see if the attraction he feels is mutual. But his shyness holds him back, leaving him stuck in place, his lips parted slightly. You let out a soft chuckle and roll your eyes, pulling his face to yours. “Come here, you.”

His eyes widen right before your lips meet his, surprise giving way to pleasure. He melts into the kiss hesitant at first, overwhelmed but eager. After a moment, he timidly begins to reciprocate, his inexperienced lips moving clumsily against yours. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss slightly, trying to mimic what he's seen in movies. He can feel your body pressed against his, making him acutely aware of his own thick frame. He breaks the kiss briefly to whisper, "How's that for the ‘hot guy’?”

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therainywriter · 3 days ago

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Pitiful Thing (Angst/Slightly Suggestive)

Pairing: Young-il/ In-ho/ Frontman x Reader

Horrific, the scene playing out in front of you was something out of a nightmare. A part of you didn't want to believe it, wanted to convince your panicked being that this was only a dream.

You knew that wasn't the case, as much as you so desperately wished it was.

Your ears rang as shots fired past you, ending the lives of everyone who went running to the doors. Their screams pained you, twisting your heart so violently you couldn't help the hot tears that fell from your eyes.

"You have to keep moving!!" 456 yelled, his eyes met yours in a frantic sort of plea. He was right, the games only served to kill players in a demented fight for money. Money you didn't even want anymore.

Your lungs burned as you forced yourself to follow 456, you'd follow his lead. He was your only chance at getting out of here alive.

"Red light!"

456's voice was muffled against his arm as he tried to help everyone. You could hardly focus on it, heart pumping loudly within your ears as you sucked deep breaths in.

"...It's not able to detect you if you're behind something! So, if you're short line up behind someone who's taller than you!" and with that, green light shortly followed.

Everyone did as he said, progressing ahead in multiple rows. All moving more efficiently towards the finish line. Closer and closer, step by step.

It felt like a blur when you finally made it past that stupid giant doll. You covered your mouth, willing the sobs that tried to escape away. You should have never come here, never agreed to this.

But how were any of you supposed to know?

One last shot pierced the air. You jumped, turning to find the man 456 and 120 saved now lifeless on the ground. Your lip trembled, eyes blurring once again as you looked away.

You were sat curled in your bed when the guards came in and congratulated the remaining players. It was a repulsive circumstance to commend everyone for, as if 96 human beings hadn't died in the process.

There would be a vote, and despite the 9.1 billion won that had accumulated from death, you were certain these people weren't mindless enough to stay.

With each passing vote you fell even more hopeless, how was everyone so divided? Why would anyone want to stay after being in such distress, after seeing so many die?

456 tried talking sense into the others, but his efforts appeared to be futile. They wouldn't listen, they were too focused on a cash price that was likely to take their life.

Your hand fell from your red velcro patch after the last person voted, putting the score to 182-183. You were going to have to play again, you weren't going home.

You struggled to hold it together, breaths coming out sharp. Player 001 caught your eyes just as tear fell down your cheek.

It was as though the world stopped for him when he saw your face, those big, sad eyes silently asking how he could ever do such a thing.

He almost felt guilty, seeing an innocent little thing who shouldn't at all be involved in his games. He frowned ever so slightly and looked away, he couldn't afford to get so easily distracted.

You swore you saw remorse in his dark eyes, face emotionless as he disappeared into the crowd of blue.

They announced the dreadful results and everyone returned to their bunks, now seemingly separated by what side they voted for. You should've known greed would drive these peoples decisions, you felt naive for thinking otherwise.

Dinner was served and you occupied yourself with eating, not noticing how hungry you actually were until you got a mouthful of rice. Your only moment of peace was ruined as there was a ruckus not far from you.

A player was being held back as a guy with purple hair went to swing at him. You didn't think as you jumped up, rushing over to the altercation. They were kicking the poor guy on the floor when you made it to them.

"Hey, stop that!! Quit acting like savages, we should be helping each other!" you pulled the purple haired on back, trying to stand between him and who you could see now to be 333.

"Why don't you mind your business, yeah? Unless you were just trying to get attention from the great Thanos," he said with a smirk, head tilting as he looked a bit crazed.

"What? No, that's- that's not what I was trying to do," you explained, taken aback at his accusation.

Before he could say anything else you felt someone come up behind you, a warm body that encompassed yours. A large hand pushed you behind who you could see now to be 001.

"What makes you think you can act like that? It's bad manners, not to mention two against one." he said so calmly.

Thanos sauntered toward the man, "You're in here just like everyone else, so cut the lecture... grandad."

He was unbelievably full of himself, expression smug, "How about instead of yip-yapping at me, you go back home to your own kids, you yell at them?"

They exchanged only a few more words and 001 had Thanos by the neck, kicking his accomplice to the ground when tried to lunge at him. He let go of the purple haired fool in his grip, only to force him to the ground when he raised his fist.

001 had him by the throat again, his own fist in the air as he stared at the boy, watching his face contort and slowly lose oxygen. Pleas fell from the rappers mouth and only seconds later he was released.

You could only stand and watch, faintly worried that he was going to kill the player. But you couldn't deny the way he handled them stirred something within you.

Something awakened from the way his veiny hand wrapped around the throat of Thanos. You faintly wondered how it would feel around your throat.

The room erupted in an applause, and 001 led you along with him, hand at your back. "Why don't you come sit with us, it'll be safer," you nodded and thanked him, pushing your shameful thoughts to the back of your mind.

You smiled as you were met with his group, the one who'd played the games before offering a sympathetic expression, "Gi-hun," he said, hand reaching out to shake yours.

You exchanged names with everyone, turning to meet the one who very well saved your ass from Thanos.

"Young-il," he said with a slight smile, "You're awfully brave to try and rationalize with them."

You sighed, "It was a sad attempt, thank you again for knocking some sense into them. I think you made the marines a little jealous," voice growing hushed at the last part, having seen their rather amusing military show earlier.

He scoffed with a grin, "I don't know, they seem rather pleased with themselves," They sat a bunk below the two of you, giggling on over a joke you wished you were a part of.

"They look so happy, for the time being," you commented dismally, the playful glint held previously in your eyes dimming. The reality of the situation ever so present.

You felt a hand at your shoulder, reassuring and warm. "You will get out of here," Young-il said with a promising gaze. You looked at him with wide eyes, words catching in your throat as you fought off tears.

"How can you be so sure?" you questioned. "I wont let you die, trust me on that." He said it so certainly, so confidently that you found yourself trusting his words.

"Okay," you whispered after a moment, believing the stranger despite the blue circle stuck to his jacket. He made you feel secure, for reasons you couldn’t quite explain.

You tossed and turned once the lights went out, unable to rest with flashes of the game and Thanos. littering your head. With a huff you sat up, sneaking over to a bed just a few over from your own.

You hesitated, "Young-il?" you asked quietly. His voice was raspy in his response, "What's wrong, is everything okay?" you felt bad waking him, you should've stayed in bed.

"Nevermind.. I'm sorry I-" He grabbed your wrist and pulled you into bed beside him.

"Couldn't sleep?" he questioned, rolling to his back as to not be spooning you.

"No," you admitted, "I know we're strangers- but you make me feel safe... and after all that with Thanos, I'm scared he's going to try and get me." It felt silly to say it aloud, but it was true. you felt protected with him, you could rest your eyes without worry of someone trying to murder you.

He was unsure of how to respond to your sweet confession. You were an angel in a swarm of demons. A pitiful little thing running to the arms of the most dangerous one here.

He isn't going to let you die here, no, he's going to keep you all to himself, protect you. He'd made up his mind ever since he saw those pretty tears leaving your eyes when he voted to stay.

He felt you moving closer, arms wrapping around his as your head rest beside his shoulder. He moved his hand and patted the side your face, "Rest up doll, nobody's going to get you."

The pet name awoke butterflies within your stomach, and suddenly you weren't struggling to go to sleep because of fear, but rather because of the welcoming heat of Young-il next to you.

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shaylogic · 8 months ago

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In the attic sequence when Edwin is helping Charles through his gradual death, Charles coughs hard at the table. Edwin asks if he's alright. He quickly says "Yeah I'm fine, answer my question! When did you go to school here?"

Even when Charles was very literally dying, he was still pushing the "don't worry about me haha" and then he DIED.

#obsessed with his character arch #charles rowland #edwin payne #dbda #dead boy detectives #dead boy detectives spoilers #thinking about this constantly #text post #i love lighthearted characters haha #turns out his angst is that he acts too light hearted when his heart is very heavy

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moonlight-prose · 4 months ago

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a request, if i may, of praising old man logan as he filfthly eats you out and it makes him combust the more you praise him? okay running away again

speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life

a/n: look at him taking off his glasses in absolute shock of this ask- no okay does old man logan have a praise kink? i would raise it higher and say every version of logan has a massive praise kink. this is a man who wants to know he's doing good in life. his love language is acts of service so he might get to hear a pretty thank you. also i'm not sorry for how feral this got. i have no explanation.

summary: he knew he loved you when your words begin to piece his heart back together. he knew he loved you when he flourishes at your praise. he knew he loved you when nothing in this world could matter but the sound of your voice telling him you love him too.

word count: 3k+

pairing: old man!logan x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), praise kink, logan is obsessed, dirty talk via reader, he is so pretty when he blushes, manhandling, cumplay, cumeating, overstimulation, crying, he's needy in this one, angst, tortured soul of an old man, reverence, religious trauma + greek mythology hints.

He can feel the strings of fate pull tight around his broken heart. In a failed attempt to draw him back together. To piece together an organ that barely beat for him anymore. He might have felt it once, before it broke. Before it gnarled itself like the branches of a dying tree, one half twisting away from the other in a desperate attempt of survival.

He deemed it a useless part of his body until you came along. You with your smile that held enough cloying sweetness to choke him as he stood helpless. Silently begging for you to say his name. To bring him back to life.

Whatever horrors that plagued his mind—endless nightmares that promised nothing but anguish—suddenly came crashing to a halt at the sight of you. So pretty in your denim jeans and velvet top. An angel seated in the center of a bar that held more filth than you deserved to be near. Logan couldn’t fathom that luck struck him this hard.

Not when death had already claimed his soul; notched yet another tally in the endless wall of people that came before.

He felt the dirt pack under his nails as he clawed his way out of the grave he put himself in. Years spent alone—a man lost to the ravages of time—had turned him bitter. With rough edges and biting words that stung far more than he intended. How could he believe he deserved to live after he contributed so much to the endless pool of blood that tainted his soul? How was he allowed such softness after biting off bits of brutality his whole life?

Logan was pretty sure he survived on borrowed time that had already run out. He could feel death breathe down his neck as the days went on. A reminder that what little of his life remained would be spent suffering. And he found that accepting it was easier than battling against the will of God, or whoever toyed with his lifeline.

It was far easier to die than find a reason to live.

Until you said his name.

Softly. Sweetly. Reverence wrapped in a tight grasp of need.

You brought him back from the edge—took his hand and refused to take no for an answer. You and the safety of your touch; the promise in your kiss. You dragged him into a life he didn’t earn; one that almost tasted too sweet—too sour.

After near a decade of being buried beneath the dirt, he felt himself collapse above ground and suck in his first real gasp of fresh air. Alive, once more. Hell spit him out with a vow of love and who was he to argue against it.

His fingers dug into your plush thighs, tugging them open to see what lay between. He marveled at their softness, eyes wide and awestruck at the sight of you spread beneath him. You practically glowed in the dim light of the bedside table. Yellow, musty, yet angelic when it caressed your body with its heavenly touch.

He wondered if this was real life; your nails digging sharply into his shoulders gave him the answer.

"Logan," you sighed, voice high with need.

The strings pulled taught. A vice like hold that drew him to you.

Maybe that's what this unutterable feeling was. The gnawing pit at the bottom of his heart. A greed he'd never indulged before—too afraid of what it might ask for next. He wasn't a man who asked for much. Rather someone that found himself far too content with nothing. But tonight he found his lips forming the words of a false prayer that his mother taught him as a child.

Hail the angel in his bed. Hail every good fucking thing you brought into his life.

His teeth sunk into your thigh, body jolting at your responding moan. Fingers dug into his hair, tugging at the mussed locks with a high pitched whine. You were a needy little thing, but Logan found he desperately wanted to be needed.

He smiled laving his tongue over the tender spot, working his way up to where you dripped for him.

So slick. So perfect.

Saliva filled his mouth. "What do ya want baby?"

Your chest heaved; he could feel the heat of your body under his palms. "Your m-mouth Logan."

His eyes trailed along your brow covered in a sheen of sweat. The room was thick with the humid air of the outside world. But that didn't deter him from craving your skin near his. The pressure of your thighs around his head a welcome weight. If he sunk his teeth in where the curve of your leg met your hip he knew he could draw out that soft choking noise he longed to hear on days spent driving alone.

If he had his way he'd crawl into you to seek your serenity straight from the source. He'd never divulge about the ache that chewed him up on the inside, but Logan wondered if you knew. Could you tell how much he craved you? How much he couldn't live without you.

When your glittering eyes met his, the resolve he spent years building cracked like glass. You peered into him as if he was a stained glass window. A god you were more than happy to worship.

"You want me to lick this pretty pussy?" Fuck, he sounded drunk off your taste already.

His mouth hovered over your throbbing clit, your scent now filling his senses. Overwhelming him with what he wanted most. But he needed to hear it. The lilt of your begging; the soft echo of your need that washed over him like soothing river water.

He couldn't live without it.

"Yes," you sobbed, thigh twitching.

The string sliced his heart open, blood pooling onto the white bed sheets. Oh what a sweet death your love made. Oh...what a bittersweet way to go.

He'd die right now if you asked him to. Hand over his heart on a silver platter if you so wished it. Maybe that made him far too gone for his own good, but Logan couldn't remember a time in his life where he got this. Safety. The hope of love burning far too bright and far too hot for him to fly near it.

Yet there he was. Icarus happily soaring in your sun like glow.

"I got ya honey," he murmured. "Gonna take care of what's mine."

You nodded frantically—tears welling up in your eyes. "You take care of me Logan."

The breath in his chest stuttered, eyes dark as the words fell past your swollen lips. He wanted to explain why his cock twitched against his stomach. Why he now leaked into the sheet with heavy panted breaths. But every time he came up short with the words needed to form an answer.

"Yeah I do sweetheart," he breathed. "Don't I?"

"Uh-huh."

"Take care of what belongs to me."

There was no warning when his hands dragged you closer with a rough tug, mouth closing over your clit with a desperate suck. A cry wrenched from your mouth, sparks sharply traveling down your spine. He licked through your slick with a growl. Hands an unbreakable press against your thighs.

The sight of your body bowed, mouth open for small gasped breaths that never came, snapped something in his mind. He was an old man. Well past his years. But the taste of your pussy along his tongue brought back a ferocity he often tamped down in his younger age. He felt the feral want claw at his chest, and answered it with a broken snarl.

Swallowing down every drop you gave him, he plunged his tongue into your entrance, thrusting messily until a smear of your shiny slick began to coat his mouth. It covered his cheeks and clung to the hair of his beard. He'd clean it out later, taste you on his tongue until he was aching for another go. But for now he was preoccupied with the way you cried for him.

"Oh fuck!" Your thighs trembled over his shoulders, hips canting down to drag yourself along his tongue. "So good."

He shuddered, eyes rolling back at the sound of your praise. You caught it within seconds, lips pulling into a breathless smile that left him gasping for air. His teeth nipped at your thigh briefly as his hips ground into the mattress below.

"You like that baby?" you breathed, thumb smearing your own slick against his cheek.

Something hot washed over his body. A needy sick and twisted ache that he'd never indulged in before. He wanted to be a good man to you; longed to be needed. And fuck if you didn't give him everything.

You were his walking wet dream. His future handed off and wrapped in a neat little bow.

"L-Love your tongue Logan-" A high gasp tore from your throat when he dived back in. Slurping at your clit with a heady moan as you dragged him closer. "Taking care of me so well."

His hips canted down into the bed, fucking his cock along the warmth of his stomach, as you gushed into his mouth again. Eyes zeroed in on your face, pupils dilated as he growled into your flesh. You no longer could see the man you loved, but the feral side he tamped down during the day. The animal he longed to release in your presence.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum."

His arms looped around your thighs and with a sharp yank, he had his face buried deep enough to suffocate himself. You sobbed an incoherent version of his name. Nails clawed at his shoulders, but Logan could feel the pulse of your clit under his tongue.

He sucked it into his mouth with a grunt, rolling it along his tongue as you trembled with the oncoming shocks of an orgasm that threatened to destroy you.

Tears dripped down your cheeks and Logan felt the satisfying part of his heart begin to stitch itself back together. The strings were tight enough to numb his pain. To quell the flare of agony.

That used to be all he knew, all he counted on most days. When there was nothing left and he'd propped the shovel in the dirt—his grave open and waiting—he stumbled right into your arms. He found his reason for living.

Heat curled around his spine as you shook with the impending orgasm—the stimulation on your clit practically debilitating. He grunted into your soaked flesh, eyes narrowed as he chased the release that pulled his stomach taut. But this wasn't for him to indulge in; this wasn't his pleasure.

So with a throaty moan you felt reverberate along your body, he scraped his teeth along your clit and watched as your body went stiff.

"Logan!" you cried, fingers scrambling for purchase on any part of him you could reach.

You gushed into his awaiting mouth, praises of it's so good, you're so good falling upon his ears like the whimpered prayers of a devout worshiper thanking your god.

"Taste so fuckin' good," he mumbled, drunk on what you gave him.

He didn't care that you were jolting with each pass of his tongue along your pussy. He didn't care that you were shocked with overstimulation, small broken cries of his name muffled by the press of your thighs against his ears. He licked at you until he couldn't breathe. Buried his tongue into your twitching entrance and sucked out your cum with a happy hum.

"P-Please." You tugged at his hair, pulling him off you with a sob. "I-I can't anymore Logan."

"'M not fuckin' finished," he said, eyes glazed and face coated in your slick.

You made a mess of his face. The light catching along where you spilled into his mouth and along his throat. And still he wanted more. He'd spend hours between your thighs, burning your skin with his beard, if it meant he could divulge in your sweetness.

"It hurts-"

A grunt rumbled in his chest, his arms tugging you back even as your feet kicked along his back. "Just one more honey. Yeah?"

You shook your head. "B-But-"

"Thought you said it was good."

"It is."

"Then lemme be good for you." He wanted to tell you that the world went quiet between your thighs. That all his grief, all his pain, lessened when you sobbed his name.

He wanted to show you the string that looped his heart to yours—the only thing keeping him alive—and thank you for bringing him back from the dead. But words weren't his forte. Violence had become the only tenderness he knew and you didn't deserve the rough edges of an old man. You should have more.

But when you let him touch you like this—caress your skin and lick between your folds—he felt as if he was a man who finally was worthy of someone as precious as you. He could pretend he didn't bear the brunt of a fucked up soul.

The weight on his chest lifted when your tear filled gaze met his and you nodded. Small, barely there, but it was enough for him to seal his mouth back over you with a ragged moan. Your body shook as his tongue slid through the seam of your pussy. The tip nudging against your clit—careful to draw the pleasure from your body slowly.

He didn't want to give you pain. His heart wouldn't survive that. But he was a broken man; someone who begged for more even as his teeth sunk into what was already given.

You were his meal. His sacrament in the midnight hours until dawn broke across the darkened sky. You were the other half of his soul.

How could he not indulge in your sweetened tang until his tongue went stiff?

"I love you," you sighed, eyes rolled back when he sucked at your pussy, a wet low moan echoing in the air. "My p-perfect husband."

The cold press of his wedding band against your thigh drove him over the edge. You weren't officially married. Didn't have the backyard wedding with a preacher to match. But Logan had placed a ring on your finger near a year ago, sliding one over his own with the vow of forever cemented in his words.

Even if that didn't mean much in the eyes of a god who abandoned him near a century ago.

"Oh-"

Your head tipped back, mouth dropping open as his fingers dipped into your wet heat. Thrusting lazily until he found the spongey patch along your walls—driving the pad of his middle finger into it with a needy moan.

He knew it wouldn't take long for you to fly off the edge of a second release. That didn't make watching you climb to that peak any less satisfying. The sight appeased his soul. It gave him a chance to breathe; let him know that after so much bad—after so much pain—he could do something good. He could bring you to the edge of pleasure and drag you over again and again.

He could finally be the man you believed he was.

Not the animal they created.

"C'mon," he muttered. Eyes fixed on the shape of your breasts as your body curved off the bed. Hips dragging along his face with a stunted cry.

A wail bounced off the walls, piercing his eardrums with the symphony of your cries. His fingers rapidly pumped into you with a squelch that had heat burning his cheeks—lips pulling your throbbing clit into his mouth as you broke. The climax slammed into you; battering your already swollen pussy.

Logan could feel his cock swell at the sight.

"Fuckin' perfect," he grunted, teeth bared as he clambered to his knees and wrapped his fist soaked in your slick around his leaking cock. "'M gonna cum sweetheart."

Your eyes fluttered open, fingers digging into his thigh. "Please. Wanna see it baby. Look so pretty when you cum Logan."

His chest tightened, body shaking while you watched in rapture as he fucked his fist rapidly. He wouldn't fucking last, could feel the burning consume his body, but something held him back. The string around his heart yanked him away from the edge, tearing a cry from his throat when his frustration peaked.

You could see it—the glimmer of need in his dark eyes. This wasn't the first time he longed for your words. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

So you spread your legs and sat up slowly—arms wrapping around his shoulders to bring his lips down to yours. A soft moan was muffled by your mouth; the peak of his release within reach. He could practically feel the tips of his fingers graze it.

"Cover my pussy baby," you mumbled into his mouth. "Be good for me and mark what's yours."

The growl came from the very bottom of his chest when he finally came. Your name was a bitten out snarl pressed to your mouth in an open mouth kiss as he spurted over his knuckles. He pumped his cock to milk every drop; eyes fixed on the way it covered the swollen lips of your pussy. Dripping down to your entrance that fluttered at the sight of his sweaty and crimson tinged face.

"I fuckin' love ya honey," he murmured, hand cupping your chin to drag your lips back to his. "Best thing that's happened in my life is you."

You smiled, thumbs pressing to his cheeks. "Love you too Logan."

Clutching you close, he felt the string go loose. The breath finally rushing back into his lungs at the sight of your eyes glowing with the kind of light that brought him back to the first day The night he met you in that shitty bar—alcohol the only thing on his mind until he saw you.

The night you spoke his name over his covered grave and dragged him back to life with a smile.

#logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett smut #old man logan #my writing

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yuujispinkhair · 7 months ago

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College Boy!Sukuna accidentally knocking you up

A while ago, I saw a post that asked which of our faves accidentally knocks us up, and I answered it with "CollegeBoy!Sukuna." So here is the fic about that ;)

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. College AU. Light angst with a happy end. 2k words. Pregnancy, mentions of Sukuna smoking a cigarette. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider@/plutism + dollsciples

"Damn, princess, how long does that shitty thing need?"

