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obsessedwrhys · 1 year ago

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ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Seven x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader is insensitive and an asshole since they're also a supe working at vought, your powers are the exact same as Deadpool (even the skin condition), mention about killing, death, gore, r-pe, n@zis?!?!, alcohol, some intimacy (?). Also reader is gn!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the boys <3

HOMELANDER

This man hates you so fking much

Has tried to kill you multiple times, he tried lasering you, tearing you in half and even throwing you into the sky but you just always manage to come back like the damn plague

Eventually he gives up trying to kill you and just had to deal with the fact you'll be kept alive... just temporarily though... he's still looking for ways to kill you

However, your powers gave you dozens of advantages when around Homelander.

He can be having a meeting about something serious and everyone would be listening to him due to their fear towards him, then there's you who'd be doing your own thing and just shout out unrelated things like "Donald Trump just blocked me on Twitter!! HAH!! SUCK IT CORNFLACKS!!"

Everyone turning to you with startled expressions while Homelander simply rolls his eyes before continuing his presentation.

You are a complete nightmare to the PR team, that's why for interviews or any events, you'll always be paired up with Homelander so he can keep you under control and stop you from saying weird shit that could ruin the company's image.

"So Deadpool, how does it feel being in the Seven working alongside Homelander? You've been working together for almost 3 years now" A reporter would ask as you two are surrounded by screaming fans.

"Like I'm in the twilight series, not because of the fantasy but because I'm still waiting for the part where he impregnates me—"

"O-kay! That's enough, just silly ol' Deadpool with those inside jokes"

"You can tell in this eyes that he wants to fuck me right now. HE'S GONNA FUCK ME!!" You shouted as you're being dragged away by him.

Obviously when you had found out about his relationship with Stormfront, especially her background, you had to say some shit about it. Not giving the slightest care about the fact he could be grieving over her death.

He'll be in his room standing in front of the window and you'd just storm in, being as loud as possible.

"I can't believe you dated a N@zi!! Is it because I'm Jewish?!" Which may or may not be true, nobody knows your origin.

He may hate your guts but if he ever needs someone to help him do some dirty work, you're the person for the job, you never ask why or how, which could be the only thing he likes about you.

"Y'know, maybe if you didn't have such a big mouth, you'd be tolerable"

"All the people I've slept with have said otherwise"

Compatibility? 50%

STARLIGHT

Before she joined the Seven, she had an image of what kind of person you were, she just didn't know it was this worse.

When you found out she used to work at this Sunday School Church, you just haaaaad to say something about it.

"So like, you say that prayer always works, but every night I pray for my hair to grow and it never does. Do you think God has me blocked? How do I get unblock?"

"Uh..."

You two surprisingly get along without one wanting to slice the other's throat, except sometimes the things you say can really piss her off. Which is why when the company assigned her a new costume, she was trying her hardest to avoid you, but you found out anyways.

"Holy shit Starlight! Nice costume, is this your Miley Cyrus breakthrough? Girl power!"

Insert her groaning out of annoyance.

Again, the second you discovered she was dating a guy behind the death of Translucent, you were heartbroken :(

"Of course this happens right when my therapist gives up on me!"

Despite your behaviour, you pitied her when it was revealed that she was taken advantage of by The Deep, so like any good friend, you took revenge by cooking his friend octopus and eating it happily in front of him.

"Revenge does taste sweet" You'd say happily while Starlight just watches by the side, both grateful and horrified at your actions.

In my opinion, you would definitely be the person she goes to once she starts working with the boys, you'll always be providing whatever information that happens in the company for her to use.

It helps her worry less about getting anyone killed 'cause you literally can't die.

Compatibility? 60%

QUEEN MAEVE

You're half the reason why she rethinks about her life choices when she wakes up in the morning

Not because you're a handful (which you are) but because you're always paired together on missions

"Deadpool! The hostages!"

"OKAY! God... you act just like my drunk uncle"

Which is a joke/nickname you like to address her by because of her alcoholism (yikes)

Whenever the company needs you for something, half of the time she's the one assigned to search for you.

There was this one time she caught you trying to have Anika track down Kanye West's location, nobody knows what shenanigans you were up to.

Another thing to mention was that you two were chosen by the company to sing a Christmas song for the year's Christmas ceremony.

Just imagine during the bridge of the song, she's singing normally while you're completely going off, your high note so high you were sure you had Mariah Carey a run for her money.

Even though she finds you a lot to deal with, you're actually her buddy to train with.

Since you're very skilled with Katanas, she likes to practice her swordsmanship with you.

You like to tease or make fun of her everytime she fails to strike you which is good motivation for her to get better. Maybe you guys bring out the best of each other?

Last thing I'd like to add is when she was found out by the public that she was a lesbian (She's bi but you get the running joke), you had gifted her a t-shirt that says, 'Biggest Dick in Town'

Compatibility? 80%

THE DEEP

Your human punching bag

If Vought was a high school instead of a company, you'd be the bully and he'd be the nerd getting stuffed inside the locker room.

For example, Homelander could be confronting Starlight about her relationship with Hughie and everyone would just start raising their voices til you come in yelling "SHUT UP!" to the Deep who had not said a single thing during the entire time.

Just imagine him staring at you like 😐

To be honest you also ate his friend octopus so you guys are actually never getting the chance to make up.

"Look dude, I don't appreciate your tone"

"I don't appreciate your haircut either but we can't all get what we want"

You may be a crazy person but you weren't going to be okay with the fact he violates every woman he sees, so not only did you cook the octopus but you also called in a male stripper disguised as a woman just for him to celebrate on his birthday.

Just imagine him all happy when you tell him the news and later that night he'll run inside your room, completely pissed off at your act after finding out but you just laughed and said.

"Happy April Fools 😚!"

"That's next month dipshit!"

Also, you never understood his weird fantasies. He has a thing for sea animals??You've caught him multiple times either flirting or getting off to one. It was concerning even for you.

"From how many animals you've fucked, you might just turn from the ocean's 'Seaman' to 'Semen'." You joked which he did not find funny.

Maybe you messing with him could just be your way of getting along with him since you're the same with everybody else, it's just he has more flaws to poke fun of and he's sensitive about them.

Compatibility? 5%

A-Train

He thinks you're fucked up in the head.

Half of the shit that comes out of your mouth just has him reacting like in the GIF

Buuuuuut you're the one he always brings to the club because you always know ways to give the party life.

You've somehow even got on the wall of fame, a lovely portrait of you with your hands making out a heart.

Also, you know about his business with Compound V waaaaay before anyone else did. He's still grateful you didn't tell anyone.

Just like everyone else, you also enjoy messing with him except he's fast and constantly avoiding you.

"Hey A-Train, how much do you wanna bet that I can die faster than you?"

"Dude... seriously?"

You guys rarely get sent on missions together because you're always slowing him down, not basing off the fact he's fast but because you get easily sidetracked with other things.