Sukuna has dropped his usual act of aloofness. For once, there is no teasing comment coming out of his mouth, no arrogant smirk, no flirty wink, and no charming look out of those beautiful maroon eyes. Your usually so arrogant and tough bad boy is scared shitless.

For the last few minutes, he has been playing with his tongue-piercing continuously, driving you almost insane with the constant noise of the metal barbell connecting with Sukuna's teeth. But you can't blame him. You are even more nervous than Sukuna.

You lean closer to the old couch table again, looking at the pregnancy test that's lying there, and your stomach twists painfully. There's a change now. A second line has appeared on the little test strip. You feel your heart drop.

The alarm on your phone goes off right at that moment, making you jump as you grab the test with shaky fingers. Holding the sheet with the instructions in the other hand, you read them feverishly as if you haven't already learned them by heart. As if you don't already know what the two lines mean!

Sukuna leans across the table, too,

"What does it say?"

But you only hear his voice muffled as if you are underwater. You stare at the two lines on the pregnancy test, feeling your head spin. Sukuna's large hand darts out and wraps around your trembling wrist, pulling your hand and the test towards him while repeating his question more urgently this time.

But you can't say anything and just throw the test in Sukuna's lap. He grabs it and stares at it, his maroon eyes going wide as comprehension dawns on his beautiful, tattooed face.

"Fuck."

That's all he says, and then he looks at you with wide eyes, shock and fear written all over his face. He looks younger somehow, like a scared little boy. His lips open, but no words come out. He closes them again and gulps hard.

And then Sukuna gets up from the couch and practically bolts from the small living room, walking so fast that he has reached the apartment door before you even realize what he's doing.

His large hand is already on the door handle, pushing it open when your mind finally catches up with what is going on, and you feel like tumbling into darkness.

Sukuna is going to run, isn't he? Of course, he's going to leave! Of course, a guy like him is only interested in having fun but no responsibility! Of course, he will always stay the bad boy who just likes to party and fuck and do whatever the hell he wants! And a pregnant girlfriend is the last thing he needs!

Your hands ball into fists. You're about to scream at him or cry or break down.

But before you can do any of that, Sukuna stops in the doorway.

He is standing there with his back to you, so tall that his hair is almost brushing against the doorframe. You watch him fumble ungracefully with his cigarettes in a way that is completely untypical for him, nearly dropping the pack and needing several tries to light a cigarette before he brings it to his lips with a shaky hand and takes a deep drag.

You let out a slow breath, slumping back against the couch.

He didn't leave.

Sukuna turns his head slowly to look at you over his broad shoulder. Suddenly, his eyes widen, and he bangs the door shut and quickly strides back to the small living area, bending down to hastily stub his cigarette out in the ashtray on the couch table.

"Shit, I forgot that I shouldn't smoke when you are...," he stops mid-sentence, and his eyes wander to your belly, "when you are... ah fuck..."

Sukuna runs a trembling, tattooed hand through his pink hair. You both stare at each other for a long moment, both unable to say the words out loud. But your mind screams them at you:

Pregnant. You are pregnant with Sukuna's baby!

You have no idea how it even happened. Were Sukuna and you not careful enough? Maybe too horny and too drunk after one of the various parties you went to? Did a condom rip, and you didn't realize it? Maybe if it was any other month, things would have gone differently, but you had exams and were in a constant state of stress. You simply didn't have the mind to worry about anything else but studying and then fucking like bunnies for stress relief!

You feel so stupid. You were always so sure that something like this would never happen to you. An accidental pregnancy was something that only happened to those girls in those trashy reality TV shows!

Well, now look at you.

Pregnant from your college sweetheart, the bad boy with the face tattoos. The guy you are head over heels in love with but who you didn't even dare bring home to your parents yet because they took one look at a picture of the two of you, saw Sukuna's tattooed face and his pink hair, and deemed him a troublemaker who will only drag their sweet daughter into the gutter with him. And now he even managed to accidentally knock you up, and it will just be the cherry on top!

Finally, the tears spill over, and a sob escapes your trembling lips. Instinctively, you hug yourself, but your arms get pushed away just a second later, when Sukuna is pulling you to your feet and into his strong, tattooed arms, pulling you against him, holding you so tight you find it hard to breathe.

His lips press against your forehead, leaving little kisses and murmuring against your skin,

"I am sorry for almost running out that door like a fucking coward. I'm sorry, baby."

"It's ok, Kuna. You stopped and came back. That's what counts. But... I... I am so scared."

You sniffle and press yourself against Sukuna's tall, muscular body, seeking the comfort of his broad chest and his strong arms, which feel like home, letting your tears soak Sukuna's t-shirt that smells like him, like cigarette smoke and cherry blossoms and his typical sexy cologne.

Sukuna's arms tighten around you, and he makes a choked-up sound that you have never heard from him before. You feel him gulp hard, and then he speaks up in that low, velvety voice that sounds so much more serious than ever before,

"I promise I won't run. We're in this together. I got scared, too, because I am not the dad type of guy. I don't even have any idea how a dad is supposed to be because I've never had one. I mean, fuck! I am a mess! I don't even know what I want apart from living in the moment, having fun, being with you, and spending time with my brother. But you're my girl, and I'll be damned if I leave you alone with this! I won't run, princess, I promise."

You hear a strange noise, only to realize that it is coming from your own mouth, a strangled sob. You snuggle closer against Sukuna's chest, hiding your face in his t-shirt, clinging desperately to him, overwhelmed with the situation. But he is there for you. He rests his chin on top of your head and holds you, swaying you slightly from side to side.

His low voice is calm when he asks,

"Do you want to keep it?"

"I... I didn't even have the right mind to think about it yet."

Sukuna nods, and his arms tighten around you,

"It's ok. Take your time. If you want to get rid of it, then I will drive you to the hospital and take care of you afterward. And if you decide to have the baby... then I will be a dad. I never imagined myself with a kid, but this is different. This is our baby. And I know what it's like to grow up without parents. I don't want that for my child. My grandpa did a pretty good job with Yuuji and me before he became sick, but it's not the same as having a mom and a dad, I think. I won't let that happen to our kid."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a huge weight leave your shoulders at Sukuna's reassurance. You can see things a bit clearer now. And maybe it's not as hopeless as you thought.

Technically, you are old enough to be a mom, and you could just pause your studies for a semester or two and then return to your classes. Of course, things won't be as carefree anymore, and you will have a huge responsibility. On top of that, you really have no idea what life with a baby will be like. But you know now that you won't be alone with it.

You will have the boy you love by your side. No, you correct yourself, not the boy you love, but the man you love. Because the way Sukuna reacted so maturely and responsibly showed you that he isn't a boy anymore. He is a man. Your man. And you are even beginning to be able to imagine him as a dad. He is doing a pretty decent job as Yuuji's brother, too, after all, isn't he? Sure, Yuuji is the same age as Sukuna, but Sukuna still always acts like the big brother. So protective and caring, in a grumpy way, but sweet nonetheless.

Suddenly, the thought of a miniature version of Sukuna running around doesn't seem so scary anymore. You catch yourself wondering what your baby would look like if you decide to have it. Will it have Sukuna's eyes?

You lift your head to look up at him, and Sukuna's gaze meets yours. He looks deeply into your eyes, almost making you nervous with how intense those beautiful maroon eyes look at you,

"If you want to keep it, I will make damn sure you and the kid have it good. I promise you, princess. I am not going to run like some loser. I will learn everything about taking care of a child and how to be a dad and get my shit together. I will even stop smoking. I just... I love you, and this will be our little family, and I will fucking protect it with my life! We will make this work. We can move in together. We can ask Yuuji to babysit, and I can take the little gremlin to classes with me. I had someone do that in my history class, you know? Had his ugly little brat in a baby carrier. I could do that, too. Only difference is that our baby will be super pretty, of course."

You chuckle softly despite the shock, a mix of a sob and a laugh, feeling lighter now that you know your boyfriend will be there for you.

"I love you too, Sukuna. Thank you."

"No need to thank me. We will get through this together, no matter what you decide."

You snuggle against Sukuna's tall, muscular body and smile shakily up at him, sure that your pupils must have transformed into little hearts from the way your chest feels as if it's overflowing with love for your boyfriend. Your arrogant, rude, bad boy of a boyfriend, who, deep down, is such a good guy for the people he loves.

You smile and get on your tiptoes to press a kiss to Sukuna's tattooed jaw, a tender lingering touch, before you tell him softly,

"Let's sleep over it for a night or two, and then we'll decide what to do. But either way, I want you to know that you sound like you would be an amazing dad. I guess having your baby would be quite nice."

You can see Sukuna's gaze soften, and then he smirks that attractive smirk at you and pulls you even closer against him, leaning down so his lips brush over yours when he says,

"Let's see if you will still say that when the little brat turns out to be anything like me. I wasn't an easy child."

And you laugh and reach up to ruffle Sukuna's pink hair affectionately, tangling your fingers in the soft, pink strands,

"Well, how lucky that I have you by my side to look after Sukuna Number 2 then."

You feel Sukuna grin against your lips, and then he kisses you, slow and tender, and you practically melt against him.

You are still nervous but not as scared anymore. Sukuna is right: You are going to do this together. No matter what, you have Sukuna by your side. And, even though he doesn't look like it, your bad boy is actually a good man.

And maybe your decision is already made because the mental image of Sukuna going to class with a baby carrier strapped to his broad chest just won't leave your mind anymore.

SIGHHHHHH I think I would want his baby 😭

Thank you so much for reading! I love the mess that CollegeBoy!Sukuna is. He is very dear to me 💗 I am so proud of him for being so mature about this!! A good man and a good soon-to-be daddy.

In my head, I was singing "Papa, don't preach" the whole time while writing this ;)

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

Update: Part 2 Option A (Reader has an abortion) Part 2 Option B (Reader decides to have the baby)

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna #sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #ryomen sukuna #tw pregnancy

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lemonlover1110 · 2 months ago

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𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡

Toji Fushiguro

Ex-Rated Masterlist

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: There's an elephant in the room: Your new boyfriend that Toji has yet to hear about, someone that your daughter clearly knows. Toji needs to hear all the details.

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! Angst, Smut, Ex-Husband!Toji, Cheating, Vaginal Fingering, Nipple Play, Vaginal Sex, Biting, Scratching, Creampie

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

“I never want to see you again.” Were the last words you told Toji before handing him the divorce papers. As much as you want your words to hold true, there’s no way in hell that you can escape him.

In the end, he holds the last laugh.

He sits on your couch, making himself feel welcome in your home as your daughter pulls on his hair with claims that she’s brushing it. At least she’s getting payback for her mommy, even if she does it unknowingly. She finally stops when Toji cries out and yells,

“Stop! My scalp hurts.”

“You’re going to end up ugly.” She responds, and you can’t help but chuckle at her comment.

“No, he won’t end up ugly. He already is.” You murmur, not wanting your daughter to repeat the words back to her father. Though it’d make you proud to hear it from her, you don’t have to incite disrespectful behavior towards her father.

“I heard that!” Toji yells, and you roll your eyes, muttering yet another comment, this time about his ears. No matter what, in this situation he ends up losing. He picks up his daughter, and puts her down on his lap to keep her away from messing around with his hair.

“Where’s Megumi?” She asks, wondering where her older brother is. If she can’t play with Toji’s hair, she knows that Megumi will allow her to do anything to his hair.

“With his friend.” Toji answers, and a small pout comes to her face. Not only is she hearing that her brother isn’t here, but also that he’d rather spend time with a friend instead of his little sister. Granted, he does see her a lot, but in her mind, she should be everyone’s priority.

“I want another brother.” She crosses her arms, her little eyebrows meeting in the middle. Toji chuckles. No way in hell is he letting that happen.

“You’re not getting one from me.” Toji responds, though she’s unphased by the answer. Instead, she gets off her father’s lap and runs to you. She looks up at you with pleading eyes, and you pretend not to see her as you wash the dishes in the kitchen.

You still need to have a very awkward conversation with Toji. You don’t want your daughter to speak a little too much about your personal life when Toji is right there.

“Mommy, can you and Jin give me a brother?” She makes her voice loud and clear, making your heart drop. You feel your blood run cold as you feel his gaze burn a hole in your head.

“Jin? Who’s that, princess?” Toji’s voice gets sickly sweet as he questions his daughter. Something of his interest has come to light, and Toji will do anything to get information about it.

“He’s–” You begin, finally turning your head to look at Toji. The man glares at you, firmly telling you,

“I am asking my daughter.”

“Mommy’s boyfriend.” She lets it be known, and you bite down your lip. A sudden wave of guilt washes over you as the words roll off her tongue, and the feeling intensifies when you see a frown appear on Toji’s face.

“Jin Itadori? The father of Megumi’s friend?” Toji nearly sighs when you nod in response. He rolls his eyes, and tries to mask his anger by acting indifferent. Perhaps you should speak to him about what’s been going on, but you’re too much of a coward to speak up. It’s an intense conversation, one that you shouldn’t have in front of your daughter.

“Come here, princess.” Toji tells her, but she shakes her head. She wants a baby brother, and since Toji isn’t going to give her one then there’s no point in buttering him up.

“I’m going to my room!” She yells, before running away from the kitchen. You’re about to tell her to stop, her father came over to spend time with her but she’s run off.

The tension is thick in the air, and you feel your breath get caught up in your chest. You and Toji stare at each other for a long minute before the man stands up from the couch. He begins to walk to his daughter’s room, not bothering to say anything else.

A sigh of relief escapes your body when he leaves the room, even when you know the relief won’t last for too long. You have to speak to Toji about your romantic life, as uncomfortable as it is.

Toji finds himself upset at the revelation of your boyfriend– Not just anyone for a matter of fact, but Jin Itadori. He knows that you’ve had multiple encounters with Jin, and even though he wouldn’t dare question your loyalty before, Toji is now wondering if there was something that you kept from him.

Even if he’s sure that you’ve always been loyal to him, he still hates the thought of you and Jin being together. You’re allowed to be happy with whoever you’d like, but Jin is too close for comfort. Megumi and that Itadori child are the best of friends for fuck’s sake.

There might be some other underlying reasons for his disapproval of the relationship, but Toji would rather not think about it. He just wants to blame his feelings on the possibility of a past betrayal; something very unlikely, but anything that gets him away from facing his true feelings.

Toji knows that he has to ask you, but he isn’t sure how to speak about the subject when there’s a child constantly up his ass. So when he gets a text from you, asking you to come over to talk, he cancels all plans for the night and rushes to your apartment.

“Toji.” You awkwardly smile at him as you open the door. You look as you usually do, since there’s no point in dressing up to talk to Toji. The conversation will last thirty minutes at most. You gesture him inside, “Come in.”

“Where’s Asumi?” Toji asks for his daughter as he steps into the apartment. He wants to know where his daughter is spending the night before anything.

“I asked a friend to babysit.” You answer as he makes his way to the kitchen to grab himself something to drink. No matter what, Toji is going to treat your apartment as his own. It’s something you can appreciate when you’re not in the mood for hosting. You clear your throat before adding on, “I didn’t think it’d be appropriate for her to be here for this… She hears more than what I’d like to admit.”

“Yeah, like you calling me ugly the other day.” Toji points out as he opens a strange can that he finds in the fridge. He doesn’t bother reading it, he’s just thirsty and grabs whatever he can find. He knows it’s nothing alcoholic, you don’t drink alcohol anymore.

“Oh, you’re not going to like tha–” You try to warn him as Toji puts the can up to his lips and begins to chug it. All to spite you. It’s his way of telling you that he doesn’t follow your orders anymore. To his dismay, Toji quickly regrets not listening to you when he realizes it’s vegetable juice.

“Why would they put this in a can? And why do you have this?” He sounds distraught, and it takes everything in you to not laugh at his misery.

“Asumi loves vegetable juice.” You tell him once you’re sure that you won’t burst into laughter in his face.

“What a little weirdo.” He mutters before walking to the couch and taking a seat. He makes sure to manspread, making himself as comfortable as possible on your couch. He looks at you with a look of indifference– Indifference that tries to mask something else. “What is it? Just get it out of the way.”

“No foreplay, huh?” You respond, and he lets out a low brief laugh at your choice of words. He ends up humming in response, and you take a deep breath to get yourself ready to speak. You lick your lips before an awkward chuckle leaves your lips. You’re not sure how to start off.

“Take a seat.” Toji pats the little space next to him, and you do as he says. “You should start off with when you started seeing him, and make sure that there’s no overlap between our marriage and–”

“Are you asking if I cheated on you?” There’s a hint of offense in your voice, and Toji knows you enough that he picks up on it. But he doesn’t care to take back his statement, he wants an answer. “I should be the one asking you that– You know what, no. Whatever. I started dating him almost a year ago.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, hating the fact that you’re using his own question against him. You scoff, rolling your eyes at him. You can’t believe he’s asking this question.

“I filed for divorce, and within a week you had a hussy by your side.” You remind him, not wanting to recall the behavior that left a bad taste on your mouth. He wanted to show her off to you, but you remained as indifferent as possible which drove him insane.

You end up standing up from the couch, walking over to the front door. “Actually, thanks for the reminder. I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“Huh?” He furrows his eyebrows and you loudly yell,

“Get out!”

“No.” He remains glued to his seat, refusing to get up. He wants to hear more about whatever you and your loverboy have going on. “This is clearly a serious relationship, and he could be my daughter’s stepdad.”

“Yeah, that’s all you need to know.” You unlock the door and open it so the man gets out. You’re not going to take his accusation lightly, not after all that he’s put you through. “And for the record, since when do you care?”

“What are you saying?” Toji asks as he stands up from the couch. He walks over to you, one hand going to the door behind you and shutting it. He looks down at you with dark, scary eyes. Eyes that could make anyone fall to their knees, but they’re no longer intimidating to you.

“The reason we got divorced is because you didn’t want to step up as a father.” You point out, and a frown appears on his face. You fight back a smirk, feeling satisfaction with his evident anger. “So suddenly you care? Or do you not like the fact that I have a boyfriend?”

“What? So you’re saying I’m jealous?” Toji avoids reacting with the anger that you’re attempting to fuel. Toji has a cocky smirk on his lips before saying, “Because trust me when I say, I know I’m not missing out.”

“Good, I wouldn’t want you jealous because there’s no way in hell you can get me back.” You respond. You’re about to walk away, but Toji keeps you pinned to the door. You feel as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest in this position– And you know that if you’re kept here for longer then you’ll do something you regret. “Let me go, idiot.”

“We both know you don’t mean that.” Toji tells you, and you click your tongue. He’s right. You still find him attractive, and if he plays his cards right he just might have a chance– No you wouldn’t. You’re happy with whatever you have with your boyfriend, and you won’t let it go to waste for someone as stupid as Toji.

“The same way you don’t mean that you’re not missing out.” You answer, and Toji bites down his tongue. You look away from his face, hating the thoughts that come to your head if you stare too long. Toji should look uglier with age, but it’s the opposite.

“What do you want me to say? That I’m jealous?” He questions, and you roll your eyes. He notices that you refuse to make any sort of eye contact with his face, and he can read you like a book. He laughs. “I’m jealous. Fine.”

“You couldn’t have made it more obvious.” You respond, attempting to get out from the position, but Toji makes it impossible. “Now will you let me go?”

“Now you explain to me whatever you and that idiot have going on.” He says, and you shake your head.

“You didn’t explain whatever you and your girlfriends had going on. I take back my invitation.” You answer, and he puffs out a breath. His hand goes under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him.

“So what? You’re getting payback?” He asks, and to his surprise, you nod in response. He can’t help but chuckle, finally letting you go. You walk away as fast as possible, putting a lot of space between the two of you. “You know, if you want to give me a taste of my own medicine then you know what’ll end up happening, right?”

“No way in hell I’d end up fucking you.”

“For the record, you were the one who fucked me.” You curse yourself for whatever the hell just happened. You’re covering yourself under the bedsheets, avoiding looking at Toji who lays naked beside you.

This is the reason why you’re never alone with him. You must have one of the kids with you, or else you’ll end up doing something you regret.

He holds the last laugh, per usual.

“Are you picking up Asumi tonight or do we have the night off?” Toji asks, and you’re burning in embarrassment. You’re not listening to what he has to say– And oh my goodness, Jin! You invited Toji to talk about Jin, and here you are, laying in bed with your ex-husband.

“I think you should leave.” You murmur, and a cackle leaves Toji’s lips.

“I can leave, but that doesn’t change the fact that we just had sex.” Toji says, and you want to die inside. He pulls the bed sheet down so it uncovers your face. You look so mortified. It’s cute, really. Back then, he was the one that was cheating so it wasn’t a big deal to you. “Oh, c’mon, it’s no big deal.”

“Would you be this laid back if it was you finding me with another man?” You question, and Toji shrugs. He knows he’d be livid, but he doesn’t want to prove your point. You lightly slap his shoulder before telling him, “Yeah, right. You were just asking me if I cheated on you with Jin– Jin!”

“Oh, c’mon, baby. He’s a loser.” He tells you as he tries to bring you close to him again. You can’t be too close to him. Toji has a way of sweet talking you into things that you wouldn’t do due to common sense. He kisses your cheek before saying, “We both know he was the last thing on your mind while you screamed my name.”

“He’s so sweet, Toji.” You respond, though he doesn’t listen. He couldn’t give a shit if Jin is an angel or not. Toji doesn’t like to share. Before you can get another word out, Toji kisses your lips, stopping any trail of thoughts on your end. His lips work like a charm.

His lips move down to your neck, kissing all the spots he just went over. You’re a weak woman. You just told him to leave, yet you won’t stop him as he picks up where you left off. His tongue traces over your breasts, mouth wrapping around your nipple. A soft moan leaves your lips, body feeling so weak with the slightest touch.

“Toji–” Your breath gets caught up in your chest as you feel his hand go down in between your legs. Two fingers run through your wet folds before he applies some pressure to your clit. Whatever you were thinking a couple of minutes ago, has completely left your mind.

He pushes a finger into your pussy, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. He shouldn’t get such a reaction out of you, but your body is weak for him. It’s why you go back to him so easily. You feel his tongue lick up your breasts to your shoulder before he bites down. The pain is quickly overshadowed by pleasure when Toji pushes in another finger.

“Keep moaning my name, baby.” Toji whispers into your ear as he curves his fingers so they brush against your sweet spot. Your breath begins to get heavy, and all proper thoughts have completely left your brain.

You mindlessly moan his name, your body turning into putty with his touch. He always does this. He makes you feel euphoric so you go back to him. He knows your body so well, and you don’t hate it as much as you should.

“Right there– Oh, Toji!” You moan as you feel his thumb rub your clit. As if just a moment ago you weren’t worrying about Jin, feeling guilty about your betrayal.

“Does that feel good, baby?” Toji’s voice nearly drives you over the edge. His lips kiss back down to your breasts, tongue flicking your nipple. Your hand goes to the back of his head, pulling his hair as he bites down.

“Oh, fuck!” Escapes your lips as you feel the sweet sweet feeling build up in your body. Toji’s looking up at you as his mouth sucks on your nipple. He’s watching your face contort with pleasure, and he feels satisfied, knowing that no one will ever please you as much as he does. You’ll never react like this with anyone else.

Toji keeps sucking on your tit until your legs quiver in pleasure, and you reach your high. Toji continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, until he’s satisfied with his work. Until you’re a complete mess around him for the umpteenth time in the night.

“You’re just too cute.” Toji tells you as he unlatches from your nipple, taking his fingers out of your pussy. His lips kiss yours over and over again.

He gets on top of you, running the tip of his cock through your folds. He won’t give you a minute to calm down. Before his cock can fill you up, you stop him.

“Toji, grab a condom.” You remind him, and he laughs. His lips meet yours again before you feel his lips on your ear.

“Let me feel you raw, baby. Every inch of you.” He whispers, and you’re tempted. You bite down your lip, and Toji can see the temptation written all over your face.

“I’m not on birth control.” You tell him, and he’s unphased by the confession. That’s never stopped him before, it’s how you ended up with a daughter in the first place.

“I’ll pull out.” He promises, and you nod in response. With that, Toji slowly pushes his cock into you. You bite down your lip to not pathetically moan as his cock fills you out again. Toji feels so perfect inside of you.

Your legs wrap around his hips as Toji slowly begins to move in and out of you. He’s holding a moan in his throat. He hasn’t felt this good in a while. Your nails go to his back, digging into his skin as his thrusts pick up speed.

He’s slowly losing control as he gets lost inside of you. He needs you. He hates to admit it but he can’t be intimate with anyone without thinking of you. You’re so perfect for him. It’s good that he doesn’t have to say it out loud.

“Toji–” You moan, and Toji is glad that your voice drowns out the moan that escapes his throat. He mutters your name, as he feels your pussy clench around him. He feels the jealousy boiling over, mad that he isn’t the one with you.

“Is it good?” Toji asks you before his mouth goes to your shoulder again, biting down again when he feels your nails drag on his back. He’s leaving marks, clearly marking his territory for whenever your boyfriend gets to touch you.

“Fuck!” You’re loud, making it clear that he’s making you feel so good. He’s hitting every right spot, and his jealousy is fueling his movements. Your hand goes down to play with your clit, eyes rolling to the back of your head again.

“Does he make you feel this good?” Toji can’t help but say as he sees the look of absolute bliss written over your pretty little face. There’s no answer. You’re too caught up in your own feelings to listen to anything.

“Cum in me.” You tell him, out of the blue. He feels your cunt tighten around him as your orgasm approaches, answering all of his questions. You’re rather risky when you’re in the middle of the act. It’s not an opportunity that he’ll pass up on, not when you so prettily say, “Fill me up, Toji. Please.”

He watches you shut your eyes and loudly moan his name as you reach your climax, yet again. You’re making a mess all over him, yet again. He misses this more than you could imagine.

“Fuck.” He mutters, his breath getting caught up in his chest as his thrusts get messy. He’s picking up speed, losing control until he finally comes to a stop and his warm cum fills up your cunt.

He stays still for a moment, watching your sweaty face as you catch your breath. Fuck, you’re so beautiful. He hates looking at you like this because it’s the only thought he’ll have for the next month. He’s just going to think of you.

He pulls out and fully lays down on top of you, a weight that’s too heavy for you to carry but you support him nonetheless. Your hand goes to the back of his head, playing with his hair and kissing it ever so lovingly.

“I can stay like this forever.” His words come out muffled as Toji’s face rests on your chest.

Tonight isn’t as petty as the other nights. Sure, Toji is jealous and he’s set on reminding you that no one will ever make you feel as good as he does, but it’s more than that. It’s also a reminder to him of what he’s lost. His inability to accept a situation out of his comfort zone cost him the family that he’s so badly desired.

Every tactic to get back at you didn’t work. His inability to act like a mature adult ruined everything that he had. And he truly doubts that anything he does will change your mind. The sex hasn’t worked before, it surely won’t change anything now.

“I want us to be a family.” Toji tells you, face buried in your chest since he can’t possibly look at you now. Not while he tells you how he feels.

“Toji…” You’re not sure how to respond. You still care for Toji, and of course you have very mixed feelings for him. But you’re not sure if you can be a family. “I don’t think we can.”

“I’ve changed.” He quickly sits up, ready to get you to consider his suggestion. He wants you to completely forget about your boyfriend in the long-term. “I promise, I’m a better man. I’ll be the best husband to you, and the best father to Megumi and Asumi.”

“I don’t know, Toji. I just feel like you should’ve been that man while we were together. We dated for two years, and were married for five.” You remind him, feeling your heart swell as you recall your past. It’s not like earlier when you were angry, you’re mourning a relationship that you poured so much sweat and tears on. “It’s not like we were teenagers who couldn’t handle a pregnancy. And it was fine if you couldn’t stay with me then, but it hurt to see you come around with other women while I was adapting to everything.”

“I was trying to get back at you–” He tries to explain himself, but you can’t listen to it. You know. And you always made the mistake of sleeping with him to comfort yourself that he was only emotionally attached to you. You should’ve stood your ground then, but it’s too late now.

“For what? For being pregnant? For not ending the pregnancy?” You quickly cut him off. “As if you had no part, as if I had trapped you.”

“I’m sorry.” He tells you, and you sigh, standing up from the bed. Reality quickly settles in, and it serves as a reminder that you need to run to the pharmacy.

“Yeah.” You respond. “I’m sorry but I can’t. You’re great to our daughter, but I don’t want to test my luck with you.”

“I promise–” He continues, but before he can continue, you shush him. You hear a weird sound from outside the bedroom, and you begin to freak out– If it was an intruder you could send Toji out. He can fight booty naked and still win, but it’s not that.

“Babe, did Toji leave?!” You hear, and your eyes go wide. While Toji fights back a smirk.

You run to lock the bedroom door and you quickly point to the closet.

“Get in the closet!” You half yell, half whisper. But you know him. Toji listens to no one but himself.

“Let me greet him.” Toji stands up, but you’re in the way of the door. He won’t push you out of the way, he’s a gentleman. Which is what leads him to yell very loud and clear, “Hey, Jin! We had a nice chat!”

In the end, Toji holds the last laugh.

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monamipencil · 8 months ago

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— angel eyes | l.sm

⋆ summary; though seokmin and you are focused on building a good relationship, you both forget an integral part of it. sex. or, in which you both have sex after being together for one year.

⋆ pairings; seokmin x fem! reader ⋆ genre; smut, angst (a teeny bit), fluff, established relationship ⋆ w.c; 3.7k+ ⋆ warnings; soonyoung slander, they're both horny and didn't have sex for no reason, seokmin is a loveable idiot, insecurities, oral (m. & f. receiving), unprotected sex (she's on pills), creampie, he's shy and adorable, mentions of food. ⋆ a/n; ty to the anon that came up with this idea. man, i love writing this guy.

Seokmin takes a deep breath for the nth time and rolls down the windows. He sighs, unbuttoning his shirt a bit to rid the hotness in the car. His hand moves to turn up the air cooler, but he stops halfway, eyes falling on your figure. You’re curled up in the passenger seat, pulling his coat tighter around you.

A soft smile graces his features as he shifts focus to the road again. The events of the night slip away from his mind easily as you replace them. Seokmin has never felt happier than with you. It’s easier to breathe around you, easy to be himself around you, easy to feel loved and love you back. Everything has been so easy, and he feels content with the relationship.

In fact, Seokmin even planned on going on one knee just 3 months into the relationship. He couldn’t help it. Everything flew naturally with you. And just like that, certain things didn’t even occur to him. Too focused on being in love, you both completely forgot about an integral part of a relationship. Sex.

The hard thing (no pun intended) is this had only been brought out to the limelight when one of his friends, Soonyoung, joked about it, unknowingly after your first anniversary. “Oh? Have you both even done it?”

Soonyoung did not expect the absolute silence that followed, which affirmed his statement. The air felt too thick for him, and he could hear his heart thrumming in his ear. The awkwardness quickly dissolved when Mingyu made a mess, and everyone jumped to bully him. Since then, it lingered in his mind like a ghost, and his cheeks burnt up coyly.

He wasn’t embarrassed, per se, but shy. He was never embarrassed about the relationship at any point. Always proud that you both were taking things slow and smooth, earning comments of marriage from others frequently.

And it's not like Seokmin shied away from the topic of sex either. He is a gentleman, not an idiot. And a bit shy.

Hence, exactly why he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes the rest of the night. Soonyoungs joke shed a different light on you, and he found himself catching the details he usually missed. Your cleavage that was slightly exposed when you bent forward, the curve of your ass when he placed his hand on your waist, the softness of your hips, and your soft, pretty lips, he found himself thinking about for the rest of the night.

But you were seemingly unaffected by any of it. You were your usual self, and when he shied away from your eyes, you simply pinched his cheeks and kissed the corner of his lips to silently say, “it’s ok.”

The kiss lingers on his skin warmly. He lifts his hand to caress your cheeks and smiles when you lean into his touch. But that smile drops when the strap of your dress falls, exposing your cleavage. With your curled-up position facing him, he can see it clearly.

Seokmin shifts his gaze back to the road, sporting a blush and a raging boner.

From then on, he had tried to initiate sex more often. Keyword; tried.

He stopped by a convenience store to buy some condoms but ended up completely off the track and bought some of his childhood snacks.

“Honey, I’m home!” He announces, making his way to you with a big smile. You greet him back, “Hi baby,”

“You won’t believe what I found!” He exclaims, showing off the goods he bought, and you tilt your head, squinting at the plastic bags of snacks. “My childhood snacks! I actually went to buy-” Oh, right. He went to buy condoms.

“Mhm, what did you want to buy?” you ask, fully focusing on him with a small smile.

“I—well, uh.. I forgot.” He stutters under your gaze, and you chuckle, finding him adorable. Pressing a kiss to his lips, you take some of the snacks from his. “Come on, let’s store them.”

“Huh? Ye—yeah.”

...

At least he’s trying.

He even googles up stuff! Countless articles pop up, and Seokmin is surprised to find that multiple people actually resonated with his problem. But it also worries him, and his heart sinks reading said articles — In a sexless relationship? Instant red flag! — Sexual incompatibility and its effects on long-term relationships — 6 ways to find out that your partner hates yo-

He slams the laptop shut and buried his face in his hands. Trying to ignore the lump in his throat, he rubs his face over and over again. Tears prick his waterline, and he can’t bite back the sob that rakes from his chest. What if you do hate him?

The insecurity gnaws at his heart, and he feels disgusted with himself. Seokmin hugs the pillow for some comfort and falls asleep within minutes.

God damn Soonyoung.

You groan out loudly, removing your hands from between your thighs and catching your breath. Ever since he brought it up, you found yourself like this often. Naked, horny, and sopping wet. You sigh heavily and turn around your bed, caressing his side of the bed.

Your boyfriend is fucking hot. He’s the most gorgeous man you know. Call it an exaggeration, but it is true. He’s a piece of art. And you? Well, you’re a woman.

A woman who has fallen head over heels for him.

Getting to know him through the first months of your relationship, you came to know about his gentle nature, and as others say, he’s god-sent, something you can’t deny. He’s got it all. Personality, looks, a rare kind of optimism, and certainly a good dick. (yes. You were going through an album he shared with you, consisting of old pictures from college and school, and interestingly enough, there was a mirror selfie of his naked self, sporting a boner.)

And being honest, Seokmin is quite naïve at times, and any horny feelings were unintentionally locked up in favor of taking things slow. You didn’t want to mess up things, and you see a future with him, leading to subconsciously pushing away intimate moments.

That is until Soonyoung opened the floodgates.

You groan again. Just because Soonyoungs words elicited a positive response from you doesn’t mean the same for Seokmin. He couldn’t even look at you after that, and with much of your efforts, you brought the relationship back to normal. But things are going south again, with him seemingly avoiding you. It is hard to do so when you are actively living with someone, but he is pent-up at work lately.

With another curse, you sit up, determined to set things straight, Not by talking, but by some other means.

He’s always stressed and tense from work, and what better stress-buster there is than sex? Checking the time, you smirk. There’s more than enough time to make extra preparations as well.

...

You’re lying on the bed again with a giddy feeling as you anxiously wait for your boyfriend to return him. You bite your lip, resisting the urge to check yourself in the mirror again. You bathed, sprayed his favorite perfume, and applied a bit of gloss, wanting to keep it natural. You’re wearing sexy white lingerie, not too provocative and not too boring, it was perfect. And since you didn’t want to give your boyfriend a heart attack, you wore one of his t-shirts, covering the lingerie.

The sound of the front door opening has you sitting up in a frantic and your heart races when you hear his usual “Honey, I’m home!” you take deep breaths to ease your nerves and go outside to greet him. His back is turned to you as he removes his shoes and places them on the rack at the entrance. You hug his back, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his upper back.

“Missed you,” you pout. You missed him so fucking much. Seokmin was taking mental escapes, and it really hurt to not see his usual happy-go-lucky self.

He freezes under your touch, and you sigh. He turns in your embrace and smiles sweetly at you, murmuring a soft, “missed you too.” Before slotting his lips on yours. Your hands come up to hold his face and deepen the kiss. He hums against your lips, one of his hands move to your waist and the other to your face.

He breaks the kiss, but not before another sweet peck. But you pull him in for another by grabbing his tie. He gasps when you bite his lip, giving you the perfect chance to slip in your tongue. He pulls you flush against him, fingers digging into your waist. You caress his hair and wrap your arms around his shoulder. The feeling of his tongue on yours is ecstatic, and you drown yourself in his scent.

You walk backward, slowly leading him to the bedroom. You gasp when he lifts you, and you wrap your legs around his waist, holding onto him. He gasps for breath and walks into the bedroom. Seokmin knows where this is leading, but he hasn’t processed any of what is happening now.

He’s drunk on your scent, and the way you look at him makes him oblige to you, like a man lured by a siren. You don’t cease your kisses but reduce them to pecks and slowly move from his lips to his neck. He grunts lowly, feeling you sucking and nibbling on his sensitive skin.

He sets you down on the bed, quickly moving to undo his tie, but you pull him down to the bed and straddle his hips. You bite back a moan, feeling his hard cock graze your thigh and continue your attack on his neck. He tilts his neck, giving you space, and rests his hands on your bare thighs, slowly moving them under the tee to your—oh.

The reality of what is happening dawns upon him as his fingers graze the lazy material of your panties. Seokmin gently pulls you away, gripping your shoulders as he looks at you with a bewildered look.

“Shit. Do—do you not want this?” he watches your face morph through multiple emotions, and he notices the tears forming.

“Wait, no. No! that’s not—wait. Please?” You nod, waiting for him.

But Seokmin cannot form a word for the life of him, and he panics, uttering continuous ‘I’s and ‘uhm’s. He gives up, sighing and catching your eyes on him. Fuck. His cock twitches in his pants, and he can’t help the nasty thoughts that form in his mind.

“Just,” he breathes in, closing his eyes before finding yours again. “Fuck me, please.”

You close the gap between you two, kissing his lips tenderly. Gently pushing him back, you make him lay on the mattress without breaking the kiss. You sigh against his lips, resting your forehead on his and silently searching for reassurance in his eyes. That reassurance comes with him pushing your hips down to his.

You sit up, smiling prettily at him before removing his t-shirt. His eyes widen, and his mouth falls agape as he sits up to have a better look. You wore this for him? He rests his hand on your thighs, fixating his eyes on your breasts. You giggle, “you like it?” he nods wordlessly before switching positions.

Seokmin looks down at your figure, “So pretty.” He whispers before kissing your neck, licking the skin, and nibbling on it. He kisses further and further down till he reaches the valley of your breasts. He looks up at you, catching your eager eyes and shit. The newfound confidence fades away, and his cheeks burn up.

To add to his shyness, you lift yourself up, undoing the bra and flinging it into some corner. You guide his hands to your breasts, and your nipples harden immediately under his touch. You moan, pushing your chest out, encouraging him to do whatever he fucking wants.

But you did not expect him to right away wrap his lips on your pebbled nipples as his hand toys with the other. You whimper and moan, turning putty in his hands. His tongue circles around your nipple before he sucks on it. Your panty sticks to your core like a second skin, and you feel more arousal drip through the material.

He switches to the other one, sucking so diligently on it. Before he could go further below, you stop him. “Wait. I want to see you too.” You whisper breathlessly.

You help him undress and bite your lips, soaking in his figure. Watching as he slips off his pants, you feel yourself grow hotter. Seokmin looks like what you could only describe as a walking wet dream. Your eyes dart all over his figure. Wide shoulders and strong biceps complemented by a firm chest and a toned abdomen. And, thick thighs complementing his—oh, god.

Your eyes widen, and your mouth waters as you see the outline of his cock. He’s thick and big. Enough to pleasure you and not enough to hurt. So, in total, it’s perfect. You just want him to bruise your insides and-

Seokmin holds your chin, gently tilting your head up to make you look at him. You look at him through your eyelashes and pout lightly at him while arching your back and closing your arms to push your breasts together.

His cock twitches, leaking pearls of precum that stained his boxers. His chest fills with confidence at the way you are reacting to him. Even he cannot comprehend what he's doing. Your effect on him is that powerful.

He takes you by surprise and kneels on the floor. It's his turn to look at you through his lashes, big brown eyes staring at you with need. You lick your lips, watching him as he pulls you to the edge and spreads your legs. He kisses your heat through the lacy material and licks at the patch formed by your arousal. His nose presses against your clit, and you gasp, feeling all the bones in your body weaken as he has his way with you.

Pulling away, he slides his fingers under the hem of your panties and peels it off you, leaving you bare. It joins the pile of clothes, and he dives right in, licking and kissing your folds. “Fuck!” you arch your back and push your cunt onto his face. His nose directly presses against your clit, and you moan as he basically fucking makes out with your cunt.

You close your legs around his head and tangle your fingers with his locks, pushing him further. He sucks on the little bundle of nerves, then circles his tongue around it with occasional kitten licks. You tug at his hair harshly, and your moans fill the room along with wet sounds as he eats you out. Feeling the orgasm inching closer, you force his mouth off you.

“Need you,” you whimper, grabbing his face and kissing him. He moans into your mouth as you roughly push your tongue past his lips, tasting yourself on him. His cock twitches with need when you rake your nails down his nape and shoulders. Seokmin grows hotter, thinking about your hands pumping his cock as you suck on his tip.

You pull away to get down on your knees and hook your finger under the hem of his boxers as he stands up. You pull it down, gawking at his hard, twitching cock, and take him in your hands. His cock rests heavy in your hands, and you couldn’t care less about the cold floor biting your knees. You give the tip an experimental lick, tasting his precum while batting your eyelashes up at him.

You grin, satisfied when he throws his head back, groaning at a small lick. Without warning, you take half of his length in your mouth, eyes rolling back at the feeling of it resting heavily on your tongue. He tangles his fingers in your hair, looking down at you while he moans a string of curses. Wrapping your fingers around his base, you pump his length and swirl your tongue around his tip.

You bounce your head up and down his cock, getting used to his girth. You pull away momentarily, and a string of saliva connects your lips to his tip. Licking your lips, you maintain eye contact with him and wrap your lips around his length once again. But this time, you take his full length in your mouth, gagging and enjoying how he fills you up. You hold his thighs for support, sliding his cock out fully before taking him again.

You do this a couple of times and feel him twitching in your mouth. Seokmin pulls your mouth off his cock, biting his lips in vain to prevent moaning at the erotic sight before him. You know how to put that mouth to use. A few more seconds and he would’ve cummed down your throat.

With a huff, he pulls you up and backs you to the bed. You lay on the soft sheet, letting him take control. You gasp when he teases his tip on your folds, coating it in your arousal, and he moans, feeling your warmth and wetness. His tip nears your entrance, stretching past your folds, and then—

“Shit. Condoms,” he curses, eyes snapping towards yours in worry. You chuckle, finding your dumbfounded boyfriend adorable. “I’m on pills. Don’t worry.”

His eyebrows crease, “Since when?”

“Since that dinner. Couldn’t stop thinking about you and your cock.”

A light blush settles on his cheek, and he smiles at you, shaking his head. He pushes his hair back to calm himself down, and you sigh, finding him hot. There he sits on his knees, between your legs, and a coat of sweat glistens on his skin. He looks ethereal and hot. Yeah, you’d let him rearrange your insides.

He chuckles, finding your lusty eyes ogling him. “You’re making me shy!”

And you hook your arms under your knees, pulling your legs to your chest. You bite your lips with a sultry look on your face, and he groans, watching your pussy glisten under the light. He readjusts himself, feeling your folds with his tip again.

You gasp and moan as his length fills you up, stretching your walls. You haven’t had sex in over a year, and you’re feeling the effects now. Tears well up, and you close your eyes, attempting to adjust to his length. Seokmin leans down, kissing your tears away, and you open your eyes, finding his chocolate eyes staring at you with love and lust.

“Shit. Is it too much? I can pull out, baby.” He softly says, voice laced with concern. You shake your head, whispering a ‘no.’ You lift your head up, slotting your lips against his.

You hook your hands around his nape, deepening the kiss. He holds your waist as you wrap your legs around his hips, holding still till you adjust. Your gummy walls grip his length tightly, making his head spin. After a few moments, you pull away from the kiss, taking a deep breath and nodding at him.

Seokmin pulls out slowly, leaving only his tip in before slowly sinking back. You both moan in unison when he fills up again. He does this a few times before settling into a comfortable and pleasurable pace. You moan with each snap of his hips towards yours, eyes rolling back in pleasure. His cock kisses your walls in all the right places.

His moans mix with yours in the bedroom, along with the sounds of your hips meeting. Your cunt squeezes his cock, and the wetness allows him to easily slide his cock in and out of you. The feeling of your arousal coating his cock is sinful, and your naked skin on his makes warmth pool in his chest.

He catches your lips in a sensual kiss, slowing down his pace. His tongue slides against yours easily, wandering your mouth. Your arousal drips down, sticking to his balls with each thrust. You bite his lower lip, making him whine into your mouth, and fasten his pace a bit. You slide your hand between your bodies to stimulate your clit, but he beats you to it.

Long, slender fingers rub at your clit, drawing in your orgasm. You buck your hips up, desperately meeting his cock and fingers. Seokmin moans when you clench his cock, speeding up his climax. You whine, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach, and he feels his cock twitch as well. His pace stutters, turning erratic as he kisses you messily.

With a moan of his name, you cum on his cock and hold onto him for dear life. He follows suit, hips stuttering to a halt as ribbons of cum paint your walls. He rests his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath. You sigh in bliss, his warm cum filling you up to the brim.

He pulls out, falling to your side and instantly pulling you into a cuddle. His cum oozes out, and it should feel dirty, but it doesn’t. Instead, it feels like home, warm and cozy, with his cum filling up your cunt.

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear, and you giggle, feeling his breath tickle you. You can’t see him, but you feel his smile. “I love you too, baby.” And you giggle again when he kisses your neck, accidentally tickling you again.

His strong hands wrap around you comfortingly. And a serene silence envelops you both. Only for a while, though, “should I order pizzas?”

You heartily laugh, slapping his chest lightly, and peck his cheeks. He adorably grins at you, pulling you closer. You rest your head on his chest, hugging him with a lazy smile.