"Alright, we're here now, how much C4 do we use?"

"Fuck math! Let's use all of 'em!"

You ended up detonating all of the C4 on you before he could object the idea, he was able to run out in time, your action nearly getting him killed while you ended up dead.

But it's fine you'll just grow back.

You know that race he has against Shockwave? You'd be at the VIP section standing near where Homelander and Queen Maeve is, waving your huge banner that has a picture of A-Train's face and yours pasted over a figure carrying the other in bridal style.

Compatibility? 55%

TRANSLUCENT

He makes people paranoid but you make him disgusted.

There was this one time he was bored so he snuck in your room to see what you were doing.

At first he was confused why you had so many cute plushies but then the more he explored your room, he realised your room is basically every collector's dream.

You even had a huge teddy bear in the corner of your dressing room.

The reason why he doesn't like to spy on you is because the last time he did, he saw you putting your hand in the blender, then proceeding to put your private part into it.

Never again, he thought, never again.

He doesn't need to witness you carry out your intrusive thoughts.

Surprising enough, you're close with his son, I'd like to think that after his death, you practically became the kid's godparent. Though you can be sort of a bad influence, leading up to how he is in Gen V.

You always tell him you hate kids but he thinks otherwise.

After all, he can read people well.

You guys like to pull pranks on each other since you guys like competing on who's more sneaky

There was this one time, you woke up to find your suit gone so you ended up walking around the building, completely naked and unfazed by people's stares.

It was when you walked around the corner that you found your suit worn by someone else, turns out it was Translucent under it.

"Why is it so fucking tight dude? How do you stay in this shit all day?"

"You get used to it"

Compatibility? 85%

BLACK NOIR

Lovers.

He doesn't mind your attitude because he actually can't say anything about it.

No seriously... he can't talk.

But hey he's got a good shoulder to cry on.

"I just... hffgh... I can't believe my album didn't surpass lady gaga's... She doesn't even know how to use Katanas like I do!" You'd let out a loud sob while he just stares at you for a while before placing a hand on your shoulder, patting you gently.

You know the scene where he's playing the piano for one of the company's party? You'll be laying down on top of it and singing in your usual overdramatic high pitched voice.

He finds your humour amusing so he always does this little head tilt like in the GIF when you say some weird shit while waiting for his response.

Since both of you are the only members of the Seven that wears a full body suit, obviously you had to try on his but since it was impossible to achieve that, you just had the company make a copy for you.

He'll be walking down the hallway doing his normal routine until he notises another person in his suit, the moment you speak and he realises its just you is when he let's his guard down.

"I just got some transplants done to my ass, that's why I look different"

You both are never sent on missions together 'cause you guys don't work well, pretty much nobody works well with him since he's the silent type.

Example, you two were hiding behind some crates ready to jump on the bad guys who were snucking in illegal drugs. He gestured for you to wait as he went to check again, only to turn back to see you gone.

"Marry Christmas motherfuckers!"

He heard your voice shout and he found you standing on top of the stacked crates, machine gun in hand and began shooting aimlessly.

He didn't even do anything but just watch until you ran out of bullets. However, multiple survived and began shooting at you so you ended running towards where he's hiding at.

"Yankee yankee!" You yelped.

You know the video of the two girls taking off their wigs to reveal that they're bald and they start bonding over it? I'd like to imagine that's you and Black Noir with the skin condition under the suits.

One more scenario I wanna add, you guys could be having a meeting but since you were bored and you always hated meetings, you'd draw a big heart on a piece of paper and show it to Black Noir from across the table. Surprisingly he'd draw a heart back to you.

You were overjoyed so you began to draw you and him doing it, doggy style. He stares at your doodle for a while before choosing to just focus on the meeting instead.

Compatibility? 90%

(This took a while cause I was on vacation)

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fyuyushia · 2 months ago

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"There's a reason why people don't stay where they are. Baby, sometimes, love just ain't enough" — Sometimes love just ain't enough.

Ex-boyfriend!Sung Jinwoo who you had to break up with due to the need to be realistic.

You didn't want to leave him, really. Especially after things just started going awry for him. His dad's gone missing, his mother succumbed to eternal slumber, never to awaken for who knows how long. With him being the sole breadwinner left to keep the family from falling into poverty, he had to drop out and work as a hunter despite only being an E-rank hunter.

He's struggling enough as is, so you wanted to keep yourself by his side. However as it stands, it just wasn't possible. Your mother despises him, your father pushes you to focus on your career and forget about your fleeting highschool romance.

"You've grown past that age now," he had said to you once during dinner. "Be realistic, you can't survive clinging onto a man who can't give you anything. Even worse since he's having you help pay things off. Where is his pride? No man would let the woman he loves work hard to make ends meet."

You wanted to refute, but you knew deep down his words rang true. Bags grew under your eyes due to overwork. Even if he didn't want you to, you couldn't help but want to help ease his burdens somewhat. However, this willingness of yours had resulted in your health deteriorating to a sickening point. Your once comfortable lifestyle became a distant memory, now wrought with debts and an alarming amount of bills to pay. You hated yourself for thinking this way, but it was the cold and bitter truth.

Not everything could be resolved with love alone.

Ex Boyfriend!Jinwoo who's absolutely devastated by the news when you break it to him but still greets you off with a smile. One last time, he takes you out to a meal in some obscure diner—one you always frequented with him whenever there was something to celebrate.

Offering to pay for the meal, he takes the remaining bill on his wallet, insisting that he should pay since he was the one who insisted. Jinwoo, your beloved Jinwoo—he was always shouldering everything, insisting on spoiling you despite always struggling to make ends meet. Small trinkets, flowers, even this run down diner—he'd spend every single dime on you and his family but never for himself. It was physically painful to tell him that, hated how you had to be realistic despite wanting nothing more to stay by his side.

When the night's over he takes you home, walking you to the station. You were quiet the entire time, unable to meet him in the eye. Guilt wracked up your nerves, rendering you unable to speak. He didn't deserve this—didn't deserve someone who'd give up on him when the going got tough. He deserved someone who'd stick by his side, lending him their shoulder especially on moments like this.

"Ah, right." Jinwoo halted in his tracks, reaching for something in his pocket.

You stop as well, tilting your head up a bit to see what he was doing. He furrows his brows, feeling around in search of something. He visibly lights up when he finally finds it, making you even more curious. You raise your head, twisting your body to face him entirely.

"Here," stretching out his arm, he offers a box to you. "A little something for you..."

You blink, surprised. You look at him for assurance, he nods in turn, urging you to take it. You gingerly accept it, holding the small box in your hand. Curious about what it held within, you open it.

A gasp leaves your lips, eyes wide in surprise. You stared at your hands and then to him, lips trembling. "This is..."

It was a necklace—one you adored but didn't have the guts to buy because of the amount. Using what little money you had, you chipped in on Jinah's tuition fee, forsaking the chance to get that necklace for yourself in favor of helping Jinwoo. You thought you wouldn't ever see it again—get to wear it even—but lo and behold.

He scratches the back of his head, a bit embarrassed. "I saw you eyeing it when we went to the mall before. I wanted to give it to you since it's our 4th anniversary. Am I being presumptuous?"

You look at him, disbelief etched on your features. You know full well how pricey it is, how did he even find the money to buy this?

"Jinwoo I—you didn't have to."

"I wanted to. I know being with me is difficult, I'm poor and I always come back home injured. I owe you this much."

You bit back a scoff, baffled by just how selfless this man could get. You wanted to say something, berate him for being so stupid and going through such lengths for you. Instead, all that left you was a broken sob.

Tears ran down your cheeks, unable to hold in the guilt that ate you from in to out. Your shoulders trembled, lips quivering as you wept. "You idiot."

Your heart felt heavy, crushing your body with its weight. The waterworks quickly ran, never ending once it began.

"I"m sorry, I'm sorry. Jinwoo I—I'm sorry."

Breathless murmurs left your lips, apologizing profusely to the man who fate saw fit to make suffer.

Stupid Jinwoo, always so considerate. Offering everything to you so zealously, he was far too naive. "Do you think I'd appreciate something like this? You dummy."

Jinwoo flinches, panicking at the sight of your tears. "Hey now, why are you crying? Don't cry, you know I don't like seeing you cry."

He gives you a small smile, bringing you to his arms to give you a tight hug. You only cry harder in response, aching for this man—for this unbelievably sweet man.

"It's okay. I'm sorry too, I know it was a nightmare being with me."

"Don't say that." You bury your face against the crook of his neck. Circling your arms around him, your hands grip the fabric of his sweater. "You were a blessing."

"Thank you." He pats your back, not minding the fact that you've stained his clothes with your tears. "But there's no need to deny it. I know I haven't been the best boyfriend."

"I would've preferred it if I could give you a comfortable life as well." He pulls you closer, rubbing comforting circles. "You deserve more than this life. You deserve a man who can provide you with anything you want, not someone like me who can barely give you anything."

"Shut up." You bawl, knuckles turning white from the sheer grip you had on him.

He laughs. "I'm sorry, I wasn't able to give you that kind of life even up to the very end."

Ex boyfriend!Jinwoo who lets you go all too easily, trying to not mind the aching pain that grew in his chest. He knew it was for the better, you deserved better than him.

He sees other couples out and about on the streets, wearing smiles free of worry. He envies them, longing for a time when he can make you smile so widely like that as well. He knows it in his head. He knows it well—too well it absolutely ruins him. You deserve more than run-down diners and cheap gifts. You deserve more than having to worry about the roof on your head, deserve more than having to skip meals just to save money. You deserved someone that wasn't him. At least, the him he was now.

Ex-boyfriend!Jinwoo who, after years finally had his life back together. His mother woke up, Jinah's tuition problem was solved and he had enough money to not worry about the roof over his head now. He's grown stronger, better than the him of the past.

Ex-boyfriend!Jinwoo who you meet again after years. Your life turned for the better shortly after leaving him as well, no longer burdened by the never-ending bills you once worried about having to pay. He's standing in front of you, taller, cooler, you had a hard time reconciling him with the Jinwoo you once knew.

You peer into his eyes, noticing the innocence that left his eyes. Your heart pangs, what horrors did he have to face to end up where he is now? You worry for him, but you don't say anything, afraid of overstepping. Did you still even have the right to worry? After leaving him in the dust, leaving him to fend for himself?

"Jinwoo."

He replies with your name, bluntly calling you as well. You spend a few seconds trapped in this moment, staring into his eyes that you loved getting lost in.

"it's been a while. Seems like you've been doing great lately, good for you."

He nods, allowing a smile to break on his lips. It was bittersweet, and through it did you see a glimpse of the past, the naive him that disappeared as he had to survive for the sake of himself and his family.

"Care for a walk?" He follows up with your name, murmuring it so softly you were immediately thrown back to the past.

"Maybe a cup of coffee too while we're at it, just like the good times."

Wait hold on my creative juices aren't stopping whoa. Watch me disappear of of the face of the internet for another month again after running out of reserves.

#solo leveling x reader #solo leveling x you #sung jinwoo x you #sung jinwoo x y/n #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #manhwa x reader #ᯓᡣ𐭩fyuyu's works

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marvel-spidey · 2 months ago

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Safe and Sound

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: After a difficult night on patrol, Matt comes back home feeling like he can't do it alone. Luckily, you're there to remind him that he doesn't have to. Inspired by the song "Safe and Sound", by Taylor Swift. You can listen to it here.

Warnings: Mentions of a mild panic attack. Besides that, just a lot of comfort <3

A/n: I've been rewatching Daredevil season 2 and this fic was created out of the pure and irrational urge that I have to protect and comfort this man at all costs. Also, this is my first time writing for Matt. Enjoy! - - - -

New York City felt different that night. Noisier. Louder. Matt sensed it the moment he went outside the rooftop exit of his apartment. Sirens wailed in the distance, coming from every direction, their urgency bleeding into the restless city. Screams, footsteps quickly pounding against the pavement. The sounds echoed off the buildings, rattling through the streets like a warning, setting him on edge before he even reached the ground.

He knew the city would need him that night. Nights like these reminded him why he did what he did, why he had to leave you behind, even though it crushed him every time. He knew you always waited up for him, no matter how many times he begged you not to. He knew you couldn’t sleep until he came back, because you worried, not just if he’d return in one piece, but if he’d return at all.

He hated the nights he came back hurt, knowing how scared you got at the sight of his bloody suit or the open cuts on his skin. He could always hear the trembling in your hands when you stitched him up, even though you tried so hard to hide it behind a reassuring smile. But he was so proud of you. You were getting good at this. And more than anything, he was grateful. Grateful that you were there every night, waiting for him. Grateful that, no matter how brutal the city was, he had a home to return to.

He went out that night, already anxious to return. To your touch, to your scent, to your voice, the few things that always brought him back when everything became too overwhelming.

You watched him disappear through the little upstairs window, whispering a silent prayer to whatever God was listening to bring him back safe. You did it every night.

Pulling your blanket up to your neck, you adjusted yourself on the couch and put on an episode of Friends, hoping it would distract you from the worry. It usually worked. When you started to doze off, you got up to make yourself a cup of tea, a way to keep your body moving before sleep fully took over. Some nights, it was exhausting trying to stay awake. But you did it anyway. Because you wanted Matt to know that when he came home, there was someone to clean his bruises, to stitch his cuts, to help him out of the suit when his body was too sore to do it himself.

After two cups of chamomile tea, countless Candy Crush matches and several Friends episodes, you were startled by the sound of heavy footsteps coming from the upstairs area of the apartment. You let out a quiet sigh, relieved that at least he was back. You shifted your body into a sitting position, ready to examine his every movement and assess how bad the damage was tonight.