“Was that ok?” he voices out.

“Hmm, the pizza?”

His chest reverberates as he chuckles, “No—I mean yes. That’s also there but…”

“Was the … sex good?” he finishes, and you look up, meeting his curious eyes tinged with insecurity. But you smile brightly at him, nodding, “The best I’ve ever had.” His eyes widen before he squints at you playfully.

“Don’t lie, it was that good?”

“Yep. 10/10. Best cock in the world.”

You both laugh, and he adds, “your...” He coughs, “uhhh...” He gives up, gesturing towards your heat and nodding in acknowledgment. Your body shakes with laughter, and he hides his face shyly. You remove his hands and kiss his face, hugging him closer. Silence settles again, and you feel content in his arms before he speaks again.

“Also, pizza ok?”

tags; @seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia @dokyeomkyeom @bangantokchy @jespecially

@asyre @armycarat2612 @bewoyewo @pan-de-seungcheol

(send an ask to be added on the taglist!)

#seokmin #seokmin smut #svthub #svt smut #dokyeom #dokyeom smut #svt #lee seokmin #seventeen smut #seokmin x reader

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loving-barnes · 6 months ago

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LOGAN HOWLETT - BLAST FROM THE PAST

A/N: And something new, that I've been working on for some time. The ending sucks, but I tried. Maybe it won't make sense, I don't know. It was supposed to be spicy, but I didn't know what to put there.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: angst, some fluff

My stories are written for mature audiences - 18+!

Words: 5400+

Important note: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine (which means he's tall as fuck!)

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - BLAST FROM THE PAST

Logan needed some time off. Was it from the students? The missions? He didn’t know. But he longed for some peace. A weekend away would be perfect. A week would mean the world to him. And yet, he’d never asked for that. Deep down, he liked teaching the students. He enjoyed the missions even when he was grumpy about it.

He leaned against a pillar at the entrance, inhaling the cold wet air. The had been pouring for hours. It was a matter of minutes before the first thunder would start. With midnight slowly approaching, the scenario in front of him was very peaceful. It was exactly what he needed, even if it was only for a few moments.

Logan took a cigar out of his pocket, lighting it up. No one would bitch about it now. When he took the first drag, his mind wandered to Jean. He would think about her here and there, always wondering… what if? What if she chose him? What if she never dates Scott? But it wasn’t like that. It sucked she chose Scott. It’s been a long time now. It was time to get over it for good.

Out of nowhere, he scoffed. There was only one person who would stupidly comment on it. Logan perfectly pictured his best friend beating his ass for acting like a fool. Like a love-sick puppy, she’d say. And would laugh, even now.

Logan frowned. Now, his mind was preoccupied with the images of his best friend - Y/N. They met over two years ago. Or was it longer than that? It was at a time when he was cage-fighting for money. He wasn’t a teacher or an X-man. He barely knew who he was. He was blessed with that woman, to be honest. She sneaked into his life and nestled somewhere in his heart.

He chuckled when he remembered how she would mock him. They had a similar sense of humour. She was a powerful mutant, also on the run from everything and everyone - even herself. Life with her by his side was easier. Their paths separated a few times, only to be brought together by some miracle.

But then Rogue came and his life changed. The last time he met her was, again, a total coincidence. Because that’s what the universe had decided to do. Logan was on a mission with Storm, looking for more mutant children to be saved and protected. Turned out, Y/N was on her own mission, to help them. The meeting was short, amusing and before he blinked, she was gone.

He kept wondering what his life would be if they stayed together. What if she was here with him? What if he stayed by her side and never set foot here?

He took another drag, the taste lingering in his mouth a bit more than before. Logan’s eyes scanned the surroundings. The driveway to the school was empty. He didn’t sense any danger. And yet, he frowned. Something seemed off.

There was a scent lingering in the air. It was distant, mutant-like. Taking another sniff, Logan tilted his head. Odd. The scent was familiar. Too familiar. With every breath he took, he was sure he knew that person. That’s when his eyes captured a figure limping through the rain forward. He straightened his back, eyes wide. Could it be…?

“Am I delirious?” he heard the well-known feminine voice. “Is that the grumpiest man who ever lived?”

Logan chuckled. Of course, she would greet him with words like that. “Y/N?” What the hell was she doing there? “Holy shit, is that you? How the fuck?” he asked in disbelief.

“That’s how you greet your good friend?” she asked, chuckling. Y/N came closer, trying to keep her weight off her right foot. “I was expecting confetti and champagne.”

The cigarette was immediately abandoned. Logan walked into the rain. It took him five large steps to approach her. His big arms wrapped around her body in a tight hug. “This has to be enough.”

“A warm hug from you? Worth it,” she laughed as she pressed her drenched clothes against his dry one. She rested her head against his hard chest, smiling. “But seriously, what the fuck are you doing here? Of all places?”

Logan looked at her, eyes travelling from head to toe. She was a mess. “I think I should be asking that question, don’t ya think? Come on, let’s get your ass inside before you catch fucking pneumonia or something.” Before she could reply, Logan dragged her inside the school, away from the cold rain.

“Holy shit,” he heard her gasp when Y/N stepped inside. She kept twisting and turning on her heel, scanning the interior. Her mouth was open while trying to take it all in. “Don’t tell me you fucking live here, Howlett,” and she punched him in the bicep. “Have you won the lottery?”

He held a chuckle and shook his head. “Still got that mouth on you,” he stated.

“And yet, you still love me,” she had gifted him with a bright smile. That quickly turned into a scowl and a gasp.

Logan noticed before she was limping. Now, under the light, he saw her swollen ankle. “What happened there, kid?” he pointed at her foot.

She looked down, eyeing her injury. “Shit,” she mumbled. “On my way here, I slipped on a fucking mud and twisted it. Otherwise, I am fine.”

He could smell the lie on her, but for now, he decided to ignore it. She would sing eventually. Logan knew her damn well. Fuck, he couldn’t believe she was standing before him, here at school. Either this was the universe bringing them together or there were more lies behind those gorgeous eyes.

Her feet moved. She kept turning around, looking at the interior. “Fancy. So, this is where you live now? What is this a school?” She stopped and turned back to him. “Don’t tell me you are a teacher.”

Logan watched as she wrapped her arms around her body. The wet clothes were hugging her figure in the right places. “I know it’s hard to believe but that’s what I am now.”

She chuckled. “From a fighting cage to becoming a teacher. That’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming. What do you teach?”

“Ethics,” he said seriously. When he noticed how she raised a brow, he continued. “Believe it or not, I’m very good at it. I’ve got a way with words. You’d be surprised.”

“Did you lose your mind again while we were separated?” she asked. “There’s no fucking way you, of all people, are teaching ethics. That’s… unethical.”

That’s when he started to laugh. He got her good. “Nah, I’m kidding, kid. I teach combat training or PE and history.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, exhaling loudly. “Fuck, you got me there.” Her whole body shivered. “S-so, how the hell did you end up being a teacher? Last time, we didn’t have that much time to chit-chat. You were saving the same kids as I was.”

Logan’s eyes couldn’t watch how he kept shaking like an abandoned puppy. With long strides, he went to another room and reappeared with a fluffy blanket. He threw at her. “Here.”

“Thanks,” she smiled. She wrapped around her, sighing contentedly.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Why the fuck are you here? And don’t give me some shitty story. Tell me the truth,” he said strictly. He crossed his big arms over his chest, flexing them.

Y/N brushed the wet strands of hair from her face, her lips shivering. “I was sent here,” she said simply. Logan opened his mouth to demand more. “This might sound crazy, although, in our world, nothing is fucking crazy. Someone contacted me - no, that’s not the correct word. Someone connected with my mind. A telepath, a powerful one. He, I remember it was a male voice, helped me come here.”

Logan shook his head in disbelief. “Charles,” he mumbled. “He’s the founder and headmaster of this school. He’s the one who contacted you.”

“Well, shit,” she was surprised. “I was not expecting that. Does he know we know each other?” Y/N sneezed loudly. And then again. “The better question is, why me?”

Logan wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you some dry clothes.”

“Is it okay that I’m here? It’s the middle of the night,” she had to ask while walking up the stairs, following her friend.

He snorted. “Don’t play timid now, Y/L/N. This shit doesn’t work on me.”

One simple glare and he had to laugh. “Damn, you know me too well. But seriously, everyone is asleep and I feel like an intruder.”

Logan took her to his room and closed the doors silently behind them. “You are a fucking annoying intruder, but I don’t mind, darlin’,” he grinned at her. “Welcome to my room, don’t fucking sit anywhere with those damn wet clothes.” Logan moved to his closet and took out a shirt with long sleeves and some boxers he never wore. Again, he threw the clothes at her like he did with the blanket, making her curse.

“I’ll be swimming in those clothes.”

“Shut up and be grateful.” Logan pointed at the second door in the room. “That’s my bathroom - change, shower, do whatever you need.”

“Careful with your words, mon ami,” she winked at him. “Thank you, Lo’. I appreciate this.”

“Save it, kid.”

Y/N showed him her tongue on the way to the bathroom, grimacing before closing the door behind her.

Alone in Logan’s bathroom, she smiled. Damn, she missed him. He was the only man who treated her like an equal. They shared the same humour, the same views. He was a strong mutant and so was she.

Sighing, Y/N undressed from the wet clothes, hanging them on a heating rack to dry. Her ankle still hurt. She caught her reflection in the mirror. Bruises covered her body. Some of them still hurt like a bitch.

One quick shower later, she felt better, warmer. Although, she smelled like him. It made her smile. She had to use his shampoo because there wasn’t anything else. In the end, it was better than nothing. As predicted, his clothes were too big for her. One of her shoulders was exposed, the boxers were low on her hips.

Logan was still in his bedroom when she walked out. First, their eyes locked. Then, his eyes travelled south, scanning her figure and his clothes hanging on her. Has she ever worn his clothes before? He dryly gulped. “Yeah, you are swimming in my clothes,” he chuckled. “Now, get in the bed.”

“Woah, first buy me dinner you ass,” she laughed. “I’m not that easy.”

One glare and she was laughing even more. “Of course, you are the one with a rotten brain,” he commented. “One night we’ll share. We will figure out the rest tomorrow after you meet the rest of the X-men.”

“I mean, we shared a bed once. It was during a winter, a shitty snowstorm got in our way,” Y/N grinned like a winner. “I was surprised when you cuddled me.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You were cold and asked me to help you,” he reminded her.

“But you decided to do it,” Y/N grinned at him. “If you’d like, you can cuddle me tonight, too. I wouldn’t mind.”

“Damn you, woman,” he growled. “Just get in the damn bed and shut your noisy, annoying mouth.”

“Again, you love me,” she winked at him and climbed into the bed, taking the right side. Luckily, the bed was big enough to accommodate them together. “So comfortable,” she sighed contentedly. “You are treated well here.”

“Benefit of being a teacher here,” he chuckled. “Sleep, Y/N. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Her eyes were heavy. She didn’t have the energy to give him some witty comment. She simply turned her back to him, cuddling to her pillow, drifting into the realm of dreams.

At least for a few hours before she was up again, surrounded by darkness and gentle snoring. She turned her head to see the silhouette of her friend deep asleep. Sighing, she slowly left the bed, legs bringing her to a big window. The rain never stopped. It kept pouring on the grass, the wind swaying the trees. Her whole body ached. She had a couple of rough months behind her. Now, she was safe.

Y/N didn’t slip on the mud. She was on the run for several days in searing pain. Her wrists remembered the cuffs around them, not letting her move. What mattered now was the fact that the dark times were gone and she was in a place where she had someone she knew well.

Logan shifted in the bed, turning on the other side, still asleep. At least he was able to do that now. Maybe his mind was in a better place, healed. He deserved it.

Y/N rested her elbows on a wooden window sill and put her head on her hands. Watching the rain was better than sleeping at this point. It soothed her, washed away the pain, the distress.

In the morning, when she came out of the bathroom, Logan was sitting on his bed, frowning. “Already grumpy?” Y/N asked with a teasing smile.

“You didn’t sleep,” he glared at her.

“I did,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “Not the whole night, but at least a few hours.” There was no point in lying.

He shook his head. “Staring at the rain is better than resting in the bed?” he asked. “I knew damn well you were standing at the window for hours.”

“You are a damn spy,” she said dramatically. “Fine, I was up. So what?”

“You should have rested, kid.”

“If you knew I was up, why didn’t you say anything?” she challenged.

A sigh escaped his lips. “You are a pain in the ass, ya know that?” He huffed. “I figured you needed a moment to collect your thoughts, as you like to say.”

Without a word, he stood up and locked himself in the bathroom. Y/N rolled her eyes. Grumpy Logan in the morning was a blessing. She fixed the clothes on her body, sighing at how loose everything was. Her own clothes didn’t smell good. They needed a good wash.

Her ears registered noise coming out of the hallway. The voices shaded into each other. The students were up and ready to start their day. At first, she thought there’d be only a few kids. By the sounds of it, there had to be way more. How many kids did they save?

Once Logan was out, he was already in his jeans, just putting on his white tank top. It was only a second but Y/N got a perfect glimpse of his hard abs and a path of hair. Her eyes moved up to his face.

“I’m taking you to Charles,” he said. “Since he was the one who brought you here.”

Y/N showed him a thumbs-up. A second later, she stopped. “Wait, I can’t meet him like this,” she pointed at how she was dressed. Logan's clothes were too big on her body. Also, it would look… weird. What would the people around here think?

“Give me a minute,” he said and left the room, leaving Y/N standing there alone.

Logan came to a different room, knocking on it. It took ten seconds for the person to open the door. His eyes met with Rogue’s. “It’s too early to give me any pep-talk you have in mind,” she said, annoyed.

“I need a favour,” he said.

That piqued Rogue’s interest. “Alright, what is it?”

“I need to borrow some female clothes,” he said, not looking at her. He wanted to avoid that teasing look on her face. “Before you start asking shit… I have a friend here and she needs some clothes to wear.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, grinning. “A friend you say? Is it really just a friend, Logan? What happened to her clothes? Are they torn?”

He glared at her. “Will you help me out or nah?”

Rogue bit her lower lip, trying her best not to laugh at him. “What is her sizing?” she asked.

Logan described her body type. He didn’t give her too many details. Just enough so Rogue had a picture of her. “I think I have something here. Can I meet her?” she asked.

“You are nosy, ya know that?” he tilted his head, patience wearing off slowly. “You’ll meet her later, okay? I have to take her to Charles. He was the one who brought her here.”

“Huh?” she was confused. “Hold on,” and hid in her room where she tried to find some clothes that would fit Logan’s mysterious female friend. Once she handed him the clothes, she put a teasing smile on her face. “I wanna meet her.”

“Later, kid,” he waved a hand. He went back to his room.

When he entered, Y/N was sitting on the bed, looking at her nails. He threw the clothes at her. They smacked her face. “Here, put this on.”

She raised a brow. “Whose clothes are these? Please don’t tell me your girlfriend’s, that would be fucking weird.”

“They belong to a student I saved some time ago,” he explained. “She’s a good kid. She also has a big mouth. You two would be great friends,” he chuckled.

Y/N made a face. “Kinda hard to believe, but okay.” Taking her clothes, she went back to the bathroom to change. To her surprise, the clothes fit her nicely. They were simple sweatpants and a white T-shirt. Once she got out, Logan’s bed was perfectly made.

He noticed some bruises on her arms but decided not to comment on it yet.

Logan took Y/N through the vast hallways of the school to the lower levels where Charles had an office. Some students eyed Y/N from head to toe, not knowing what to think of her. There were whispers here and there, pointing their fingers in her direction.

“I feel like I am a zoo animal,” she snarled a little. “I’m surprised they are not taking pictures of me, yet.”

“Give it time,” he teased.

“Fucking great.”

Logan knocked on the office door three times before entering. For the first time, Y/N was able to see the man who connected with her mind. He was old, bald, in a wheelchair and dressed fancy.

“Y/N,” he said her name with a smile. “I’m glad you are here. Please, sit.” Then, he turned his eyes to Logan. “Thank you for bringing her. I’ll speak with her alone.”

The Wolverine didn’t comment on it. He gave him a nod, patter Y/N’s shoulder and left the Professor and his friend alone in the office to talk.

Typical Professor. He’d keep his secrets to himself until things when to shit. Logan hoped he’d give him an explanation. And if not him, he would hear it from Y/N.

Damn that woman. They had known each other for many years before he became a teacher at this school. They were close, sometimes wondering how close they would be if… He shook his head. It was useless to think that way. Yes, she was fucking sexy and beautiful. He would be lying if he said the opposite. It made him question things back in the day. Even now, when he saw her face this morning, there was a question lingering in his mind. What if..?

“Where is she?” Rogue startled him. “I wanna see her.”

“Jeez, kid. You are acting as if you want to catch Santa during Christmas,” he said.

Logan and Rogue walked into the kitchen. He made himself a coffee while Rogue got cereal and milk. She had that teasing smile on her lips, waiting for something juicy from Logan.

“I’m curious. Is she pretty?”

He almost choked on the coffee. “Shit,” he mumbled and coughed.

“Well, she must be if you are acting this way,” Rogue smiled.

“What do you mean, kid? I act normally. The damn coffee went down the wrong pipe,” he glared at her and put the mug on the counter.

“Whatever you say, Logan,” she giggled. “How come you never told me about this friend of yours? Or shall I call her a crush?”

“Have you ever told me about your friends?” he asked back. “And what am I, five?”

She put a full spoon of cereal in her mouth and shrugged. “This is different,” she said after swallowing the food. “I can confidently say I know you well, Logan. But since this morning, there is this different energy coming out of you.”

“How is this different?”

“It’s you we are talking about,” she said. “The grumpy guy who doesn’t let anyone in. And suddenly, there is a woman that is supposedly his friend. Ask anyone, they’d say it’s… unusual.”

His ears registered the sound of wheels and Y/N’s gentle voice approaching. He took a deep breath, preparing for their entrance. It seemed Charles had decided to give her a tour. When they entered the kitchen, Logan noticed how Rogue’s eyes widened when her eyes captured Y/N at the door in her clothes.

And they both smiled at each other. Fuck. Rogue and Y/N would be a deadly combo for him. He would never hear the end of their nagging and teasing.

“You’ve met Logan,” Charles chuckled. “This is Rogue. Logan saved her some time ago.”

“Hi!” Rogue said cheerfully, too cheerfully for Logan’s liking. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“You will meet more people as the day goes by,” Charles said to Y/N. “Some of them are on a mission in Salt Lake City. They should be back in a day or two.”

Logan turned his gaze to Y/N. “So, you are staying?” It sounded rougher than he intended to. He would be glad to have her here, with him. “Wow, wasn’t expecting that,” he added.

She shrugged. “I think it’s time to lay low. My life has been hectic for years. Now, I got the opportunity to have some sort of stability - in a matter of speaking.”

“If you excuse me,” Charles said politely, “I have a class to teach. We will speak together more this afternoon. We’ll arrange a room for you and some clothes since you don’t own anything.”

“Thank you.”

. . .

Y/N sat alone in a room they assigned her. Some would say it was small. To her, it was luxurious and vast. She never had a room like this. As a kid, she would share the sleeping space with other kids. And then, she would travel from place to place, sleeping wherever it was possible - benches, couches or in a van when she was with Logan.

She thought about the time she would spend time with him. How they would share his van. That man had a kind heart. He wouldn’t let her freeze to death when he found her. And since that day, their friendship blossomed.

That man. Shit. Was there a time when she imagined his hard muscles under her hands? Yes, many times. When they were together, she could never cross that line. It was rare to have a good friend in her life who was willing to take her in like a stray. She wouldn’t want to screw that up.

A knock brought her back to reality. Rogue came inside her room with a gentle smile tugging at her lips. “Hi,” she greeted Y/N.

“Hi, uh, Rogue, right?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Is it okay to come?”

“Sure,” Y/N pointed at the spot next to her on the bed. “So, you are the girl who gave me some clothes to wear,” she tugged at her sweatpants. “Thanks. That was very kind.”

Rogue kept the smile. “I know what’s like not to have any clothes. They gave me everything when I got here. I have a bed to sleep on, food to eat and friends.”

Y/N nodded. “That’s good.”

“So, what’s up with you and Logan?” she asked boldly, making Y/N snap her head up and look at the girl.

“We are friends,” Y/N said, unsure what Rogue meant by it. “We’ve known each other for years. We separated a while back and now, the universe has brought us together,” she explained.

“Universe,” Rogue grinned.

The door opened without knocking. Logan walked in as if it was his room. “Sure, come on in, this room is a public space,” Y/N commented with a smirk plastered on her lips. “What do you want?”

Logan glared at Rogue. “What are you doing here, kid?”

“Getting to know your friend,” she smiled at him. It was followed by a wink.

“Don’t you have classes?” he questioned.

Rogue huffed, annoyed by him. “We’ll talk later,” she waved a hand as she was leaving Y/N’s new room. She gave Logan one last teasing look before she left.

“You are such a dad,” Y/N laughed at Logan. “Strict hand, not taking any shit.”

Logan poked her forehead, making her laugh. “Have you hurt your head, kid? You are talking shit.”

“What? You don’t like being called a dad? How about ‘daddy’?” she put a wicked smile on her face, waiting for his reaction. When his eyes widened and his nostrils flared, she started to laugh at him.

Logan shook his head. “I think it’s time for you to start singing, Y/N.” His voice got deeper. The teasing was gone. He demanded answers. “I talked to Charles. He didn’t want to tell me what happened to you, or the exact reason why he found you. In his words, you should be the one to tell me.”

Y/N eyes lowered. She knew it would eventually come. Her eyes trailed over the few bruises that were on her arms. “I was locked in a mutant testing lab,” she whispered.

“What?!” Logan’s voice raised. “How long?”

She rolled her eyes from one side to the other, counting the days. “Over a month,” she said. “I got information that they had some kids locked there and I wanted to get them out. My goal was to take them to an underground network that helped mutants. Unfortunately, they captured me and locked me with them.”

“Y/N,” he sighed.

“Don’t,” she glared at him. “You weren’t there. You don’t know what happened. Don’t be over-protective when you were here, living your life.”

She was right. He wasn’t with her. He didn’t have the right to act this way. “What happened there?” Logan’s voice sounded more neutral. The anger behind it subsided.

Y/N started to play with her fingers, picking up dirt under her nails that wasn’t there. “They experimented on us, abused us,” she shrugged. “I wanted to get us away, but I only made it worse.”

“What happened?” he demanded this time.

“I blew up the whole place!” she raised her voice. Her eyes met his. “Many people died. I wanted to get them out and I… I killed them, Logan.”

Y/N’s mutation was a dangerous one. She was able to blow things up. Because she lacked control over the mutation, no wonder things went quickly south. “I didn’t want to,” her voice broke. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Holy shit,” Logan shook his head. “How many dead?”

“I don’t know. I panicked and ran away,” she admitted. “Everything was on fire.”

There was silence between them. Logan wasn’t commenting on it. Y/N didn’t want to talk more about it. It was too fresh. The wounds didn’t heal. She killed many people, including mutants.