You watched Matt come down the stairs in silence, his red suit reflecting the purple glow of the obnoxious billboard outside. You waited for the usual “I’m back, sweetheart” he always said to you, but tonight, there was nothing. Only the sound of his boots against the floor. You noticed that his head hung slightly low, shoulders tense, plump lips pressed into a firm line. Even with his helmet on, you could still see it, the tension in his face, the weight he carried.

Something was wrong.

He muttered a low “I’m back, you can go to sleep”, offering you a forced smile before crossing the living room and heading straight to the bathroom. He usually showered right after patrol, but tonight, your gut told you to follow him.

You slowly got up from the couch and made your way to the bathroom, bracing yourself for whatever you might have to deal with. You just hoped he wasn’t seriously injured and trying to play it off like it was nothing, because that wouldn’t be the first time.

Standing in the doorway, you quietly observed Matt in the dark bathroom. Only a faint neon light seeping through the small window. He stood at the sink, both arms braced against the counter, head hanging low. His breaths were deeper than usual, like he was trying to calm himself down. He was still in full gear, the red uniform clinging to his tired body.

“Matt”, you said softly, careful not to startle him. “Is everything alright, honey?”

He took a slow, deep breath, exhaling through his mouth before answering.

"Yes, sweetie," he replied, offering you another half-smile. "I'm okay. I'm just…" he paused, gripping the sink harder. "The city was so loud tonight. So many people needed help, and I- I couldn’t get to everyone. I couldn’t-"

You sensed his anxiety and immediately stepped into the bathroom, placing a gentle hand on the exposed part of his face, in an attempt to ground him. You had seen this before. He was overwhelmed and overstimulated, both by his heightened senses and his emotions.

"Hey, how about we take that suit off?" you suggested, gently guiding his face toward yours. "You'll be more comfortable." Slowly, you lifted the helmet from his head, feeling the heat of his skin, his body still in panic mode.

His hair was a mess, and you smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, the faint scratch of his stubble against your lips.

"There we go," you whispered as you pulled away. "Much better, isn’t it?"

He closed his eyes and took a breath again, unconsciously relaxing under your touch.

You helped him out of his boots and unzipped the rest of the suit until he was left in just his black boxers. Tossing the uniform onto the bathroom floor, you noticed his breathing was still heavier than usual.

You took the opportunity and scanned his body, looking for any possible injuries. “Are you hurt?” you calmly asked him, worried if there was something you were not seeing.

"Not tonight," he replied, lifting his right hand to gently cup your face. You realized he didn’t want to talk, not right now. He just needed to feel you, feel your warmth and your skin, something real to ground himself.

You kissed the palm of his hand gently, trying to give him the physical comfort he needed right now. You took his other hand and placed it on your heart, knowing he was probably already focusing on its rhythm anyways. He always told you he liked listening to your heartbeat, that the steady sound calmed him like nothing else.

“It’s okay, Matt. You’re here, you’re home” you murmured, hoping to help his body understand that whatever had happened out there was over now. His palm was warm against your chest, and you placed your hand over his. You watched as he closed his eyes again, trying to shut out the noise, both outside and inside his head.

"Is my heart beating fast or slow?" you asked, using the familiar tactic of simple questions to help pull him away from his anxiety.

“Slow”, he answered, with his usually velvety voice.

"Can you feel how warm my skin is?"

"Warm... and soft. As usual," he said, his large hand grazing your collarbone before trailing up to your neck. His sweet comment made you smile.

You took a small step closer, lifting your hand to trace the shape of his nose. With your index finger, you touched his forehead, then slowly ran it down the bridge of his nose until you reached the tip. You always did this when he couldn’t sleep, or when you just wanted him to feel relaxed. Now, you hoped the familiar gesture would help him relax enough to talk. As much as he seemed a little calmer, you still needed to know, what had happened tonight? What had left him so overwhelmed?

"Do you feel better?" you asked softly, still tracing his nose before slipping your arms around his neck.

"A little, yes. Thank you, sweetheart," he murmured, his hands settling gently on your waist.

"Did something happen tonight? You don’t have to go into details, but you know I can’t help but worry about you out there."

You recalled what he had said moments ago, how the city had been especially loud, with too many cries for help at once, and how he hadn’t been able to answer them all. You could already guess he was drowning in guilt, as usual, but you needed to make sure there wasn’t something more.

He directed his gaze somewhere close to your chin, taking a few moments before answering, trying to gather his thoughts into something that would make at least a little sense to you.

You placed a gentle hand on the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his soft hair, a silent reassurance that you were here, listening to whatever he had to say.

"The city was so loud tonight, (Y/n). It always is, but tonight... It was too much. Sirens, gunshots, screams, everywhere. Women screaming, children screaming, all at once. Every time I tried to focus on one direction, there was another cry for help pulling me somewhere else”

You felt his heart starting to race again, and you put one of your hands on his chest, trying to remind him that he didn’t need to continue.

"There was a woman getting beat up by her husband while her little boy watched, begging his father to stop," he continued, his voice heavy. Even as you noticed his hazel eyes glossing over with unshed tears, you knew he needed to let it all out. For once.

Tears began to slip down his face, and you reached up to wipe one away with your fingers. It broke your heart to see him like this.

"At the same time, there was a girl being dragged into an alley because... because some lowlife decided her bag and her body were his to take." His voice wavered, frustration and sorrow mixing in his expression as more tears fell.

You cried with him, heartbroken by all this weight he carried alone.

"How am I supposed to make a choice like that?" he asked, his voice cracking, though it felt more like he was questioning God than you. His face was soaked with tears.

"How am I supposed to choose who gets help and who doesn’t? Who lives and who dies? I’m just one man! I can’t decide that. I can’t."

"Matt," you interrupted softly, cupping his face between your hands. "Matt, listen to me." You wiped his tears away with your fingertips, though your own vision was blurred by your own.

"Yes, you’re just one man. A man that has the kindest, most selfless heart I have ever known. You risk your life for people you don’t even know, do you hear me?"

His body shook with silent sobs, his head hanging low as he finally let all of his guilt and sorrow spill out. It hurt to see him like this, but you knew it was necessary.

"Listen to me," you urged again, tilting his face up to meet yours. "You’re not out there to make impossible choices, you’re out there to do what you can. It is your purpose, and you already give more than your best. All these scars on your body? They’re proof of that, Matt."

This time, it was Matt who wiped your tears, his silent way of thanking you for saying what he so desperately needed to hear.

"I’m here every night stitching you up, disinfecting your wounds, icing your bruises. So if anyone can say that what you do is more than enough, it’s me, okay? Please don’t take this burden on alone, it's too much for anyone to carry."

Matt pulled you into the tightest hug, burying his face in your hair as if he could physically hold onto your words and make them real. You held him close, rubbing slow circles on his back until his breathing steadied and his tears finally slowed.