“So that ankle,” he pointed at her leg. She wasn’t limping that day, but it was still a little swollen. “You didn’t slip on a mud.”

She shook her head. “No. All injuries were from…” her voice faded into nothing. Y/N’s head lowered, not daring to look at Logan. She tried to hold back the tears and not to cry. She felt ashamed of lying, not telling the truth to the one man she kind of trusted. “Can’t believe the Professor wants me here after everything.”

“This is the problem,” Logan started to talk. “You never told me when something went to shit. Whether it was you being attacked as it happened at the Canadian borders when we travelling together. Or when your powers got out of control. Now, it’s still the same. Here I thought you could trust me.”

“I’m sorry,” she jumped in. “I didn’t want to seem like a damsel in distress or a weak mutant that doesn’t have things under control. Plus, it’s not something I wanted to brag about when there were casualties.”

“And again, you didn’t have your mutation under control,” he spat. Logan was upset and he didn’t understand why. “Why do I have a feeling that you cannot trust me? After all those years? You think I’d judge you? Come on, princess.”

“I trust you.”

“Do you?”

She opened her mouth to argue. Logan stopped her by raising a hand. “Don’t even try.”

The anger mixed with dread. Logan cared for her more than he ever realised. However, he was upset that she didn’t trust him enough to tell him what happened. She had to lie just to present herself as strong and brave.

He went out to smoke and calm down. Why couldn’t she admit that she fucked up and was injured? Stubborn woman.

. . .

Logan and Y/N didn’t talk for the rest of the day. She stayed in her room, hidden from the world while he dealt with students. Also, he wanted to know more information from Charles. He gave him a better glimpse into what happened. It seemed some mutants got away before Y/N blew up the whole building.

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me anything about it,” he said.

Charles sighed. “I understand you two share some past. Your paths separated for some time and things changed. You can’t blame her for not trusting you enough.”

Logan frowned at him. “You know awfully a lot, Charles.”

“Sometimes your mind is too loud, opened for telepaths like an invitation to an open house,” he said with a chuckle.

“Then don’t snoop around,” said Logan.

Charles took a deep breath, ready to speak, when his face went stoic. He knew something was off. “She wants to leave,” he announced. “Rogue is talking to her at the entrance door.”

“Fuck,” Logan gritted his teeth. His legs took him out of the office and straight to the front door where Rogue was talking to Y/N. The woman had new clothes on her and a backpack. She was serious about leaving.

“Stay,” Rogue said. “You need to talk it out.”

Y/N shook her head. “I have to leave. Too many ghosts in the closet,” she shrugged.

“You’re not goin anywhere,” Logan lurched forward. “You just came here and I ain’t letting you go that easily.”

“Logan,” she sighed.

“No,” he shook his head. He grabbed her by the forearm and dragged her back inside the mansion. “I get that you re upset about what happened, but we can talk about it and deal with it together.”

“Logan, it’s not that easy, I killed all those people…”

He huffed. “Y/N, stop it, okay,” he shook his head. “We can help you here. We can make you understand your mutation better. You will train with us, how to use it, how to control it. What do you say?” It seemed as if he was pleading now.

She opened her mouth, ready to ramble some more. Logan reached for her, grabbing her by the neck and pressing her body close to his. His lips found hers in a kiss that took her breath away.

Rogue’s mouth almost dropped to the floor, but she was glad that Logan made the step. She knew that man liked Y/N. Because she didn’t want to ruin the moment, she slowly stepped away from them, giving them space.

When Y/N slowly pushed away from Logan, she was speechless. Like a fish on a dry land, her mouth was opening and closing without making a sound.

“Stay,” Logan said softly. “Come on, princess. Let me help you, give you a safe place.”

She bit her lower lip. “Will it come with more kisses from you?”

He snorted. “As much as you want, darling.”

#Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x female reader #Logan Howlett #Logan Howlett fanfiction #Wolverine x reader #Wolverine x female reader #Wolverine fanfiction #Marvel fanfiction #x-men fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

onlyswan · 1 year ago

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summary: in which you drive jungkook mad but you make his heart beat.

idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / fluff, suggestive, a pinch of angst / word count: 5k

content/warnings: tried sumn different so this is mainly from jungkook’s pov :D !! drummer!oc ur so cool & i’m stealing u from ur bf 🏃— mention of a 10 yr age gap between jk & a guy who likes oc (he’s hella pissed off) ; mentions of (car) s^x ; allusion to a bl^wj^b ; jk just got home from tour & oc is tipsy, needy, & dramatic as hell T_T ; oc /briefly/ touches jk while he’s driving & he /nearly/ loses his shit & crashes the car (he doesn’t) (i’m kidding) + to the anon who wanted to jk’s cheek scar to get a kissy here u go 🥺

> in which masterlist!

note: oc is so shot glass of tears coded especially in this… i’m glad i’m posting this after golden came out just so i could say it 🥰 this takes place after this drabble sooo the end of oct 2018 <3 if u’ve read the prev drabble too, this was when jk said those exact words in the past 🥺 wrote this in the middle of hell week so i was half out of my mind :'] as always feedback & reblogs rrr always appreciated !! 🥺

—

jungkook loves the sound of rain— the gentle knocks on every surface of the earth has always been a lullaby even during daylight.

tonight is a different story, however. it is defeaning, terrifying even. he can barely see what is infront of him, spare the occasional headlights blazing across the slippery roads. his umbrella is being stolen away by the harsh gusts of wind and the mud stains on his sneakers are well-hidden by the plain black.

and yes, he is tired; and yes, this is hard, but that is the end of it.

you’re exactly where you told him you’d wait, far behind the edge of the roof where the rainwater falls from and splashes on the ground. you stand out in his blue oversized shirt, one that he purposely left behind in your closet so he could have something else to wear when he sleeps over.

you’re too busy typing on your phone to see him crossing the parking lot; he feels his very own vibrate in the pocket of his sweatpants. however, his giddy smile fades when a man exits through the entrance door and approaches you with a red umbrella. his strides become slightly hurried then, as he watches you politely decline it with that heart-fluttering smile of yours everybody adores.

“oh no, really, i’m fine. you might need it later! my boyfriend is already coming to pick me up anyway.”

jungkook acts cool. he tucks his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants, tries to make himself appear bigger because he realizes that he would be inches shorter than the man if not for the platforms of his shoes.

“____, baby!”

upon hearing your name coming from the lips of your lover, your face lights up even brighter.

“jungkook!”

you greet him with an embrace, jumping into his arms before he can properly set down his umbrella on the ground.

“yah, yah-yah! be careful!” he chuckles as he wraps his arms around your waist to catch you, peering down to check how high your boots are for you to be running and jumping around freely.

“hey, i’m going back inside- there’s more customers coming in. make it home safe, alright?”

the stranger tries to catch your attention, and jungkook’s protectiveness swiftly kicks in when he lays a hand on you and slides it down to your lower back. your boyfriend turns you away from the unprompted touch by pulling your body closer to his side, and he is unable to control how his eyebrows knit together in annoyance.

he wasn’t planning on giving much thought to the presence of a man around you. he knows better than that. but he has never heard about this one, which raises the question of who the fuck is he to freely touch you like that?

“oh- alright! thank you, jun!”

“you better take care of ____, man. it’s dangerous around here during this time.”

he receives a rather heavy and condescending pat on the shoulder, and so, with his annoyance bubbling worse, he wears a passive aggressive smile on his face.

“yeah, of course i am,”

jun’s nostrils flare as he witnesses you sneakily slide your hands underneath jungkook’s hoodie in search of warmth.

“i’m here now, so there’s no need to worry about my girlfriend anymore.”

he nods, then forces himself to smile. “that’s good, then.”

“yeah, thanks. we’re leaving.”

“oh, okay. have a nice night!”

“you too,”

he turns on his heel and returns inside the busy establishment— but not before jungkook made sure that he saw the bruises on his knuckles that he got from his boxing sessions.

his jaw clenches as he glares at the door.

is he being petty? sure, to hell with that. he doesn’t care. he’s always been one to trust his gut, and he has a bad feeling.

he is met by a love-drunk smile when his undivided attention is at last given to you, in the form of fond eyes and affectionate strokes of your hair.

“who was that?”

“eh, new bartender,” you shrug with disinterest. “hm, i think he’s 31…? he’s nice but he keeps talking about wrestling.”

he raises an eyebrow at the mention of his age, while your lips form a sad pout.

what the hell? he thought he would be 25 at most.

“the tv has been in the same channel for the past two weeks because of him. it’s all i’ve been seeing! i don’t like it-” you whine in distress, quite frankly, a little traumatized.

an endeared smile is coaxed out of him at your adorableness, how your speech is a little slurred and how you’re looking at him like you’re begging him to do something about it.

“makes me nervous,”

his dominant hand closes into a fist.

if he only he had known. should’ve fucking punched the guy, give him a taste of what he seems to be a huge fan of.

“let’s watch something calming when we get home, how about that?”

you nod your head, eyes that twinkle with eagerness fluttering shut when he leans in for a much awaited kiss. how sweet, he feels a little more alive than before. he can smell it, even taste it— the peach margarita you started sipping on before the band’s first set. concocted by jun, he presumes. he pulls away with a small smile, licking his lips for the traces of you that clung to him.

out of the blue, you burst into a fit of giggles, weak knees buckling as your weight crashes on him.

“i missed you!”

“babe, are you seriously drunk?” he chuckles, holding you with a secure grip around your torso.

“maaaybe tipsy…? i was pretending not to be.” you stand on your tip-toes to nuzzle your face against his neck, mumbling sheepishly. “only trust you.”

—

“i should’ve accepted the umbrella.” you grunt childishly, body going limp on jungkook’s back, except for the arm holding up the umbrella that shields the both of you from the pouring rain.

“yah!” he scolds you, clearly not pleased with the words that just came from your mouth. “what does that mean?”

“i’m embarrassed! they’re probably feeling bad for you.”

the last sentence comes out as a whisper, pertaining to the side glances you’ve been attracting from strangers as you make your way to your boyfriend’s car.

unfortunately, he had to park somewhere far because the restobar’s parking lot was already full.

you jokingly complained about staining your white boots with dirt and mud, but you instantly regretted it when he bent down, signalling you to ride on his back without an ounce of hesitation.

“our shoulders always get wet when we share an umbrella,” he said. “if i carry you, wouldn’t it be better?”

“embarrassing? some would even say romantic!”

something peculiar happens then— when your lips ghost over his left cheek, planting an affectionate kiss there that lasts for seconds. you pull away with a smacking sound, giggly and bubbly, might be his favorite version of you.

“i love you,” you hum, grasping the umbrella upright before it could tip over.

he doesn’t know if you did it on purpose or not, kissing him precisely where his scar is, but his heart jumps in his chest when he feels it begin to throb.

as if the wound from his childhood has come alive. as if, once again, he is bleeding as he glares at his older brother, and he still wants to play games on the computer oblivious to the fact that it would leave a permanent scar, a brand new landmark on his body.

you mistake his silence for something else.

you frown, warm breath tickling his neck as you quietly ask. “are you still mad at me?”

he sighs, vision landing on the ground as his walking pace slows down. “no? i was wrong. i shouldn’t have questioned your decision in the first place… why would i be mad?”

you started playing the drums for your friend’s band two months ago, just as soon as he left for tour. you volunteered after witnessing how distraught they were when their drummer vanished without a trace. he learned that it used to be a hobby of yours from childhood until early teenage years, playing the drums, but it was robbed from you when your father took his instruments with him when he abandoned your home for another.

he was pleasantly surprised when he learned about it, recounted all the times your hands and fingers were drumming on any sort of surface and his head naturally bopped to the beat, but then again, you never brought it up.

isn’t ____ so cool? he would proudly say when he flaunts you to his friends, even the protocol team, who have never seen him so happy.

three times a week, from nine in the evening until midnight, your phone was propped up on an empty table infront of the stage, and him, on the other side of the globe, excitedly watched you from backstage while he was getting ready for their own show. some other times, he was in his hotel room, or the private jet. his patience has been tested by crappy wifi, nosy and noisy people, and his earphones that stopped working while you looked insanely attractive grooving to ‘why’d you only call me when you’re high?’ as you effortlessly played the drums. he showered you with compliments as you did for him. you’re working hard so he must do the same.

he arrived home from tour the other day, spent the rest of its hours sleeping. yesterday, he waited for you at school and then at work like a lost puppy, slept on your bed (if he’s being honest, the two of you didn’t do much sleeping) then woke up at 9am for work.

and he tried his best, he really did, to get out of the company early enough to catch you playing a song or two. after all, it was your last day at the job.

much as you enjoyed reconnecting with an old flame— loved the overflowing tips that came from those who were amazed by your talent (well, there were also those who were just trying to get into your pants), the moment that the old drummer got down on his knees begging to be taken back by his best friends, just like how you became a part of the band, you voluntarily stepped down.

jungkook didn’t agree with this decision. he didn’t understand why you’d sacrifice something that makes you happy for a person who fucked up and wasted what they had. you went back and forth over it on the phone until you cried, told him that it wasn’t easy for you, and he couldn’t hold you in his arms or kiss your face. he could only apologize, and it even felt insincere doing it through a screen.

maybe he’s only relieved that you no longer need to be around a man an entire decade older than he is, who is obviously interested in you and serves you alcohol drinks. no, that doesn’t sit right with him. he needs jun, or whatever the fuck his true name is, to stay very far away from his baby.

“i’m just sad that i never got to watch you perform in person.”

you rest your cheek on his shoulder, heavy eyelids slowly blinking as the headlights of a black van blindsides you.

what the fuck. too bright.

“me too…”

—

“i’m bored,” you release a dramatic sigh, stealing a glimpse of jungkook at the driver’s seat, just to see if you caught his attention like you intended.

his eyes are trained on the dashboard, however, focused on the navigation guide displayed on his phone. he isn’t very familiar with this part of the city. it took him more than an hour to arrive at the address you sent him, including the time he spent in the middle of traffic.

“forty-eight minutes, then we can do whatever you want.”

“whatever i want?”

he slows down the car, briefly turning his head to find you expectantly looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“of course,” he laughs, taking one hand off the wheel to squish your cheeks together. “just tell me what it is, baby.”

he doesn’t catch the sad look that flashes across your face after you lose his touch.

“then i’ll tell you when i figure out what i want,” you say quietly.

“i thought you already had something in mind?”

“nope,” you answer with yet another sigh.

you choose to stare out the window in silence, body completely slumping into your seat in defeat.

jungkook’s senses are sharp, or he likes to believe so. “are you okay?”

“i’m okay,”

“you sure?”

“hmm,” you hum curtly, and then you close your eyes, so he decides not to press further despite wanting to.

he meets a red traffic light not long after that. and so, he hurriedly grabs the black fleece blanket in the backseat. he envelopes you in it, crossing the distance between you to softly press his lips onto yours for a goodnight kiss. he feels you respond, albeit lazily, and he smirks cockily when you lift yourself up to chase him for one more, please— desperately, to get your fill of goodnight kisses from the many nights that you missed it.

the time seems to tick excruciatingly slow now that you’re quiet. a minute is multiplied by a hundred. the steady rhythm of your breathing keeps him sane throughout dark avenues and encounters with reckless drivers of the midnight scene.

he missed you. he missed you so much, and he knows that you’re tired from university, and tutoring high school students in english, and playing the drums for more than two hours… but he selfishly wishes that you’re awake right now so he can make up for the two months that you were apart.

be careful of what you wish for, they said.

jungkook should know better by now.

“i can’t sleep,” he hears you whisper in a dulcet tone that indirectly tells him you’re in need of some love… but he isn’t given the chance to act upon that request because you’re already all over what it is that you need.

he swallows thickly, glancing down at your hand that has somehow found its way to his inner thigh— zeroing in on your red nails, can feel them faintly grazing his skin.

you’re so pretty. everywhere.

even when naked and bare.

no, especially. it’s all he can think about.

he can draw you from memory.

“____,” he utters your name through gritted teeth, heart beginning to race a thousand miles per second in his chest.

the effect of your teasing touch is instantaneous, slowly inching closer and closer to where his growing erection is. his eyes remain focused on the road, but he fears that he’ll start thinking with his dick soon if you carry on with this act a few seconds longer.

“shit, not now, baby- please- not while i’m driving.”

your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, poorly concealing a self-satisfied smirk, and you pretend not to hear a single word from his plea.

a minx, that’s what you are, always causing trouble and blurring lines in his eyes.

“____, i’m not joking around. don’t make me mad-”

his warning is cut short by-

“fuck… fuck,” he curses, filter flying out the window once he feels you tracing the outline of his hard-on, the feather-light touch of your fingers smoothly gliding across the fabric of his sweatpants, and he completely loses it when your soft palm caresses his cock, so gentle that it feels almost innocent.

okay, so he couldn’t feel it because you weren’t skin-to-skin, but he knows that your hands are soft, can feel his imagination running wilder because he has memorized the way they feel on most parts of his body.

you’re so incredibly nasty and evil for this— squeezing him lightly, taking advantage of how sensitive he’s gotten, making him tremble as pleasure shoots up his spine. his breath stutters in his lungs and he unconsciously pushes harder on the gas.

and although it means fighting every fiber of his being that painfully yearns for more, he seizes your wrist in an iron grip, placing your hand over the gearstick while his sits heavy on top of yours.

“____! behave! you’re going to get us killed!”

he watches you jut out your bottom lip through the rearview mirror, eyes hazy with lust staring down at where your hand used to be, and then his handsome face. he is evidently flushed, honey skin dusted with a rosy pink. all the way to the tips of his ears, down to his neck.

while he’s driving? really?

doesn’t this only happen in wet dreams?

you are not real.

“then pull over,” you plead. “please?”

he releases a shaky breath. you’re always so needy with alcohol in your system, drove him into total insanity while he couldn’t be here to give you what you wanted.

“no, you need to learn how to be patient… told you we can do whatever you want when we get home, right?”

wrong move.

the silence returns, and just when he thought that you went back to your journey to slumber, the sound of your sniffles fill the car.

jungkook’s heart breaks into a million pieces.

also, he wants to slam his head against the steering wheel.

you make it so fucking hard to resist you; you always get what you want. it becomes much harder when he is the subject of your desire and he loves being loved.

“haven’t i been patient enough…? i missed you so much.”

“and i missed you too!” he brings your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing them on your skin. “fuck, you have no idea how much… please, don’t cry.”

“then pull over,” you stubbornly insist, and he is so close to driving this car into a lamp post. “fuck me at the backseat.”

“can’t,” he mumbles, sounding almost pained, and he is. he wants you so bad, it hurts. “we’re going to have to do it without protection.”

“what do you mean?” you exclaim.

you rip your hand away from his, not wasting time in unlocking the glove compartment, and a sound of sheer disappointment escapes from your mouth as you collapse back on your seat.

“jungkook, i hate you!”

“well right now i hate myself too!” he cries out in frustration. “i didn’t have the time to buy more, okay?”

“and there’s not one in your wallet?”

“babe, are you serious?!”

“what?!”

somehow, his hands still expertly swivels the steering wheel as the car meets a curve.

but he feels dizzy. the ghost of your touch is still there, a promise of carnal pleasure unfulfilled.

“stop the car,” you say out of the blue, rather calmly, and that terrifies the shit out of him.

he swallows the lump in his throat, eyes switching between you and the road in panic. “huh?”

“i said stop the car, i’m stepping out.”

“babe, come on,” he moans, ruined and tormented. he reaches for your hand but you scoot further away from him, and he ignores the way his heart drops to his stomach as he kneads your exposed thigh instead. “please, don’t be like this. i just got home.”

“jungkook! if you don’t let me get off this car right now, i swear!”

the urgency embedded in your threatening voice leaves your boyfriend with no choice but to pull over to the side of the street as soon as he gets the chance.

he carries on to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“baby, stop being stu-”

he tries to reach for you, but he is rudely ignored as you hop off the car and slam the door shut on his face.

“…bborn…”

he blinks.

he inhales. he exhales.

and then he buries his face in his hands to scream… as quietly as possible.

“what the fuck was in that margarita?!”

—

jungkook steps out of the car worried sick about you. now wearing a black bucket hat, his head whips in different directions in search for the familiar shape of your body, your hair, your shirt that is his, anything.

his arm rests on top of the car door, the other on the roof, fingers drumming on it anxiously as he chews on his bottom lip.

there are mostly restaurants here, it seems. some are already closed, some are still lights on. not far away, he hears a karaoke place bursting with music and laughter. he looks up and he finds that the night sky remains barren of stars; there’s no guidance from the heavens that will lead him to you.

except for the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name.

he turns around, and he knows it’s going to sound extremely silly, but damn, you make his life feel like a movie— because you’re jogging towards him, and the universe begins moving in slow motion. perhaps it is to prevent him from falling on his knees in relief, because he genuinely thought that you already went home on your own like the stubborn brat that you are.

“____, where did you go?! you can’t just run off like that! seriously, that was not nice!”

“i forgot my wallet!” you squeal as you halt infront of him, slapping your forehead as a way to scold yourself. “i found a hotteok cart!”

his anger quickly dissipitates. he scans your face, mouth agape in bewilderment.

you, screaming at him to stop the car because there was a sighting of your favorite snack? makes sense.

he dishes out the wallet from his pocket. “wha- i thought you… you didn’t have money?”

you shake your head to answer his question.

“then how are you already eating?”

you take another bite from the hot hotteok you’re holding in a paper cup, and then you shrug.

“i was already eating when i realized it,” you point at yourself, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “so he let me run back here. does it look like this face would steal?”

“you’re impossible!” he bursts out laughing, the unique sound of his joy harmonizing with the mundane noises of the city.

he is thoroughly amused and in awe of your undeniable charm never failing to work its magic. if you just gave it a shot, you might be even better at him at his job.

you’re pliant as he captures your wrist, tugging you away with him so he can lock the car.

“i bought three, by the way.” you note as the two of you start walking, with you clinging to his side. “the last three then mister can go home.”

you put the hotteok near his mouth, and he pauses to take a big bite. “have you even had dinner?”

“just the four margaritas- they were yummy! or was it five?”

he clicks his tongue in disappointment, but he doesn’t get to say anything more about it because you’ve reached the hotteok cart, and he’s already handing the vendor the money.

“thank you!” he bows his head politely as he accepts the remaining two you mentioned earlier, handing them over to you.

“no, this is yours.” you speak with tenderness, giving back one of the cups to him. “then we’ll split the third one. it’s really good!”

the vendor secretly watches the interaction with a fond smile as he packs up to finally, finally end his long day working at the busy streets of seoul.

—

you’re sat together on the hood of jungkook’s car as you share a midnight snack. with caring hands, you rip the hotteok apart in perfect halves, offering the other to your lover. he accepts it in between his teeth.

“do you want drums as your christmas gift?”

“love,” you search for the words to say as you chew the food in your mouth. “i can barely fit in my apartment. where am i going to put a drum set…? not to mention that i can’t even cry without my neighbor hearing it.”

his shoulders drop in dejection, and you rub your boyfriend’s back in an attempt to comfort him.

“you must really want to see me play, don’t you?”