“It’s over now, okay? This night is over and you did the best you could.” You made sure to remind him, while smoothing his messy hair to the side. “I know, but.. even here, even now, I can still hear the city. It doesn’t stop.” His voice was low, exhausted.

You took one of his hands in yours, pressing a soft kiss to his bruised knuckles. "So what do you need from me, Matt?" you asked gently. "Tell me."

He was quiet for a moment, his free hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered for a second longer than usual.

“Will you sing to me?” he questioned shyly, facing you with the most loving look on his eyes. The request surprised you, but more than anything, you felt honored that he trusted you enough to ask for this.

"You know I love your voice," he added, while holding your chin. He was trying to make you feel less self-conscious, which he knew was how you felt every time he asked you to sing more around him.

You let out a small, fond sigh, while taking him by the hand. "Oh, what I wouldn’t do for you, Murdock… Come here."

You led him to your shared bed, climbing in first and urging Matt to follow. Noticing the exhaustion on his face, you felt reassured that bringing him to bed had been the right choice. You hoped to soothe him enough for sleep to finally take over.

“Come here,” you called softly, patting the spot beside you. You sat upright, your back resting against the pillows at the head of the bed.

Without hesitation, he lay down next to you, instinctively resting his head against your chest.

He inhaled deeply, taking advantage of the position to drown himself in your scent. He rested his arms around your waist and back, feeling the silky touch of your summer pajama set. You always made sure to wear clothes that were gentle on his senses.

“You comfortable?” you asked, making sure the position was good for both of you. You could already feel the weight of his muscles relaxing against you.

He only answered with a groan, indicating that he was so comfortable he didn’t even want to speak. Words felt unnecessary, just being there, feeling your warmth and steady heartbeat, was enough.

“What song should I sing?”

“Anything. I just want to hear your voice.”

You searched your mind for a song that could show him everything you felt, but could rarely say it to him. A melody that could show him how your heart ached in your chest every time he stumbled through that door battered and burdened, or every time he blamed himself because he wasn’t fast enough to save someone who needed his help. You wanted him to know that if you could, you would shield him from it all, the same way he so desperately tried to shield this city. He was always the protector, always the one worrying, always the one putting himself between the world and its darkness. You wanted to do the same for him, to take even a fraction of his pain, to be his refuge the same way he was for you and for so many other people throughout Hell’s Kitchen.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. Your fingers absentmindedly ran through Matt’s hair, feeling the soft strands beneath your touch. You knew he was waiting, waiting for your voice, for the comfort he had asked for but rarely allowed himself to receive.

So you sang.

I remember tears streaming down your face When I said I'll never let you go When all those shadows almost killed your light

Your voice was soft, a whisper against the noise of the city outside.

I remember you said don’t leave me here alone But all that’s dead and gone and passed tonight

You lowered your head, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead, a silent reassurance, a vow without words. His arms tightened ever so slightly around you, as if grounding himself in the warmth of your presence.

Then, softly, you continued into the chorus.

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down You’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now Come morning light You and I’ll be safe and sound

Your fingers traced soothing patterns along his back, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breath. His grip on you loosened just a little, the tension in his muscles melting away with every note that left your lips. You felt Matt’s lips press against your collarbone in a quiet, wordless thank you.

Don’t you dare look out your window Darling, everything’s on fire The war outside our door keeps raging on

You continued, raising your hand to caress the stubble on his face, tracing every line of his features. It wasn’t often that you got to admire him like this, without the bruises and blood demanding your attention. Just him, safe in your arms.

Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, down to his jaw, committing every inch of him to memory. The way his eyelashes fluttered slightly at your touch, the way his lips parted just the slightest as he melted further into you.

For now, he wasn’t Daredevil. He wasn’t a hero burdened with impossible choices. He was just Matt, your Matt. And you would hold him for as long as he needed.

Hold on to this lullaby Even when the music’s gone Gone

The steady rhythm of your fingers through his hair guided him away from the chaos of the city.

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down You’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now

At this point you realized he was starting to drift off to sleep. You adjusted the blankets around the two of you, making sure his exposed back was covered. You felt the rise and fall of his chest begin to slow, the tension in his shoulders finally melting away beneath your touch. His arms remained around you, looser now, more trusting, like his body had finally surrendered to rest.

Your fingers found their way back to his hair, lazily brushing through the dark strands as your song faded into silence. Outside, the city murmured like it always did. Distant sirens, cars, honks, but in your shared little world, everything was still.

“You still with me?” you whispered, not expecting an answer.

No answer. Just his breath, calm and deep. He was finally asleep. You looked down at his peaceful features and smiled with a tenderness that welled up from the deepest parts of your chest.

“I’ve got you, Matt. Always.” you leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, like sealing a promise with your lips.

You then rested your head back against the pillows, your arms still wrapped around him. His warmth and his scent lingered in the air around you, grounding you just as you had grounded him. Outside, the familiar sounds of Hell’s Kitchen filtered through the windows. You hated it for all the ways it hurt him. You loved it for all the ways it had led him to you.

With his steady breath against your skin, the weight of him safe in your arms, you finally let yourself close your eyes.

For now, he was here. For now, he was safe. And that was enough.

Thanks for reading! Feedback and comments are always welcome! ❤️

#matt murdock #daredevil #matthew murdock #ddba #ddba spoilers #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x you #matt murdock comfort #matt murdock fluff #daredevil x reader

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prael · 3 months ago

Text

Conciliation

ILLIT Moka x Yunah // part 2 to Punishment

words: 6,035 Masterlist

Two weeks have gone by. Two weeks since the incident in their dorm room. For Yunah, it's as though that night never happened. It was just some afterthought that had been shoved down in the deep corners of her memory, as though she would sooner forget and have Moka pretend it was nothing at all.

Moka thinks of nothing else.

She thinks about it in her classes, daydreaming when she should be practising. Rehearsals have become a stop-start procedure, with everyone turning to Moka with the same question: are you okay? She feels so pathetic. Embarrassed at herself, but still thinking, wondering, wishing, that maybe tonight might be that night; that Yunah might snap at some point and give her just a single touch.

She's thought about doing it again, just the same way, touching herself while Yunah is around. Even the mere idea has Moka wet with shame. It would work, surely, it has to work. Then Moka talks herself out of it. Doing it again, trying to instigate a reaction, she may as well just confess, beg, and plead with Yunah. Admit that she likes her. Tell her just how crazy it makes Moka when she walks around the room in only a t-shirt and panties. When she shakes her hair loose out of a ponytail, her brunette hair cascades in the moonlight, looking so soft and thick, and Moka can't get over her.

They're on their way out of the country, for another big show. Another sleepless night spent travelling. Another opportunity for Yunah to glare at Moka when she's obviously not focused or too busy stumbling through her moves. Another opportunity for her to sit there, only her and her dirty, little thoughts.