“i’m dying to,” he says in pure jungkook fashion, tone dramatic and thick with an accent that is entirely his. “i can’t believe there were regulars who saw you every night, while i, your boyfriend, didn’t even see you once…! even that fucking bartender… this- this can’t be right! do you think this makes sense? no, right?”

“aw, my baby,” you coo at him, jutting out your bottom lip as you tenderly cup his face.

“i don’t trust him, by the way,” he scoffs. “as much as possible, stay away from him when you visit, alright…? if i see him touching you one more time, i don’t know what i’ll end up doing to him.”

“i don’t like him either,” you giggle. “so that’s easy.”

he stares at your bloodshot eyes. damn it, you haven’t sobered up.

“____, i’m serious. he’s weird. i’m worried about you but i can’t always be here to protect you.”

you blink at him innocently. “i am too! serious!”

“you promise me?”

“i promise!”

he nods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he gets lost in the sea of his own thoughts. “i should talk to your friends about this, too. is that okay?”

“if that will ease your mind,” you half-smile, heart fluttering in your chest because you feel so cherished.

comfortable silence follows suit.

the hotteok is still soft and warm and sweet. if your love had to be delivered to his doorstep, it would in the form of your favorite food.

he sighs to gain more of your sympathy, basking in the attention he’s receiving from you. he missed this. he missed you. he sounds like a broken record, but it’s true.

“come ooon, don’t be sad! i’ll make it up to you! but it’s a surprise!”

“surprise?” he eyes you with suspicion. “what surprise?”

“just trust me, alright?”

you poke his cheek where his dimples are, and you witness them pop out as he copies your contagious smile.

“can i make a guess?”

“nope!”

you fit the remaining piece of your hotteok in your mouth, jumping off the hood of the car. you stand before him as you wipe your hands clean with a small paper napkin.

“don’t you dare. if you guess it right then my plans will be ruined!”

—

you’re back on the passenger seat to travel the remaining twenty-seven minutes to your apartment.

jungkook melts into the tenderness of your touch as he drives. you’re tracing the toned muscles of his arms; stroking his hair, his face, and the smell of the sticky brown sugar from the hotteok still lingers on your skin.

“when are you going to start getting tattoos?” you wonder out loud as he intertwines your fingers together on top of his thigh. “i think you’d look so pretty.”

“i’m planning on it.”

his heart skips a beat at the thought of you remembering that he wants his skin artfully inked as you absentmindedly distracted yourself with it.

he licks his lips, smiling as he looks over at you. “you really think so? pretty?”

“hm, hot, too,” you stick your tongue out playfully, and he snorts out a laugh. “but as long as you’re happy, then nothing else matters.”

“of course- wait, yah! you still need to eat dinner.” he reminds you once he recognizes the path you’re taking.

a grocery store is not more than a kilometer away, if his memory serves him right.

“what do you want? i don’t mind cooking.”

“for you to fuck me, that’s what i want. you won’t mind that, too?”

oh my fucking god.

he wishes you were passed out drunk instead so he wouldn’t have to suffer this battle between self-control and his insatiable appetite for you.

“baby, aren’t you still sore from this morning?”

“a little,” he notices you squeezing your thighs together from his peripheral, and along with it, the bruises on your knees from when you worshipped his body last night. “but i want you.”

your giggles in reaction to him frustratedly running his fingers through his hair seems to only fuel the dirty thoughts in his head. he uncomfortably shifts in his seat to adjust himself.

“can you just bring it up when we get near your house? you’re killing me over here!”

“but why? i’m having fun.” you bring your tangled hands over to your side, peppering the back of his hand with innocent kisses. “i love you. you’re so cute.”

“are you… are you seriously calling me cute after what you just asked me to fuck you?”

his disbelief is challenged by your amusement.

“why not? being one dimensional? boring. being different things all at once? sexy.”

jungkook doesn’t need to see you play the drums to know that you are the only one capable of making his heart beat like this. to feel it pounding, it turns out there’s another way besides performing, he can just be alone with you. a different type of addictive exhilaration. he isn’t at the top of the world; he free falls as it revolves around you.

you always know the right words to say, because right now, he is preening. he’s wearing a big smile, the kind that looks like he’s laughing, but he’s not— almost. the kind that reaches his eyes, shapes them into little crescent moons.

how did he get so lucky?

rehearsals in the morning be damned, he will be fucking you good all night.

you make a noise of confusion when the car swerves into the trees at the side of the road.

“what are we doing here?”

jungkook only spares you a glance. “get in the backseat, baby.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #bts imagine #bts fanfic

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comatosebunny09 · 2 months ago

Text

apt 302 | sylus q.

— summary: at first, your new neighbor was as mysterious as he was handsome. after taking some time to get to know him—or forcing your way into his quiet life—you realize looks can be deceiving. — cw: gn reader, neighbors au, neighbors to friends to lovers, profanity, innuendoes, jealousy, misunderstandings, stalker ex, alcohol use, guns mentioned, self-indulgent, allusions to reincarnation, angst, pet names, sylus being an insufferable gentleman, slice of life — dividers by: @omi-resources — notes: this grew way longer than i expected, soooooo you’re gonna hate me for what comes next. anyways, thank you so much for reading! — now playing: my favorite person now - she was pretty ost — tagging: @alfredosaws, @chuppiechanchan @hao-ming-8 @antonneva @sunsets-and-crows @leighsartworks216 @grabby-smitten @nebulorra @minniestarmj @elysiums-light @saiaise @queenofstresss @beewilko @aetherscribit @libriomancer @world-of-hearts @awkwardnurse @huachengnism

Information Technology isn’t as cushy of a field as you initially thought.

Sure, you have a desk job doing the most mundane of things—working the help desk, troubleshooting devices, re-imaging computers. But your job isn’t without its drawbacks.

Sometimes, the days are long and arduous. The constant customer interaction doesn’t help matters; you’re a bit of an introvert, requiring five business days to recover from just a few hours of socializing.

So, forgive you for seeking a little respite in the form of your favorite set of pajamas and fuzzy slippers as you ease into your apartment.

The weight of the world sloughs off your shoulders when the door leading inside clicks shut behind you. You sigh gratefully, the sound of your keys clattering against your entryway table, intermingling with that of your AC humming to life.

You hang your bag and sweater on the coat rack. Trade your uncomfortable shoes for house slippers, the soreness in your heels slowly retreating. The last vestiges of sunlight creep through the slits of your blinds to bathe your home in its ethereal glow before ducking behind the horizon.

Your apartment is humble. Has a natural, minimalistic vibe with bits of decor displaying your personality sprinkled throughout. You already pay the price of a kidney and two lungs to stay here. No use investing in posh furniture when your job sometimes requires you to pick up and go at the drop of a hat.

Your stomach growls whilst you draw your curtains shut and turn on some ambient lighting via your phone. You’ll eat soon, you promise. For now, you’re on a mission.

Quietly, you move through your home in search of your laundry area, thoroughly prepared to slip into your PJs following a shower to jumpstart your weekend.

Too bad a pile of sopping wet clothes awaits you when you open your dryer door.

“Goddammit,” said under your breath as you mash the power button. It won’t turn on. Figures. You kick the offending appliance. Stupid thing must be out again.

You had set your clothes to dry before you left for work. You were looking forward to snuggling up with wine and your favorite show, donned in comfy clothes. Seems your dryer had other plans.

You should’ve replaced it months ago when it first started acting up. You had hoped to salvage it a little longer; appliances don’t come cheap these days. Besides, you’ve had a darling neighbor to fix it each time. To extend its lifespan.

Speaking of which—

Chewing your lip, you pad over your cold, hardwood floor to snatch your phone from the coffee table. Fall onto your couch cushions with a devious smile twitching your lips. It’s getting late, so you don’t think to badger him into tinkering with your dryer tonight. However, perhaps he’ll let you utilize his. At least until you can use your day off tomorrow to shop for a replacement.

You hover your thumb over his contact, his name flanked by crow emojis. Contemplate calling him, but what if he’s busy? This is usually about the time he’s leaving. Instead, you settle for opening your messaging app, already conjuring an excuse.

(You): 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛💥💥💥 (Sylus): lol (Sylus): good morning to you too. (You): 😒😒😒 dude it’s like 6 (Sylus): 🤷‍♂️ (Sylus): im just now getting up. long day at the office. (Sylus): whats up? (You): are you busy tonight?? (Sylus): not really. 😏 what did you have in mind ? (You): pause. not like that (Sylus): 😢 (You): my dryer’s out again (Sylus): ah. want me to take a look? (You): nah you already do so much (You): is it cool if i use yours tho? 😬😬😬 (You): i’ll bring you booze (Sylus): lol (Sylus): its fine sweetie. doors unlocked. ill be in the shower. help yourself. (You): 🙏🙏🙏

You take your time gathering your saturated clothes into a basket. On your way out, you snag a bottle of Merlot from your fridge.

No matter how often you’ve been here, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to how much more… put together Sylus’ place is compared to yours.

It suits him—the black and red furniture, the stylish accents littering his apartment. It smells delightful inside, a mixture of mahogany and amber enmeshed with remnants of food. Soulful jazz flows from a record player, fitting the sepia-toned glow of floor lamps and candles flickering on every other surface.

You toe the door shut behind you. Feel so small and out of place amid his decor. You’ve only recently started coming here, having spent much of your time together inside your apartment. Regardless, you navigate his space like it’s your second home, finding his washer and dryer set.

After starting your clothes in the dryer, you wander back to the living room, hands stuffed in the pockets of your cardigan. You take some time to admire the atmosphere. Fingers skim over the various vinyls organized on a built-in bookcase on the wall.

You snort with a half-smile. You know so little about your neighbor, yet you know just enough to be this comfortable with him.

He’s a music buff; that much is for sure. He’s clearly made of money if the luxurious furniture and his car are anything to go by. You don’t press him about what he does for a living. Figure he values his privacy above all else, unlike you.

You’re an open book. The primary yapper in your acquaintanceship, prattling on about your life and aspirations. And he just sits there, wordlessly nodding with a polite smile behind the rim of his glass. Where you would otherwise be wary of being in someone’s home like this, you feel safe around him in a way that almost terrifies you.

“Admiring the decor,” teases a voice from behind.

You jolt, spinning around like you’ve been caught stealing. You’re met with a smirk beneath scarlet eyes, twinkling with mischief. Strands of white cling to Sylus’ forehead, damp from the warm spray of his shower. He towels his hair dry, maneuvering around the living set towards you.

“Hey, you,” you greet, trying to play it cool. Like your heart isn’t hammering and heat isn’t branching into your cheeks. You attempt to maintain eye contact. It’s increasingly difficult to do so with his physique peeking through his t-shirt and sweats like that.

“Hey, yourself.” There’s amusement in the deep gravel of his voice. A smile in his eyes as he studies you, draping his towel around his shoulders.

You swallow. Try to divert the subject, motioning to his record collection. “You got some new tunes, I see.”

A chuckle is dredged from the bowels of his chest. You feel it pull in your stomach. “Sure did. Got something you might like.”

God help you as he reaches around you, the fine hairs littering your body standing on end, your mouth agape like a fish out of water.

Unconsciously, you step back, your spine softly thudding against the records display. Your heartbeat’s on a warpath, and you swallow against the dryness of your throat as the veiny, sinewy muscle in his forearm stains your periphery.

He gives you a bemused look before slowly peeling a record from the shelf behind you. Steps back to fish out the vinyl and settle it on the platter, replacing the record that was just playing.

You release a breath you were unaware of holding. Good job playing it cool, dumbass.

“You alright?” Sylus quizzes with a raised brow. “You seem a little on edge tonight, sweetie.”

You sigh, schooling an unconvincing smile onto your face. Try to ignore how the term of endearment glides off his tongue so effortlessly. You wonder how many other people he addresses like that.

“Work was…rough today. Kicked my ass. I’m tired.”

A snarling sound invades the space between you, heard over the gentle croon of the new music. Your eyes fall to your stomach. You rub it placatingly. In all your haste to have some dry friggin’ clothes, you forgot to eat.

“And hungry, too,” you sheepishly add.

You glance up, and Sylus’ gaze tracks from your stomach to your face. He smirks knowingly, motioning with a nod toward his kitchen.

“Figured you didn’t eat yet. I made carbonara if you’d like some.”

You smile wryly at his back as he pads away, carrying the scent of cedarwood and bergamot with him. Where would you be without such a doting neighbor?

You track him to the kitchen. Leaning against the threshold, you watch him procure a bottle of water from his fridge. It’s so very small, dwarfed by his massive hand.

“I suddenly got called for a Teams meeting five minutes ago.”

Your heart drops, the smile nearly falling from your face. And here you thought you’d have his company over dinner.

Suddenly, he taps your nose, drawing you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t noticed when he got closer, swaddled in the static of your bodies being so close. “Where did you run off to,” he rasps, searching your gaze for something.

The proximity of your bodies grows stifling, his warm breath glazing over your skin, dizzying. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he steps back, leaving you shell-shocked and utterly confused.

“In the meantime, make yourself at home. You know where everything is,” he says, brushing past you with an air of finality.

You strain your ears for the noise of a distant door shutting before you make your move, rummaging through his cupboards and drawers for a plate and cutlery. After you’ve scooped a decent helping of food onto your plate, you settle onto one of his velvet couches, cross-legged and shoveling food into your maw.

The fluttering of wings piques your interest. You’ve hardly any time to acknowledge him before a tuft of black, iridescent feathers shines from Sylus’ coffee table. The crow studies you curiously, ingesting you with his beady eyes before he preens himself.

“Me-fith-toe!” you greet around a mouthful of food.

Said crow ducks away, dodging errant crumbs and spit flying from your mouth, cawing in protest. You give him a rueful look.

Sylus has a soft spot for animals. You noted it the first time you entered his apartment, greeted by his boisterous companion. Funny; he doesn’t look like the type to have such an eccentric pet.

But Sylus has found numerous ways of pleasantly surprising you, revealing parts of himself to you bit by agonizing bit.

“Chicken?” you say after finally swallowing, offering a forkful of pasta to the bird. Mephisto scrutinizes the food before resigning himself to pecking at it. You smile fondly, your eyes crinkling with mirth. “Mephisto, you cannibal.”

Lulled by the occasional flap of Mephisto’s wings and Sylus’ even tone murmuring things of business somewhere far off in his home, you fall into a familiar rhythm, quietly waiting for your clothes to dry.

You spend the remainder of your evening in your neighbor’s company, drinking Merlot and judging each other’s music tastes, long after your pajamas have dried and settled in the dryer.

“So, have you boned yet?”

You choke on your waffle. Pound on your chest with the heel of your palm to dislodge it. You turn narrowed eyes on the source of the question. She merely shrugs from across the table, sipping her mimosa as if she’s asked the most innocent thing.

“Bitch.”

“What?” She appears nonplussed, setting her champagne flute down with a definitive clack. All serious when she returns your stare over crossed arms, and you know you’re in for it.

“You talk about the guy so much I figured you would’ve already, ya know…” The humping gesture she makes under the table is a bit much.

You blanch. “No, dumbass, I haven’t boned.” Your voice peters towards the end of your sentence. And you peer down at the napkin folded in your lap, heat prickling your face.

You won’t deny Sylus is good-looking. More like he could be someone modeling Prada on a catwalk. Can’t pretend you haven’t entertained the thought of being a little closer to him, too. More than just the late nights spent talking or him fixing something you broke.

You shake your head. Of all the times you’ve been tucked away in either of your apartments, he’s never made a move on you. Sure, he’s said some pretty suss things. Flirted with you outside of your usual banter.

And maybe he’s done things to confuse the ever-loving hell out of you—cooked you breakfast when you were drunk off your ass and hungover the next morning. Lended you one of his expensive record players. Shacked up at your place a few times under the guise of “coming to get Mephisto.” But—

Nah. He’s not like that. You’re just neighbors, right? Unofficial friends. Friends hang out all the time, right?

“He’s not like that,” you say brattishly, stuffing more food into your face. At least not with you.

You don’t miss your coworker’s fox-like grin spreading in your periphery. She taps her cheek thoughtfully, watching you like a smug sibling about to snitch.

“Sure, sure. If you say so. He’s still a man, though. He might not have tried you yet—”

“Hush,” you interject. The table shakes, cups rattling as you saw into your sausage with your fork and butter knife. You’re done with this conversation.

Try as you might, however, you can’t banish your thoughts revolving around him. Especially with your coworker watching you like that, silently egging you on.

He’s not that kind of guy.

He’s still a man, though.

You’ve repeated it like a mantra throughout your day, even as you mindlessly clacked away at your computer.

Work was a blur. An exhausting blur. Day gave way to the soothing exhale of night, and you were finally nestled in the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, on your couch, entertaining yourself with a game of Uno. It wasn’t much fun playing alone, but you needed a distraction from the mess of your mind when your favorite show couldn’t help.

It’s a quarter past 9 when a shuffling sound in the breezeway outside your apartment catches your attention. It’s accompanied by the echoed rasp of a recognizable voice, chuckling and murmuring indiscernible things.

You peel yourself from your couch as if on autopilot, nose pressed against the cold metal of your door as you peer through the peephole.

It’s your nightly ritual—waiting like an overzealous puppy to greet or send off your neighbor. You don’t always get the luxury of saying goodnight in person. Sometimes, he’s gone for days—weeks—at a time. You don’t know the semantics of his job, but you make it your mission to help assuage whatever burdens he shoulders whenever you can.

He’s there to help you, after all. Whether with a glass of wine, a warm meal, or his company.

So, forgive you for wanting to be a decent neighbor. And you would be tonight if not for the scene that passes through the fisheye of your peephole.

It’s Sylus, clad in something flattering and expensive. There’s no mistaking his broad back and shoulders. The purl of his voice, the wispy dusting of alabaster hair on his collar. But the smaller frame with him, well—

Your heart plummets into your stomach.

She’s pretty from what you can glean from the limited view of your peephole. Donned in a dress that’s form-fitting, voice high and light. Giggling silly things, fastened to Sylus’ side, held there by a virile arm draped around her middle. She’s drunk if the sloppy lean of her body is anything to go by. Sylus angles himself near her ear to whisper something, ushering in a new set of giggles.

You watch with your breath corked in your esophagus until they slide into his apartment together, their enmeshed voices fading from the stilled walls of the hallway.

Huh. Well, so much for him not being that type of guy.

You grapple with this new revelation, a furrow between your brows, hands falling listlessly at your sides. Numb as you drag yourself back to your couch, bouncing comically on the cushions.

You don’t even know why you’re upset. He's a grown man with a…life. You think.

It’s the first time you’ve witnessed him bringing someone to his place other than you, but it’s only natural for a guy like him to have options. He’s far from hideous. Has the gift of gab, for God’s sake. He’s charming and the very definition of masculine.

It just stings a little, knowing that it’s not…you that he’s touching like that.

So, you are definitely not flinging Uno cards onto the coffee table. Muttering things to yourself, gripping the stack in your hands so tightly, the plastic squeaks. What’s even got your undies in a bunch? The man’s not yours. You’ve never screwed around. Never really showed signs of wanting to, so it makes sense he would seek pleasures of the flesh elsewhere. His world doesn’t solely revolve around you as much as you would like for it to.

You’re halfway through a third round of angry card-flinging before a soft rap at your door nearly sends you some 30 feet into the air.

Stomping to your entrance, you peek through the peephole, and your heart works overtime when you catch sight of a wash of black and scarlet.

Internally, you scold yourself for how gullible you are. You throw the door open like you weren’t just cursing him and his stupid existence moments ago. Try to act nonplussed, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe with a haughty look.

Of course, he would smell good. Look good, propped against the threshold like that, an amused cant to his lips, his physique devastating beneath the tight cling of his turtleneck.

“Hey,” he greets, the sound breathy and easy like warmed honey.

“Hey, yourself.”

He studies you for a bit. Eyes flicker over your face, and you tamp down the sparkling rush of warmth that wades over your skin at the attention. Even when you’re mad at him, your attraction still finds an annoying way of creeping through the seams.

“This is going to sound incredibly strange, and feel free to tell me to piss off, but…do you mind if I crash on your couch for the night?”

You stand up straight. Blink owlishly, mouth opening and closing. “Huh?” is all you’re able to muster.

He chuckles, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this side of bashful. “Yeah. It’s a…bit of a long story, sweetie.”

“O-Okay,” you say, rigidly moving aside.

“Thanks.” The charm is back on, turned up to max capacity. He brushes past you into your apartment, falling onto your couch with a huff. Quirks a brow at the mishap on your table, the carnage having spilled onto the floor.

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but were you playing Uno by yourself?”

You ignore him, plopping cross-legged on a floor cushion adjacent to him. Bypassing the tick in your brow, you look off to the side, fighting the embarrassment threatening to take hold of your visage. Shouldn’t he be across the hall, entertaining his company?

“Shut up and grab some cards,” you grumble to dispel the green-eyed thoughts stewing in your mind.

“Bossy.” But he doesn’t contest you, gathering the abused cards to shuffle them.

The remainder of your evening slides by with comfortable quips. With booze and a break to catch up on Love Is Blind—somehow, he’d roped you into watching it.

You had no idea he was such a sap. Nearly forgotten how miffed you were mere hours ago.

He assuaged your worries with an explanation as the sun crept over the city.

The girl in his apartment was an old colleague who’d gotten drunk and convinced herself that she was anything but.

Being a good samaritan, Sylus brought her to his place to sober up since the apartment complex wasn’t too far from the main strip of bars. He didn’t want any issues when she inevitably woke up. Messing with drunk people wasn’t his thing.

So that’s how he ended up here, inhabiting your couch like he’d always been a part of the decor.

He didn’t owe you an explanation. You were just friends. Still, you couldn’t help the quiet smile that twitched your lips after he cleared the air.

At some point in the morning, you both fell asleep. He looked all serene, too big for your sofa, but comfortable. You watched his lashes flutter from your place on the floor, his lips parting with soundless exhales. Even in sleep, he maintained that guarded aura, his arms folded across his chest.

You were bleary-eyed, gathering yourself from the hardwood to fetch a blanket to drape over him. He shifted, and he was so pretty with the sun bathing him in an angelic glow like that, his hair bright like a halo.

You were about to retreat to your bedroom when an abrupt knock tore you from your reverie. You glanced at your guest, ensuring he went undisturbed. He needed the rest. He was a night owl, and something about the sun vexed him, so he typically spent his days sleeping when you weren’t impeding on his time.

You moved to the door, foregoing the peephole to open it. Big mistake.

On the other side stood Little Miss Pretty from the night prior, impatiently tapping her foot. Her hair was flattened on one side, and her dress was askew. By the looks of it, sleep hadn’t been kind to her.

“Hi, good morning,” she sighed, schooling her expression into fake politeness. She straightened herself as best she could, but the white patch of dried slob staining her chin did little to help her plight. You bit back a snicker.

“I’m looking for a friend. He lives across from you. His name’s Skye.”

You quirked a brow at that. Skye? Oh, honey…

You wondered how many other people Sylus had fed a fake alias to. Or if Sylus was even his real name.