There's a slight turbulence, enough to make the sleeping Yunah move in her seat, her head rolling to the side. She looks peaceful and beautiful. That same fringe she's so particular about always ends up in her eyes, so naturally, Moka wants to reach up and push it away, but she forces herself back, that's the last thing she wants; to wake her and look suspicious.

"Not sleeping?" A voice from the other side, makes Moka tear her eyes away from Yunah and find Minju. Minju gives a curious look at Yunah before returning her gaze to Moka.

"Can't sleep," Moka confesses with a sigh.

Minju doesn't reply at first, the look she is giving, makes Moka believe she is contemplating whether she should share or not. "Me neither. Keep thinking about tomorrow."

Moka hums a vague affirmative in response. She wants to appear agreeable and that she isn't preoccupied with the thoughts of someone else.

Minju gives her a wry smirk. "What about you? You keep spacing out."

Her question strikes a chord in Moka. For some reason, she can't deny it or lie about what's been going through her head, and even when she should probably deny it, Moka still finds herself talking about her. "Have you ever liked someone who hated your guts? Like so much it physically hurts," Moka can't help the questions slipping past her lips. It's pathetic really. She should know better, and she knows she's saying too much and too openly, but it's not her fault. She just can't handle it all, not for another minute.

"Are you saying there's a guy you like?" Minju asks, which at least offers Moka the reassurance that the others haven't realised what's going on; why else would she ask that? "You know we're not allowed to date anyone, Moka."

"I know, and I'm not going to date anyone, but I can still like someone, right?"

Minju laughs. "Yeah, you can do what you like," she replies while stealing another look at the older girl across from them, sleeping. "So why does he hate your guts then?"

"Well, I—"

Yunah sighs, breaking the conversation as the pair suddenly falls quiet. They freeze like deer caught in the headlights of a car as Yunah, shifts in her seat, adjusting her position before relaxing again. There is a relief between them, letting out a heavy breath at the realisation that their friend is still very much asleep.

"Lucky her," Minju finally says, shaking her head. "I can't wait for us all to be back in our hotel rooms and having some proper sleep." Minju sighs, turning back to Moka. "You were saying?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it, forget I said anything," Moka rambles. She finds herself silently cursing herself. If the truth of her desires slipped and spilt out, there's no telling what kind of trouble she would be in. But Minju looks at her in a strange sort of understanding, nodding and giving her a reassuring smile.

Moka returns the sentiment and lays her head on her friend's shoulder. Her heartbeat starts to slow down, and as time passes, sleep draws in, luring her into its clutches, and at last, her eyelids flutter shut.

It's 4 am and they're shambling into the hotel lobby, weary, eyes burning, muscles tired, with sore shoulders and legs.

"We've booked rooms for you all. We just went with the same arrangement as the dorm," the manager explains, sending Moka's heart crashing. She and Yunah. Of course. She nods weakly and trudges to the lift alongside her members.

Yunah opens the door, and Moka follows. They haven't spoken a word to each other. The moment the hotel door is closed, and Moka drops her bag on the floor, Yunah takes off her jacket, hanging it on a hook. Moka slips her shoes off, trying her hardest not to make eye contact.

"Moka?"

Fuck. Why couldn't she just walk past without saying anything? Moka's cheeks feel hot. Why now? She glances up, and the look she receives from Yunah doesn't give anything away.

"What's gotten into you? Are you sick?" She snaps, walking right up to her. A rough hand takes hold of her chin, forcing her face up and it shocks Moka so much that it knocks her off her axis for a moment.

There she is. Again. So close. It takes a moment, or three, to figure out what she even said. Moka goes to shake her head, but with her face being held so firmly in place, it's impossible. "No, I'm fine." She swallows. "Just a little nervous."

"Why are you lying to me?"

Her face is still gripped, she's forced to keep eye contact with her and she hates it. She hates that her skin prickles as Yunah's beautiful gaze pours down.

"Whatever," Yunah says incredulously, her hand holding Moka's jaw. Moka nods as best as she can and then she's released. She misses her touch the moment Yunah's hand is gone and she's left to drop her head. "We can't have you being distracted tomorrow. Just get it together."

The older girl retreats into the bathroom, closing the door and leaving a disgruntled Moka alone. She could scream, but instead, she swallows down her frustration.

Moka undresses and slips into her shorts and tank top. She flops onto the soft covers and waits. Curses and empty wishes run through her mind; her fist tightens into a frustrated ball and her eyebrows furrow. How is she supposed to do anything like this? How can she think about anything other than her?

Soon, Yunah returns, but all Moka gets from her is silence, nothing, absolutely nothing, and yet here she is, lying and waiting. Pathetic, it's downright fucking pathetic. She takes a deep breath and lets herself turn and stare at her back. "Yunah?"

"What?"

"Why did you make me feel good?"

"You talk about that like it meant something," Yunah responds, turning her attention away from her phone. Her beautiful hair fans out against the pillow.

"Did it?"

Yunah responds with her own question, "Did you want it to?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry." She turns her attention back to her phone, effectively dismissing her and the conversation altogether.

"Please—"

"Goodnight, Moka," Yunah bites. Her tone leaves no more room for discussion. No room for questioning.

Moka clamps her mouth shut, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. What more could she say? How many ways could she plead with her before it becomes demeaning? But the silence in her room makes the ache between her thighs feel unbearable and impossible to ignore.

It's nearly an hour later when Moka gives in, dipping her hands between her legs. She rubs against the front of her shorts and shudders as she teeters on the brink of losing her senses and giving in to her desires. But the bed shifts, the sheets move, and she stops.

Yunah rolls over and she looks at Moka, as though expecting her to do something, anything. The eye contact alone has Moka feeling so small and helpless.

"Do it," Yunah whispers.

"W-what?"

"I know you want to. These past weeks you've been so distracted. I know you're always thinking of it, of what happened, what I did. I see the way you look at me."

"I... I'm sorry."

Yunah rolls her eyes. "Just do it."

"But you hate it. It makes you uncomfortable, I can't—" Yunah cuts Moka off as she moves closer, she slips her fingers past the waistband of Moka's shorts, down to the wet warmth of her cunt. "Yunah," she whimpers. Moka bites her lip to hold in the noises, but it's impossible to stay silent as Yunah runs teasing touches over her lips, threatening to slip between them.

"You can't do it, can you? Not on your own, not since I've touched you." She says it so plainly that Moka can't help but agree. She knows the truth. "But you don't want to ask for my help because you know I'll just say no. So here I am, doing it for you." Yunah's finger slides between Moka's lips and runs up to her clit. It makes Moka gasp. "Think about why that is. Why would I want to help you?" she murmurs as her fingers circle the hard, little nub.

"I don't know." The words are barely audible.

"I think you do," Yunah says and then her fingers go away.

"No, don't stop."

"I know it's hard, Moka," Yunah whispers. Her fingers are back. They're running through the lips of Moka's cunt, sliding easily, making the skin slick and sensitive. Moka can hardly think as the fingers run up and down, stroking and teasing, edging closer to the opening. "But I need you to say it."