“Haven’t seen him,” you chirped over crossed arms. Pulled the door slightly closed behind you, barring the woman from getting a peek at him, nuzzled up so cozily on your couch.

She sighed with slumped shoulders. A childish pout warped her lips. Her voice shifted into something more bratty. “You sure? Tall guy, white hair, red eyes? You can’t miss ‘em.”

“Not ringing a bell, hun. Sorry.”

It was taking all of you to keep up this ruse. You were fighting so hard to tamp down your amusement. This woman reminded you of an antagonist in a Korean drama, the way she was kicking and huffing about.

“Where the hell did he go,” she groused. You watched her draw her phone from the pocket of her fur coat, your throat growing dry.

Your blood turned to ice when a familiar ringtone chimed in your apartment behind you. You stiffened comically; mouth hinged open with shock.

The woman’s expression morphed into one of suspicion. She tried to look inside your home, the upbeat ring of Sylus’ phone still flooding the uncomfortable silence.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to assert her way inside. “What the fu—”

“Hey, girlie. Back the hell off before I call the police,” you warned with a hand pushed to her sternum. She insisted on being unruly, so you snatched your taser from the entryway table, the telltale blue sparks and sharp whip of static causing the woman to jolt back with alarm.

“You’re both insane!” she shouted from the hallway, the stomp of her heels reverberating off the walls as she made her way to the stairwell.

With a relieved sigh deflating your chest, you eased the door shut. Leaned against it, glancing at the man of the hour. He was still fast asleep, his leg dangling off the edge of your sofa. You smirked knowingly, shaking your head as you disappeared into your bedroom.

You’d let him sleep for as long as he needed. And you’d give him shit when he awoke about his taste in acquaintances.

(Sylus): hungry? (You): a little. was gonna make some ramen if you want (Sylus): 🤢 (Sylus): that stuffs terrible for your digestion sweetie. (Sylus): how about i make you dinner instead ? (Sylus): at the supermarket. need anything? (You): 😲😲😲 (You): you keep spoiling me and i might think you like me (Sylus): 😏 (You): nvm. no don’t need anything. lemme know when you’re back (You): i can help with groceries (Sylus): now who likes who? (You): fkdkos (Sylus): ? (You): sorry fat fingers

You have a nasty habit of not using your peephole as of late.

Your apartment came with one for a reason. Sure, your neighborhood’s been pretty tame since you’ve moved here. But that doesn’t mean the occasional weirdo doesn’t slip past security, roaming the halls and startling the other tenants.

You’ve found yourself forgoing the use of it a lot lately, given the only person who typically knocks on your door is the guy across the hall. And he usually calls or texts before he bugs you, but that doesn’t stop him from being spontaneous. You suppose today is one of those such cases after he manipulated you with dinner.

Maybe his hands are full, you muse, unlocking your door. Though you’re doubtful he can’t handle a few bags. You’ve seen him in action at the community gym, thick cords of muscle rippling beneath a tan stretch of skin.

You draw the door open with a smile, expecting to see a customary thatch of white. What confronts you instead sends a tide of dread washing over your innards.

“Oh, thank God you’re home,” breathes a voice you haven’t heard in months. A voice that still makes your body stiffen, and your blood run cold.

When your senses return, you step back into your apartment, thoroughly intending to slam the door in your ex’s face. They’re quicker, however, wedging themselves in the gap before you can shut it. Grabbing for you, a crazed look warping their features.

“Baby, please! Talk to me! I miss you!”

You bat at their hand, trying vainly to crush them, to scare them off. It’s to no avail, and you wonder if they’re coked up, giving you a run for your money as they try to bully their way into your home.

There’s a softball bat propped on the wall, and your fingers brush the base of it in your attempt to grab it. Something to defend yourself since your taser’s out of reach, tucked somewhere in your bag.

The sounds of your struggle intermingle, your voice strained and panting, please please please, and your ex’s caught between sobs of your name.

Just a little further. Just—

Suddenly, there’s no more resistance in your door. You stumble against it, a wild look in your eyes. And then, there is the noise of a brief scuffle. Of a back being shoved against a wall, of rusting plastic bags, of “Who the fuck are you?!”

Amid your panicked frenzy, you glance up to see a back to you. Barring you from the view beyond your threshold, and your body’s awash with relief as you register your savior’s form.

“You would do well to piss off,” seethes Sylus, and there’s an edge to his voice you’ve never heard before. You feel it furling in your stomach, burning your lungs. And in this moment, you don’t know who to be more afraid of.

Your ex makes a sound of protest, but you imagine the cut of Sylus’ eyes deterring them.

There is the scuffling of shoes across the concrete flooring of the breezeway, and you listen with bated breath until the cacophony fades at the foot of the stairs, willing your heart to ease down.

Scarlet eyes shift to you, brows knit with concern. “Who was that?” Sylus asks, tone cautious as if he doesn’t want to startle you more than you’ve already been.

You right yourself, smoothing out the wrinkles of your clothes. Finally grab your bat, waving it intimidatingly as you step aside to let your neighbor in.

“My stupid ex. Just know you saved their life. ‘cause I was gonna—” You make swinging gestures, the metal bat swooping in the air. The corners of Sylus’ eyes crinkle.

“Slow down before you hurt yourself.” He kneels to retrieve the bags he’d tossed down in his haste to intervene. You scurry over to help, gathering up spilled food.

Once you’re both inside, the bags placed haphazardly on the counter, you’re seated on your sofa, nursing the rush of adrenaline still spuming through you like the hot rush of a geyser.

“You need to get a restraining order,” says Sylus. He emerges from your kitchen with a tense set to his jaws, two bottles of Angry Orchard clasped between his fingers.

Plopping down beside you, an arm draped over the headrest, he shoves a bottle into your hand, side-eyeing you as he throws his head back for a swig.

You babysit the cider, the crisp condensation of it serving to ground you. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m not asking, sweetie.”

You bristle under the weight of his tone, feeling much like a scolded child. You know this. Should’ve done it long ago the first time your ex took it upon themselves to do surprise pop-ups at your place—at your job.

“And an alarm system.”

“I know, I know.”

“I can take you right now to look for one—”

“I got it, Sy! Fuck, I-I got it.” You release a weighted sigh, warring with yourself.

Not only do you feel silly for being so lackadaisical with your life. But now, you feel even worse for the seemingly impenetrable silence that settles between you. You didn’t mean to yell, frustration and adrenaline having burbled to the surface. He was just worried. No need to take your emotions out on him.

Sylus exhales slowly, an unreadable expression descending onto his face whilst staring at the wall.

“Sorry,” you murmur, unconsciously patting his quad. You don’t miss how he stiffens; don’t miss the tight coiling of tendons in his neck. You retract your hand, instead drumming your fingers along the bottom of your bottle.

“I’m assuming this isn’t the first time this has happened,” queries Sylus in an attempt to dispel the tense atmosphere.

You shake your head, shrinking into yourself. Stare at your lap, pulling at some frayed threads in your bottoms.

“How did they even manage to get up here?”

You shrug. The security guards at the gates aren’t always the most attentive. Besides, sometimes, the pin pad leading into the lobby malfunctions, making it easier for anyone to just slip into your complex.

Unprompted, you begin to bare yourself, explaining the possibilities of why your ex showed up.

Sylus listens attentively. Doesn’t interrupt you, watching the subtle shifts of your expressions as you speak.

You tell him that things weren’t bad in the beginning about two years ago. How your ex said and did all the right things, and they were wonderful. But they wanted something you weren’t ready for. You had some growing up to do, so you broke things off. Moved to another city, started a new job.

You didn’t bank on them following you.

The visits were random at first. Occasional run-ins at the park, the bar. Things soon blossomed into something more concerning when your ex found your new address after you relocated to another part of the city to ease the stress of the commute.

This was their second time making an appearance at your door. You knew you should’ve done something to protect yourself sooner, but you didn’t think much of it then. Figured they would live and let be. Today proved otherwise.

“You’re grossly naive, sweetie.”

You snort before gulping down the remnants of your cider. “Way to make me feel better.”

He chuckles, and it’s comforting, your thighs pressing together amid your dinky couch. “It’s what I’m here for. But I could understand how you could drive someone to such extremes.”

You glare at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means…”

Before you know what’s about, he’s panning in, flooding your vision with the scarlet shine of his eyes. With the wispy dance of his lashes until his breath fans over your molten cheeks. Limber fingers sneak beneath your chin, slightly tilting your head back.

Warmth wades over you. Your breath swells in your chest. Lips purse as a mysterious shade of burgundy leaks over his irises. His voice drops a few octaves, husky, the sound of it pinching in your stomach.

“It means that you’re someone worth fighting for.”

You scoff, shaking yourself away from his hold. Ignore the bashfulness creeping into your face in favor of being a cheeky little shit.

“All right, Li Shang. Getting a little too serious over there.”

He huffs a laugh in response, popping up to grab another round of ciders from your fridge.

Ingredients sat untouched on the countertop as your evening eased by. You’d settled on a pizza, catching up on shows and talking, long after the moon had pinned itself to the center of the sky.

Sylus promised to teach you how to use a gun. He had plenty and would carve out time in his schedule to take you to a range. He didn’t press much after, instead letting the weight of your evening melt from your shoulders.

He was reluctant to leave you, even after sunbeams spilled through your blinds and you snoozed so quietly, cheek propped against his shoulder.

His hand never left your thigh. Possessive in its touch as he mirrored your affections from before.

It’s strange.

Today is your birthday. You’re enjoying yourself, filled with enough alcohol to tranquilize a small goat.

Your co-workers had dragged you out. Surprised you with dinner, a cake. Took you to the strip of bars lining the streets adjacent to your apartment complex. You were all smiles until your cheeks ached, and you’d nearly thrown up from laughing so much.

Still, you feel…empty. Like something is missing. Or someone.

You look at your phone for the umpteenth time. Scroll through your messages, reliving the moment in your head.

Sylus was the first to wish you a happy birthday. It made you swell with overwhelming happiness, knowing he’d woken up so early to be the first to say it. You don’t think you’ve ever cried harder when he sent a voice message of him singing “Happy Birthday.”

God, for everything he was good at, poor baby couldn’t hold a note to dig himself out of a hole. Still, you cherished the gesture, lying in bed for the first hour you’d been awake, replaying said message and rolling around your bed like an enamored teen.

Even now, you replay the voice note, holding the speaker to your ear. It’s hard to hear it amid the live band playing and the merriment around you at the bar. Try as you might to enjoy what remains of your night, you can’t keep your thoughts from drifting back to a certain smug figure clad in black.

(You): 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛💥💥💥 (Sylus): hows it going birthday babe? (You): 😭😭😭 (You): u shuld be her e (Sylus) im sorry sweetie. i had some work to catch up on. (Sylus): you must be having a good time. 😏 (You): fuk wrk 🖕🖕🖕 (You): am not drink ur dronk (Sylus): lol. you sound plastered. (Sylus): do i need to come rescue you? (You): hum (Sylus): ? (You): hone (You): home (Sylus): 🫤 (Sylus): we need to have a serious talk about you enabling autocorrect. (You): r u (You): home (Sylus): about to be. why ?? (Sylus): sweetie?

Somehow, you find yourself staring at the glossy, black numbers embossed on the top center of his door. 302. It’s ingrained in your memory. You’d probably find your way to his apartment with your eyes closed, driven to it by the familiar smell and homeliness it exudes.

You’re still a little tipsy. Took some time to sober up as best you could before ditching your friends and catching an Uber back to your complex. You had enough sense to gather everything you’d shown up with. Didn’t hitch a ride with any strangers regardless of how many of them tried to pull you into their arms as you stumbled out of the bar.

You had a one-track mind. Only wanted to spend the rest of your birthday with him.

With a goofy smile plastered on your face, you knock on his door. You’re singing that infectious song you can’t get out of your head when it swings open.

“Apateu-pateu, apateu-pateu,” you chant, shaking your hips from side to side.

He greets you with an omniscient smirk, eyes softening whilst leaning against the doorframe. “Well, hello, birthday babe.”

“Sup!” you return a little too enthusiastically, pitching forward until Sylus steadies you with his hands. You giggle like a drunken fool, peering at him. Hadn’t realized how good his hands felt, searing through the fabric of your top.

Come to think of it, you hadn’t noticed many things about him before. His lips are a pretty shade of pink. Skin textured, nose sharp, cheeks high. Little flecks of amber dwell between the scarlet rinse of his eyes. His hair falls into his face, damp from the shower he probably had before answering the door.

“I take it you had a good night,” he says, gaze painting a steady triangle between your eyes and mouth.

“Almost,” you whisper back, surprised by the huskiness of your voice. You lose yourself in the idle stir of his eyes. In the fragility of his smile, and you feel so safe in his hands like this.

You don’t know what compels you to do it. To conquer the space of hot, dizzying breaths between you. But, you sort of…well…

Your inhibitions hit the floor. With your fingers wrapped tenderly around his wrists, you angle yourself closer to kiss him. You almost pull away when he stiffens. But he seemingly relaxes, and his lips cautiously move against yours as he unconsciously guides you closer.

You cling to the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He encircles your waist in his powerful arms, fastening you to the hard press of his body. He kisses you like he’s waited lifetimes to do it, one hand molding around the apple of your cheek.

When your tongue sloppily prods the barrier of his teeth, he bristles. Draws away from you with a resounding smack, blinking wildly. You’re confused. Your heart sinks. You try again to draw him back in, but he gently pushes you away, shaking his head to dispel the bleariness. To chase away the spell that’s fallen over you.

“Baby, wait. No. Not…not like this,” he rasps through kiss-swollen lips, holding you by your hips. You’re wounded. A hot flush of embarrassment washes over you, and your brows knit together like those of a confused puppy.

“Wha-what’s wrong? Did I—am I—”

“No, no, you’re…you're perfect,” he soothes with a chuckle, a thumb gliding over your bottom lip. “Beautiful, even. I just…I don’t think now is a good time to do this.”

“Oh.” You deflate, a scorching film of tears clouding your vision. “Oh, okay. Um, I’ll just—yeah, I’ll go. I’ll…see you around, I guess.”

You slide out of his arms, too mortified to look back as you fumble with your keys. After he murmurs a hoarse, “good night.” Did you misread him before? Misinterpret his actions, his words?

You’re numb as you sink into your couch. Sobriety slowly creeps in. Stray tears blister your cheeks, but you don’t full-on sob. Can’t bring yourself to, instead laughing hysterically with your face buried in your hands, swallowed by the bleak loneliness of your apartment.

Happy Birthday, indeed.

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #neighbor au #neighbors to friends #friends to lovers #sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #qin che #sylus fluff #sylus romance #lnds x reader #love and deepspace fic #gn reader #apt 302/304 series

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someonegoood · 12 days ago

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I’m not a kid! pt. 2 ✫ jeon jungkook

in which you’ve always had a hopeless crush on your brother’s best friend, Jungkook, who’s made it painfully clear he doesn’t feel the same—until a family vacation forces buried emotions to the surface.

CONTAINS: brother’s best friend troop, angst & fluff ! idolverse, age gap, arguments, jungkook is an ass with reader, +18, making out, smut, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, unprotected sex, explicit language…

NOTE: here’s part 2!! hope you like it!! this work is not revised and english is not my first language :)

minors, please do not interact!

part 1, part 2.

my masterlist!

The dining table stretched out in the middle of the open-concept villa, a long, wooden piece covered with platters of food your moms had spent the day preparing, drinks being poured.

You were aware of the man sitting across from you. Jungkook. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his tattooed arm as he sipped from his glass. He wasn’t saying much, but he didn’t have to. His presence was magnetic. Every move he made drew your attention, no matter how much you tried to focus on your plate.

Your mom was talking about you now, her voice brimming with pride.

“My daughter has been working so hard these past few months in her comeback,” she said, smiling as she looked down the table at you. “I don’t know how she does it. She barely sleeps!”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, hating how everyone’s attention shifted to you.

“She’s always been like that,” your brother chimed in, grinning. “Remember when she stayed up all night practicing for that school play? She was so nervous she forgot her lines.”

The table erupted into laughter, but you felt your cheeks burn. You glanced at Jungkook, expecting him to join in, but his expression was unreadable. He was leaning back in his chair, one hand curled around his drink as his eyes were fixed in you.

“She’s always been determined,” Jungkook said suddenly, his voice cutting through the noise. It wasn’t a compliment exactly—more of a detached observation—but the way he said it made your heart stutter.

“Yeah, determined to prove she’s not a kid,” your brother teased, nudging your arm.

“I’m not a kid,” you muttered, but it was drowned out by another wave of laughter.

You forced a tight smile, trying to play along, but the heat in your chest wouldn’t go away. When you glanced at Jungkook again he was taking another sip of his drink, now his eyes looking at the sky.

Halfway through dinner, you accidentally knocked your knife off the table. It clattered to the floor, and before you could reach for it, Jungkook leaned forward, his voice sharp.

“Careful,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

The comment was casual, but there was an edge to it that made your stomach twist.

“I can manage,” you replied, grabbing the knife yourself. Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be.

Your brother, completely oblivious, just laughed again. “She’s always been clumsy, too.”

Jungkook didn’t laugh. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on his plate, and the tension between you grew thicker.

As the night wore on, you tried to lose yourself in the chatter around the table, but it was impossible to ignore him. The way he looked at you—brief, fleeting glances that felt like they burned—kept pulling you under.

By the time dessert was served, you were exhausted. Not from the conversation, but from trying to act like his presence didn’t affect you. And when you finally excused yourself to the kitchen, you swore you felt his eyes follow you as you left.

The soft glow of the kitchen light greeted you as you stepped inside, seeking refuge from the buzz of the dining room. You reached for a glass of water, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Couldn’t take the noise anymore?” a warm voice asked behind you.

You turned to see Mrs. Jeon standing at the doorway, her kind smile immediately softening your nerves. She was carrying an empty platter, her movements unhurried as she crossed the room to place it on the counter.

“Yeah,” you admitted, setting your glass down. “Needed a little breather.”

She chuckled, opening a cabinet to grab some storage containers. “I don’t blame you. That dining table can get a little overwhelming, especially with all the teasing going on.”

You gave her a small smile, nodding. “It’s like they’re never going to let me forget I’m the youngest.”

She glanced at you knowingly, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “That’s because we all adore you. Even if they have a funny way of showing it sometimes.”

You leaned against the counter, watching as she began packing up some of the leftover food. It was comforting—being here with her, away from the tension that lingered with Jungkook at the table.

She smiled, her gaze flicking to you. There was a brief pause before she spoke again, her tone softer this time. “You and Jungkook… you used to be so close when you were kids. He used to talk about you all the time.”

Her words caught you off guard, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “He did?”

She nodded, her smile tinged with nostalgia. “Oh, yes. He used to come home and tell me all about the adventures you two would have with your brother. He always said you were fearless—always trying to prove yourself.”

You let out a quiet laugh, staring down at your hands. “I guess I was just trying to keep up with them.”

“Even now, I can see how much he cares about you.”

You froze at her words, your chest tightening. “I don’t think that’s true,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

She set down the container she was holding and turned to face you fully, her expression soft but serious. “Trust me, I know my son. He’s not always the best at showing how he feels, but it’s there.”

You looked at her, unsure of how to respond. The knot in your chest only grew tighter, and you fought the urge to spill everything—to tell her how hopelessly you’d fallen for him, how his mixed signals were tearing you apart.

But you didn’t. Instead, you forced a small smile and nodded. “Thank you.”

She reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You’re a good girl. And I know you’ve got a lot on your plate with your career, but don’t let the little things pass you by, okay? Sometimes the things we think we can’t have are just waiting for us to take a chance.”

You stood there for a moment, her words replaying in your mind. And as much as you wanted to believe her, the memory of Jungkook’s distant gaze at dinner told a different story.

The next morning the sun was high, shimmering over the gentle waves and warming the soft stretch of sand. You stood at the edge of the villa’s terrace, adjusting the straps of your pink bikini, the light breeze brushing against your skin as you took a deep breath.

When Jungkook stepped onto the patio heading to the beach, his footsteps faltered. For a moment, he froze. His gaze landed on you, his eyes taking in the vibrant color of your bikini that hugged your frame, your beautiful curves, in a way that felt unfairly distracting.

You caught his gaze, and his dark eyes quickly flicked up to yours, as though caught red-handed. His jaw tightened, and he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

“You coming or not?” your brother called from down the path, completely unaware of the sudden tension hanging between you and Jungkook.

“Yeah,” Jungkook muttered, tearing his gaze away and following after him. But as you trailed behind, he couldn’t help but glance back at you. Noticing how some of the guys at the beach—strangers sprawled across towels and tossing a frisbee—let their eyes linger on you just a little too long made his stomach twist.

The feeling was foreign, uninvited. He hated it.

By the time you reached the beach and found a spot to settle, Jungkook had barely spoken a word to you, though his eyes betrayed him every time you moved. As you pulled out a bottle of sunscreen and started rubbing it into your arms, he tried to focus on anything else—the waves, the sky, the sound of seagulls—but the sight of you struggling to reach your back was impossible to ignore.

“Need help?”

You looked up, startled by his sudden voice. His expression was guarded, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

“Oh,” you said, hesitant. “Sure. If you don’t mind.”

He positioned himself behind you, his hands steady as he took the bottle from you and squeezed a small amount into his palm. The first touch of his hands against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, though you tried your best to hide it.

Jungkook swallowed hard, his fingers gliding over your shoulder blades and down the curve of your back. He tried to keep his movements clinical, detached, but the softness of your skin under his touch and the scent of the sunscreen—mixed with whatever perfume you were wearing—was messing with his head.

“All done,” he said quickly, pulling his hands away as if they’d been burned.

“Thanks,” you murmured, glancing at him over your shoulder. He was already looking away, his jaw set tight.

A few minutes later, you waded into the water, the cool waves lapping at your legs. Jungkook followed, his hair pushed back by the wind as he tried not to look at you too much. But when you laughed—light and carefree, splashing water at him—he couldn’t help it.

“Is this payback for all those summers I beat you at volleyball?” he teased, smirking as he splashed you back.

You rolled your eyes, the sun catching in your damp hair as you moved closer. “You didn’t beat me. You cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat.”

“You totally did,” you said, laughing again. The sound was like a melody he couldn’t ignore.

The two of you were close now, the waves brushing against your waists. His smile faded slightly as he looked at you, the playfulness in his expression giving way to something softer, something heavier.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

Your laughter faded as you looked up at him, suddenly hyperaware of how close you were. His gaze dropped to your lips for just a moment, and your heart leapt into your throat.

He took a step closer, his hand brushing yours under the water. The air between you felt electric, charged with everything unspoken.

But before either of you could close the distance, a voice shattered the moment.

“Hey! You two good out here?” You jumped, spinning around to see Minho standing on the shore, waving at you both.

“We’re fine!” you called back, your voice a little too loud, your cheeks burning.

Jungkook cleared his throat, stepping back and running a hand through his hair. “I-I should probably head back,” he said, his tone clipped.

“Yeah,” you agreed quickly, your heart still racing as he turned and waded back toward the shore, leaving the moment—and whatever it could have been—behind.

“I’m telling you, we should go for a darker concept this time,” Yunjin said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Something intense and powerful. No one’s expecting it.”

The night was quiet, save for the distant crash of waves against the shore. You were tucked away in your room, sitting cross-legged on the bed with your phone in your hands. The screen glowed with the faces of your members—Nari, Mimi, Yunjin, and Sky—who were all chatting animatedly about your group’s upcoming comeback.

“Darker? That could work, but we need to make sure it fits the choreography,” Nari said, her expression thoughtful.

You leaned back against the headboard, a soft smile tugging at your lips you play with the edge of your oversized white t-shirt with Hello Kitty's face. The conversation was exactly what you needed after a long day—something normal to ground you. But as the topic shifted away from the comeback, you felt the air shift, like they were plotting something.

“So…” Sky began, dragging out the word with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “What’s going on in the villa? Did you fuck?”

“Sky! Oh my god…” You shouted while your cheeks were turning redder. The mention of a situation involving his body and touch made your stomach flip.

“Don’t act clueless,” Mimi teased. “You probably have fucked him ten times by now.”

“That’s my queen!” Yunjin chimed in, laughing.

“There’s nothing, no fucking,” you muttered, but your voice lacked conviction.

“Liar!” Nari laughed. “Come on, spill. What’s the deal?”

You sighed, finally giving in. “Fine. Something happened today.” Their eyes lit up, and you immediately regretted opening your mouth.

You told them everything: the way Jungkook had helped you with sunscreen at the beach, the near-kiss in the water, and how he’d gotten jealous over the way other guys were looking at you.

Mimi gasped. “He helped you with sunscreen? That’s practically a love confession.”

“And he was jealous?” Sky added, her grin wide. “Oh, he’s down bad.”

Yunjin leaned closer to the camera, her eyebrows raised. “So, what now? Did you talk to him about it?”

Before you could answer, a faint noise broke through the chatter—a soft scraping sound, like someone fiddling with your doorknob.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Hold on,” you whispered, staring at the door.

“Girl are you alright?” Your members asked.

The sound grew louder, more insistent, and then the door handle turned. You grabbed the nearest object—a hairbrush—your grip tightening as the door creaked open.

“Kid?” came a familiar voice, low and annoyed.

“Jungkook?” Your breath hitched as he stepped into the room, his broad shoulders filling the doorway.

“Relax,” he muttered, closing the door behind him. “It’s just me.”

“Just you?” you snapped, lowering the hairbrush. “What are you doing barging into my room like that?” You grabbed your phone and turn the video call off.

He ignored your question, his gaze flicking to your phone. “What are you doing? It’s almost midnight, and you’re loud enough to wake the entire villa.”

Heat rushed to your face. You quickly ended the call, ignoring the teasing protests of your members, and turned to face Jungkook. “You could’ve just knocked.”

“I did knock,” he said, crossing his arms. “But you didn’t hear me. So, I let myself in.”

You stared at him, unsure whether to be angry or embarrassed. “Fine. Sorry for keeping you up. You can go now.”

But he didn’t move. Instead, he locked the door, his expression shifting into something more serious.

“Jungkook?” you asked, your voice softer now.

He leaned against the door, running a hand through his hair. “At the beach earlier, when those guys were staring at you…” His jaw tightened, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “It made me so jealous I couldn’t think straight.”

You blinked, his words hitting you like a tidal wave. “You… Please, you don’t get to be jealous,” you said, your voice trembling with frustration. “You’ve been with other girls before, and I respected that. I didn’t say anything. Why should you get to feel jealous when I’ve done nothing wrong?”

His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, the weight of his stare almost too much to bear. “You’re right,” he said after a moment, his voice rough with emotion. “But that doesn’t stop me from feeling it. I can’t stand the idea of anyone else looking at you that way.”

Your heart raced, your chest tightening as his words sank in. “That way?” you whispered.

“Like they can have you,” he admitted, stepping closer. “I’m not allowed to want you, even though I do. So… seeing that guys-”

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling at your sides. “Jungkook…”

“Tell me to leave,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you don’t want this—if you don’t want me—just tell me to leave, and I will.”

But you didn’t. Instead, you took a step closer, your heart pounding as you reached for him. His lips met yours in an instant, the kiss urgent and electric, like a dam breaking after years of restraint.

His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as your fingers tangled in his hair. The world outside the room faded away, leaving only the two of you and the emotions you could no longer deny. When you finally pulled back, your breaths were shallow, your foreheads pressed together.

“This changes everything,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said, his voice steady. “But I don’t care anymore. I just want you.”

And for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe him. “Jungkook...” Little by little, he brought you both closer to your bed and out of nowhere you were lying between the soft white sheets and him on top of you.

“Jungkook, what? Now you wanna beg?” He grinned, your arms found their way around his neck, legs already wrapping around his waist and pushing him against you. You almost had to chuckle when you felt that he was hard already.

You looked down to your t-shirt, only to realize you had still had your oversized Hello Kitty t-shirt, shit.

“That t-shirt looks good on you. Although one of mine would look even better,” he said, kissing your nose. You punched hin lightly in his chest, laughing softly.

“Mm-uh.” he opened your legs and traced with his hand an imaginary path in your lower stomach.

“Wait… anyone can hear us,” you said, fear in your voice.

“I know baby, but I’m so serious right now,” he pauses and gives you a hungry daring stare. “Dead serious. I won’t let anyone else fuck me if it isn’t you.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“One hundred percent.” He smiled. You knew he couldn’t wait much longer, not when he knew what effect he was having on you today. He could feel your wetness before he even came in contact with it.

Jungkook softly pressed his lips against yours. Each kiss grew longer and more intimate than the last, and there was an intense rhythm in the movement of your lips. The sensation of him against you filled your body with excitement.

You ran your hands up his chest and pulled him in close. His hot breath teased you as he left a trail of kisses along your neck. The tingling of him making his mark on you triggered a small moan from your mouth. You took a peek and caught him smirking and admiring the tiny pink spot he left on your skin.

He pulled from his t-shirt and the sight of his bare chest made you blush. Of course you had seen it many times before, but it was the first time in this context. Then you felt him grasp the hem of your shirt, looking at you for confirmation.

“Is this okey, princess?” That was the first time he was calling you like that. Princess. It sounded good. Still blushing, you nodded as he lifted the shirt over your head and tossed it to the edge of the bed. You saw him shift his eyes to your exposed chest, biting his lip to hold in his lust for you.

“You don’t have to be shy, okay?” He spoke in his low and soothing, yet very sensual voice. He tucked your hair behind your ear and entwined his fingers with yours once more.

“Okay,” you smiled back.

He slowly moved his hand down your waist to your inner thigh while licking one of your nipples. Each time he squeezed your thigh, you felt a heated sensation growing between your legs. You squirmed around to kick all lingerie, until you were completely vulnerable to Jungkook’s eyes.

“Fuck… you were prepared?” He asked, wondering why you were not wearing any shorts and a lingerie thong.

“Maybe…” You were not prepared for this situation in particular, but you never know when something can occur. You wanted to kiss your past self for packing this set.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he replied, continuing to slide his hands up your thigh and closer to the sensation where you felt hot and wet. Just before he reached the spot, he paused to give you another warm, delicate kiss. He ripped off your panties in a second.

“Jungkook! They were new!” You said, amused.

“Princess, I’ll take you on a shopping day and buy ten of these,” he said.

As his lips kept you calm, he snuck a light pair of fingers between your legs. His fingers glided up and down with such ease. You arched your back when he brushed against the center of your pleasure. You hadn’t even realized how needy you were for his touch until a loud moan escaped your mouth.

“Jungkook…” You whined desperate for him. You’d been fantasizing for years about what he must feel like and now you were so close to having what you dreamt of.

He put in a bit more pressure and speed as his fingers circled your center over and over again. “You like that, princess?” He asked, while you felt the pleasure building up quickly.

“K-kook…” At the sound of your desperate cry, he slid two fingers inside you and began curling them in and out at a frustratingly slow pace. Immense waves of pleasure consumed your body as he continued to touch your most sensitive areas. “Faster please…”

“Torturing you is like torturing me,” He sighs. “Fucking wet.” You clenched around his fingers as you let out another loud moan, trying to keep yourself from cumming so fast.

“You like that, baby?” He teases you, his face decorated with a proud smirk as his fingers move faster than before. Almost screaming, you felt your orgasm come through while you suppressed your moans with a hand in your mouth.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” you had very little time to recover though, as Jungkook stood back up, turned you around and pushed you down onto the matress.

Leaving a rough slap against your ass cheek, he pulled himself out of his pants sliding his dick along your folds to collect your cum on him. “Fuck, so wet for me, baby.”

He introduced his tip in your folds, waiting for you to get used to the feeling. “Does that hurt? You’re fine?” He asked you, and you chuckled at his reaction.

“I’m alright here, you can start moving.”

He didn’t take long to start fucking into you at a ruthless speed, hands on your hips, the euphoric expression written on his face turning you on even more. His head fell back as he let out a low moan. He smirked as he landed another firm slap to your ass before he griped you shoulder.

“K-kook they will hea-hear us,” you said in between muffled moans without a doubt in your mind that your moans could be heard throughout the hallway.

Your arm coming up to rest on the bed to help you support yourself. He let go of your shoulder and moved his hand around to your clit, his nimble fingers moving against you in rhythm with his dick.

His throaty moans keep sending electric shocks through your body and within long you can already feel yourself building up to your second orgasm of the day.

“God…. You feel so good,” you moan against his lips, his tongue tracing your lover lip before he gently bites it. He hums in response.

He hums in responds. “You’re so fucking gorgeous like this,” he praises you, his hand brushing away a lose strand of hair from your forehead.

Upon hearing his words, your walls clamp down around him and he falters for only a second from the feeling before he picks up the speed slightly.

His hips are slamming against yours, his length ramming in and out of you as your back arched off the bed, your hands grasping whatever they can hold on to.

You were both moaning loudly as his thrusts got sloppier and rougher, the pulsing of your walls pushing him over the edge only seconds after you.

“I’m gonna cum baby! Fuuuuck!” Jungkook groans above you and you can feel as he releases inside you. His pace slows down but he keeps pumping in and out of you until he’s sure you both rode out your orgasm.

Jungkook fell forward, right above you as he slowly and gently kissed down your back, riding out his high.

He eventually pulled himself up and out of you before helping you back up. He situated himself back into his pants as you readjusted oversized t-shirt.

“You did so good for me, kid,” he softly pressed his lips to yours, one hand on your waist as the other caressed your cheek softly.

The first thing you felt in the morning was heat. You were drenched in your own sweat, and the thin sheets that were draped around your body clung tackily to your skin.

As you listened to Jungkook’s steady breaths, you meandered through the events of last night. The weight of his arm slung loosely around your waist was comforting. You chuckled, remembering last night.

“What’s funny?” Jungkook mumbled groggily, his arms tightening around you. You lifted your head, looking up at him.

“Morning.” Your mouth spread into a smile.

“Good morning, kid.” He ruffled your hair lazily, running his finger through the wild strands.

The peaceful atmosphere didn’t last long. A shrill knock on the door shattered the stillness, making you both freeze.

“Shit,” Jungkook whispered, instantly alert. He sat up, his bare chest gleaming in the morning light. “Who the hell is that?”

You didn’t have time to answer before the knock came again, louder and more insistent. Panic surged through you as you scrambled out of bed, tugging on a pair of shorts over your underwear.

“Jungkook, you can’t be here. They’ll kill us if they find out.”

He shot you a quick glare, already pulling on his discarded shirt. “I know, okay? I’m trying to figure out how to sneak out without a parade waiting for me outside.” He stated, annoyed.

The sound of the door handle turning made your heart stop. You grabbed the nearest object—a hairbrush—and held it like a weapon, ready to face whoever dared to intrude.

The door creaked open, revealing your mom and Jungkook’s.

Her eyes widened as they darted between you and Jungkook, who was awkwardly trying to zip his jeans while hiding behind the door.

“Wha-what’s going on here?”

Before you could think of an excuse, Jungkook’s mom appeared behind yours, looking equally suspicious. Both moms stared at each other for a long, loaded moment. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, they exchanged a knowing look and stepped back.

“Take the back stairs,” Jungkook’s mom said, her voice calm but stern. “No one’s awake yet.”

You and Jungkook nodded fervently, like children caught stealing cookies. As Jungkook slipped out the back, you exchanged a glance with your mom.

“Don’t think I’m letting this slide,” she warned, but there was an unusual softness in her eyes.

And with that, she turned on her heel and left, leaving you with nothing but the lingering embarrassment—and a lingering warmth from the night before.

Since that day, you hadn’t seen Jungkook.

The morning after that unforgettable night, he had slipped out quietly, leaving behind a soft kiss on your forehead. He promised to see you before the end of your vacation, but the last day came, and Jungkook was gone. His sudden departure was blamed on a last-minute dance practice he had to attend, and while he responded to the one message you sent him, his replies were distant and curt.

you

kook have you arrived yet? read, 18:34

kook? read, 20:40

Days turned into weeks, and the excitement of what had happened between you two began to feel like a distant memory, replaced by lingering questions. Was it a one-time thing for him? Had you misread his intentions?

Months later, an unexpected invitation arrived: two front-row tickets to BTS’s concert in your city. It was addressed to your family, sent with love from Jungkook’s mother, and you weren’t sure if it was his idea or hers. Either way, the thought of seeing him again made your heart race.

The night of the concert, your family and you arrived early with backstage passes. Walking through the bustling corridors filled with staff and crew, you felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement. It wasn’t long before you spotted Jungkook’s mother, her kind smile instantly putting you at ease.

“Darling” she exclaimed, pulling you into a warm hug. “It’s been too long.”

You returned her embrace, feeling a flood of nostalgia. “It has. How have you been?”

“I’m well. But you… you look lovely,” she said, stepping back to examine you. Her gaze softened as she added, “You and Jungkook remind me so much of me and his father when we were young.”

Your breath hitched at her words. “Really?”

She nodded, her expression wistful. “The way he talks about you, the way he looks at you… It’s the same way my husband looked at me when we first fell in love.”

The mention of love made your chest tighten. “Well, he’s been distant lately,” you admitted, unable to hide the sadness in your voice, “you know… since the incident, yeah.”

She placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Give him time, he’s being dumb now. If it’s meant to be, it will work out.”

Before you could respond, a loud commotion signaled the arrival of BTS. The members spilled into the room, their energy infectious as they greeted your family with enthusiasm.

“Look who’s here!” Taehyung called out, grinning as he pulled you into a quick hug. “It’s good to see you again!”

The others followed suit, each greeting you warmly. They joked, teased, and chatted as if you were part of their family, making you feel at ease despite the tension simmering beneath your calm exterior.

And then, he walked in.

Jungkook appeared in the doorway, dressed in baggy jeans and an oversized white BTS t-shirt that hung effortlessly on his frame. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and he looked better than you remembered.

“Hey,” he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. He greeted your family with polite smiles before his gaze found yours.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his tone low but firm.

You nodded, following him as he led you to his dressing room. The door closed with a soft click, and the silence was heavy.

“Why didn’t you call me back?” you blurted out, unable to contain your frustration any longer. “I called, I texted, and you barely responded. Do you have any idea how that felt?”

Jungkook sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I’m sorry. Things got… complicated. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Complicated?” you repeated, your voice rising. “All you had to do was talk to me. Instead, you left me wondering if I meant anything to you at all.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he was struggling to find the right words. Finally, he stepped closer. “You mean everything to me and that’s the problem. I’ve never felt this way before, and it scared me. I thought pushing you away would make it easier, but it didn’t. It made it worse. And your brother he…”

You blinked, his confession catching you off guard. “Kook, you let me have the talk with my brother. We’ll figure it out.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’m sorry for being an idiot. I know I hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. If you’ll have me.”

Your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice. “You’re really bad at this, you know?” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He laughed softly, relief washing over his face. “Yeah, I am. But I’ll do better. I promise.”

You nodded, letting him pull you into his arms. The tension melted away as he held you close, his warmth grounding you in the moment.

“I have to go,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “But I’ll be looking for you in the crowd.”

And he did.

From your spot in the front row, you watched as Jungkook lit up the stage, his energy and passion unmatched. But every now and then, his gaze would flicker to you, and in those fleeting moments, it felt like the world belonged to just the two of you.

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mocchii-writes · 5 days ago

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can you do a thanos x reader (with slight dae Ho x reader) where they used to date before he became a rapper and did drugs and she’s the only person he ever truly loved. They break up because of the person he becomes and cut contact, seeing each other for the first time at the games. Thanos is keeping up his cool guy persona and flirting in a dickhead way, but then he sees her getting along with dae Ho (who likes her too) that cause thanos to actually be vulnerable with the reader in private, acting like he once was. up to you if you want to make it an angsty or fluffy ending

Well, all the stars would shine a bloody red

Paring: Choi Su-bong (Thanos) x fem!reader, slight Kang Dae-ho x reader

Summary: Seeing Thanos in the games after he changed for the worse, but he sees you too.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Brief mentions of prayer, mentions of drugs, swearing, death, squid game stuff

A/n: grr I'm not good with angst, I'm sorry if this sucks lol. Also, it came out way longer than I expected, so sorry for that ♡

~🍡🍡

The world seems blurry around Thanos. The leaves on the ground are nothing more than a distraction from your face. His heart beats faster as you smile at him, telling him some story he can't remember. The park is nice, a cool breeze ruffling your hair slightly.

His hearing is the first to go, and your voice becomes incomprehensible murmurs as the world slowly darkens and shifts. He can't see you anymore, either, and his vision soon blackens like an exposed film. Soon, the darkness is replaced by blaring lights as he opens his eyes.

Oh.

He sits up, his loose shirt clinging to his damp cold sweat. Why had he dreamt about you? It was so long ago, but he knew he'd never recover. His mattress always feels empty, now. No matter what girl is in it, it's always empty. You were so perfect, how could he have lost you?

It doesn't matter anymore, and he knows it. His life is better now. He just needs to keep saying that until he can wake up and feel like an entire person. But for now, he's just a husk, and he knows it. He'd never admit it, though. He can hardly admit it to himself. He knows he's changed. He wishes he could say for the better, but fame does something to a person. He still remembers that day.

He was high all the time, at clubs or concerts, hardly home, and hardly himself. You had spoken to him a week or two ago, telling him you were worried.

"Please, Su-bong." You had whispered. It was the first time you had gotten to speak to him in a while. "Why are you doing this? Why are you changing so quickly? So harshly?" He thought you were going to cry. So did you. Your hand rests on his arm. But he, for some fucked up reason, brushed you off.

"Chill, man. I'm not changing, I'm living my life. Why can't you just let me? Be happy for me?" He shoves your hand away. "I have a signing soon, see you later," he dismissed you.

That night, though. He should've been able to tell you were different. Your demeanor was cold and dry. But he couldn't even recognize himself, so you expected nothing more. You were sitting on the couch, arms crossed, zoning out into the ceiling. He stumbled in, clearly high off his mind. He had hickeys. You don't care, at this point. You can't remember the last time he even hugged you, but you stopped trying a while ago.

"Hey, Baby," he muttered, taking off his jacket. He walked over and sat next to you, turning on the TV.

"Do you know what day it is?" You calmly asked. You were prepared for this. You already knew what he would say, he didn't even deserve the benefit of the doubt, but you still asked him anyway.

"Happy anniversary." He'd said, dismissively, switching the channel. You scoffed, focusing your eyes on him. You stood, and he looked at you, almost annoyed.

"You're not yourself." You say, biting your lip, trying not to break.

"What? Flower, I thought we were past this." He groaned. You didn't say anything. You just grabbed your phone and walked to the door.

"Talk to me when you can remember my birthday." You said, slamming the door. He didn't comprehend it at the time, passing out after a while.

But he does now.

He can't take it. He lost all his money, unable to blind himself anymore. He rarely dreams of you, but it hurts more each time he does. He was stupid. He is stupid. He's never felt for someone like you since then. He stands, defeated, and heads outside.

He's not proud of what he plans to do, but he is confused when a man in a suit approaches him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You have to squint your eyes to get used to the bright florescent lights in the strange room you find yourself in. You panic, but only briefly, before remembering the Ddakji, the small card, and the ominous car you entered.

You take a moment to assess your situation but don't get very far. There are many different kinds of people around you, seemingly in the same situation. You wear identical tracksuits with different numbers and are surrounded by strategically stacked metal bed frames. You then notice the violin music playing from seemingly nowhere and everywhere, and you finally stand up.

Many people join you as the crowd looks confused. Until a buzzing sound is heard, cutting off the peaceful music, as large doors at the front of the room open, and people in bright pink uniforms walk out. One starts talking about games, money, and lots of things that would normally interest you (or any other sane person), but your attention has drifted elsewhere, your world stopping in its tracks.

It's not like he's difficult to notice. His hair is still that stupid purple, and he still seems to carry himself with a sense of arrogance, but you almost wish you hadn't seen him, as memories come flooding in of the life you still sometimes mourn.

You barely begin to think of him in a positive light before your thoughts are interrupted by his voice, proving your hopes wrong. "What's with these shoes?" You roll your eyes as you watch the back of his head. "My shoes are limited fucking edition, they're hard to find." He whines. "You going to replace them if they get ruined?" Nice to know his priorities haven't changed. Your dread doesn't fade when other people begin asking questions. You almost get on your knees and pray, right there, that he doesn't see you. Instead, you decide to focus on more important matters and listen to the guards' answers.

One particularly whiny guy pushes a little too hard, and his name and number are soon ominously announced by the guard speaking, followed by his debt, age, and history. You refrain from smiling as a video is played on a large screen of him playing Ddakji and presumably losing. More videos are played, thankfully none of you, but there is one of Thanos, sadly without him getting slapped. The pink guard then continues speaking, offering a chance at a better life, or so he says. It's not like you have very many options, though.

The lights turn off as you watch a clear piggy bank lower, grabbing your interest. Even more when a prize of 45.6 billion won is announced. It's not like you have many options. So, when lines are formed, you sign the paper.

Eyes naturally trailing to Thanos, you notice him fussing with the whiner from earlier. You can't hear what they're saying, but you resist the urge to scoff at his immature behavior. He's nothing if not consistent, at least. It is kind of funny, though, watching him be pulled off of the guy.

You get your picture taken, ignoring a flight of fans to Thanos and an embarrassing moment to witness, and are led to an open, sandy area. You see an ominous-looking doll, but your thoughts are interrupted. "The first game is Red Light, Green Light."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

shit shit shit

What is this psychotic prison? You thought that 456 guy was crazy, high, or something other than honest! You know you don't have much time left. You glance up at the clock as it ticks down.

00:52

Well, fuck. You're going to end up like those people at the start of the game. Just another failure with no money or life dragged away before anyone could remember your name.

You can't distract yourself with that now, though. There are only a few people left (considering there are like 400 in total), and your position at this moment isn't the best. To make things worse, as soon as you hear that devilish singing, you're pushed. Hard.

Your body crashes to the ground, and you feel your leg bruising immediately. You struggle to stand up. You know you can't run anymore. The doll spins its head back around as your mind races.