"Because," Moka chokes out. Her head is spinning, and she feels so dizzy. She can hardly form a single thought. All she knows is how good she feels, how desperate she is for those fingers. "You like making me feel good. Because you want it just as bad."

"Because I want it, Moka," Yunah whispers, pushing a single finger into Moka's tight entrance. It sinks in so deep and she moans. She's so fucking sensitive. The feeling of the finger as it enters and stretches her, the feeling as it curls inside, the way it moves slowly and deliberately, is enough to have her trembling. Yunah has to lean in and put her mouth by Moka's ear. "I can't get the fucking thought of you out of my head."

"Oh god."

The words have the desired effect and Yunah's hand moves faster, the thrusts come harder and Moka is completely helpless. Her body starts to arch, her back rises off the mattress and her chest is pulled upwards as if offering herself to the other girl. Her little chest rises, her nipples hardening under the material of her top. Yunah looks at her body and smiles. She pushes a second finger inside, her thumb begins to work her clit and Moka's hands are holding tight to the pillow behind her.

Moka doesn't care that she's moaning, or that she can't stop saying her roommate's name. All that she cares about is how her body is starting to clench, how her hips are bucking and how her legs have gone so rigid, and it's just the best feeling, the best thing that she's ever experienced in her life. Moka opens her eyes and finds Yunah staring. Her face is so close; Moka wants her closer.

She has the overwhelming desire to taste Yunah's lips, but not the strength to pull her down, so she settles for the fingers inside of her and the hand that keeps working her cunt until the orgasm comes.

Moka pulls the pillow tight around her head, muffling the sound that spills from her mouth. She feels her walls tightening around Yunah's digits, her entire body clenching and shaking, and her eyes rolling back. She's so close.

Yunah climbs over her, kneeling between her slender thighs and her fingers never leave. They're so deep. The pressure is too intense. She feels the walls inside of her start to tighten, the heat growing inside her. Moka's head turns and buries into the pillow she holds onto for dear life.

"Look at me, Moka," she coos, leaning into her. "I said look at me."

Yunah takes Moka's hand, prying it away from the pillow. Powerless to resist, Moka's arm is pushed above her head, and then the other. They're placed together, held under Yunah's grasp and Moka's head is free and forced to look at the beautiful woman on top of her, forced to see those deep brown eyes and that gorgeous hair, that pretty face with the full lips, the perfect lips, the ones Moka wishes were pressed against her. But that would be too much. Moka would never want anything more ever again. If she kisses her then it's game over, all she would ever need would be right here. Moka could never think about anyone or anything other than her, ever again.

Moka's stomach tightens, and her face contorts. She lies there helplessly as she is overcome, and the climax hits. She can't help it. She's moaning so loudly and she's clenching around Yunah's fingers. Her legs shake and her arms try to pull themselves away, to have something to cling to. But she can't move. All Moka can do is give into the pleasure. It washes over her, the sensation coursing through her body, making her toes curl.

She leaks messily onto Yunah's hand. The sounds of wetness fill her ears, the lewd, squelching noises as the fingers continue to work her pussy, fucking her through the high and prolonging the sensation until her mind blanks, her body convulses and her voice breaks into a pathetic whine. Moka's head thrashes back and forth, and she's crying, sobbing out loud.

She's left panting, chest heaving as she looks at Yunah who's smiling. That beautiful smile, the one she loves to see.

"You're so pretty when you cum, Moka." She says it most sweetly, and her eyes seem so sincere. Moka wants to kiss her more than ever, and she wants Yunah to feel good too, just like she did. But her body feels like jelly and she can barely move. So she can only lay there and try to catch her breath.

Yunah lowers, laying her head on Moka's chest, her ear pressing gently to her heart, as though listening to it. Her body still twitches and shakes and her legs remain spread with Yunah still nestled between them. Moka tries to calm herself, and she can feel Yunah's breathing slow and soften, her weight shifting on top of her.

"I'm sorry, Moka. For ignoring you, but I knew this would happen. I knew that once I gave in, I wouldn't be able to stop," she murmurs. Moka can only manage a hum in reply. She doesn't even understand what Yunah means, not really, she can barely understand her words. Yunah puts her hand on her waist and slips her own pyjama shorts over her hips and down her long legs. She kicks them off and they're left tangled up at the foot of the bed.

It's when Yunah raises her head from Moka's chest that Moka realises what's happening. Yunah slips her fingers into the waistband of her shorts, pulling them down and off of her legs and throwing them aside. Moka feels so exposed. She can't hide the fact she's blushing, that she's so nervous, that this is what she's been waiting for, what she's wanted.

Yunah pulls her own shirt over her head and throws that off the bed too, and now Moka's staring. Tight and toned. Perky. It's like she can't help but let her eyes roam. She's the most perfect girl in the world. Moka's hands reach up to her, running along the curves of Yunah's body, the smoothness of her skin. Her thumbs brush over her nipples, feeling them harden and rise.

Yunah sighs, and Moka wants to make her do that again. She wants to hear all her pretty noises, just like Yunah said she loved hearing hers. So, she sits up and her hands go around Yunah, holding onto her, bringing her closer. She's so tall. Moka's face presses into her chest and she breathes against her, feeling the heat and inhaling the sweet scent of her.

Moka is so nervous. So anxious that she will do something wrong. She has to force herself to lift her head and part her lips, to lean forward and place her mouth over the stiff, little peak on Yunah's breast. She sucks, pulling it in, feeling the way it moves, the way Yunah lets out a breath and the hand that comes up to her hair. Fingers run through her black locks, nails drag along her scalp, and Moka moves her head to the other, repeating the motion, sucking the skin, flicking her tongue over it and pulling it with her lips.

Yunah moans and the grip tightens, she holds her head, and the other arm wraps around Moka. Reassurance in the form of a touch. It tells her she's doing well, that Yunah's liking it. That's all that matters. Moka wants her to like it, she wants to please her, and she wants to know how to make her feel good. She smiles against her smooth skin, placing kisses, licks, and bites all over her. Appreciation for this girl and her beautiful, wonderful body.

Then Moka finds herself lying on her back. Yunah climbs on top of her and Moka's heart thuds hard against her chest. This is everything she's wanted.

"Don't freak out," she whispers, her breath against Moka's face.

"Never."

Yunah shifts her weight and then Moka feels it, the wet heat of Yunah's cunt against hers, and the sensation of her body on hers. Moka looks down at their bodies and can see the point of their connection, where their skin meets. The sight of it alone makes her mouth go dry, her stomach flips, and it takes all her strength to keep herself together. And then Yunah rocks her hips, grinding against Moka, her slick pussy rubbing against Moka's. The sensation of her skin moving, her wetness, it makes Moka's eyes roll back.

"Yunah..." Moka gasps, her body arching, and Yunah pushes her down.

She does it again, and again, sliding against her, pushing her hips hard. Her breathing is growing faster, and heavier, and her moans are so quiet. Sparks ignite in her lower body. The pressure, the heat. It feels so good to have Yunah against her like that.

Yunah leans down and buries her face in the crook of her neck and she kisses and nibbles at her skin there, whispering against the spot. "Why does this feel so good?"

"I don't know," Moka gasps. She's losing her breath already. She's panting and she feels so hot and dizzy, but in the best possible way.

Yunah can't hold back, she can't hide the fact that Moka makes her lose her control. This cute, petite little thing below her; with her innocent, big brown eyes, and her adorable smile, that makes Yunah want to melt, she's her weakness. Moka, who she heard so many times, night after night. Moka, who she's ignored and tried to put from her mind, but can't. And now she has her. She has her little Moka beneath her, squirming and panting and whining, and Yunah's hips can't help but rut down into her.

Yunah can't get enough of it. Moka's pussy feels so soft and warm against her own. The slick mess that grows between them, it's addicting. The sounds are even worse. She wants to make more. She wants Moka to scream.

All the confusion Yunah once felt has vanished, and in its place, a sense of belonging, a feeling that she has to do this. That she's supposed to be in this bed with Moka and no one else. She never understood it. She was scared to admit it. But now there is nothing else she could ever ask for.

Yunah takes Moka's hand, interlocking fingers and squeezing. It's reassuring, and Moka's grip on her hand is strong, it tells Yunah she's feeling the same way.

"Moka."

"Yes," Moka answers.

Yunah looks down at the younger girl. Moka's face is contorted with pleasure, her lips are parted, and she's breathing so hard. She's completely lost to her sensations, and the sight makes Yunah's heart flutter, her skin burns and her body feels weak. "Moka," she whispers again. This time Moka's eyes open, looking straight at her. Their gazes lock and their fingers squeeze. "I like you."

"I like you too." Moka's smile is the most beautiful thing Yunah has ever seen, it triggers an instinct to fuck her harder. Moka's hand snaps to Yunah's hip and holds her tightly. She's moaning louder now. She can't hide it.

The bed creaks, the headboard hitting the wall. The sheets become tangled. They're sweaty and panting, and Moka's moans grow more desperate by the second.

Yunah can't stop herself any longer. Her stomach tenses tight, her body is on the verge of breaking and she can't take much more. "Moka," she calls her name, she's saying it so desperately. "Fuck, I'm going to cum." She can't hold on. Moka feels too good. Everything about this moment is perfect. It feels so right. Yunah can feel her own pussy twitch, she's getting closer to that edge. She can hear Moka whine, she's almost there. She wants Moka to finish. She needs it. "Cum with me."

"I want it, please Yunah. Please make me cum."

Yunah grinds harder. Moka's moans are so pretty. They fill her ears and they're the only sound in the room. They're music, they're the most perfect thing she's ever heard and the best song Moka has ever sung.

Yunah feels Moka's fingers tighten on her hip as she bucks her own up to meet Yunah's thrusts, and the sensation overwhelms them both. They cling to each other, both bodies trembling as the climax washes over them. Moka cries out, and it's loud. She doesn't even try to muffle herself as she squeezes Yunah's hand, and her hips jolt against hers. Yunah's face buries itself in Moka's neck, groaning into the skin, kissing, biting and sucking as the heat consumes her and her mind blanks, the pleasure takes over.

They lay there for what feels like forever, panting, their hearts thumping in their chests, the sound filling their ears.

It's then that Yunah looks up, pulling her head away. She looks down at Moka. Moka, her Moka, staring back up at her with her big eyes. The most gorgeous girl she's ever met. Her skin is so smooth and flawless. Her little nose, her cute lips, and the black, messy hair splayed on the pillow behind her, framing her face like a painting.

"Moka."

"Yunah."

Yunah leans down, pressing their foreheads together and Moka smiles, she can feel it against her face. Their breaths mingle and their hearts are so close, and Moka is holding onto her.

"I shouldn't have," Yunah pants, "shouldn't have lied to myself. Shouldn't have tried to ignore this."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not okay." She can feel Moka's lips brushing against hers. They're so close. It's just a little movement to close the distance between them, but Moka does it. She pushes her head up, and then Yunah's lips part. She kisses her and Yunah can't help but kiss her back, her tongue slipping into her mouth. Their tongues swirl and slide. Moka moans against her lips. The sound sends shivers down her spine. And Yunah wants her. She wants her so bad.

Moka is panting when Yunah breaks the kiss.

"It's okay now," Moka whispers, her breath ghosting over her. Yunah feels so weak. She's completely helpless.

"I think we need to talk about some stuff. But not now, not right now."

"No, not now," Moka replies with a giggle, leaning up and stealing another kiss.

Yunah gives her a lazy smile, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. She rolls onto her back, lying next to Moka, their legs still half-tangled. They lie in a comfortable silence. It feels so natural and normal as if it were always supposed to happen, that they were always meant to end up here. Yunah turns and looks at her, watching Moka stare at the ceiling.

"Is it weird that I want to do it again?" Yunah asks.

"Probably," Moka answers. She looks at her, grinning, "But so do I."

Thirty minutes later and Yunah finds herself mounted over Moka's face.

She's on her knees, straddling the girl, and the tip of her tongue is tracing patterns against her cunt. She's writing out love letters with her tongue. Signs her name on her clit and makes her legs shake.

Yunah braces, flat-palmed against the wall and throws her head back as she cries out Moka's name, grinding her pussy against the tongue. Sensitive and overused, yet still she wants this. She has to. It's not an option at this point. She's going to ride her until she can't possibly take anymore.

There's no coming back from this. There is only this, them, this room. The whole world has fallen away. It doesn't matter.

Moka is all that matters.

The warm tongue pushes past her lips and sinks into the soft heat, tasting her from the inside. She's moaning into Yunah's cunt, sending the most beautiful vibrations against her and Yunah is so fucking sensitive. Her thighs are shaking and she feels weak, she's struggling to hold herself up, but she can't bring herself to get off her.

"Your tongue, fuck," Yunah moans. The wet tongue laps at the mess, licking up her slick. Yunah can feel Moka swallowing, gulping her down, her little noises growing louder as she feasts. She's going to cum all over that pretty face. She's going to ruin Moka's perfect features and make them shine. Yunah is so close. She can't stop herself from thrusting forward. Her pussy is aching for more, throbbing as Moka eats her. She needs this, wants this.

"Moka... I can't stop, please don't stop," Yunah pants, pushing herself back onto her. Moka grips Yunah's thighs and digs her nails into them. "Fuck!" Yunah squeals. Her hips jerk forward. It's happening. It's too much. Moka's tongue won't stop, it swirls inside of her, and Yunah's legs are trembling.

Her thighs close tight around Moka's face, trapping it between her legs and her back arches, her mouth open, her voice hoarse and broken as she cums, and the walls inside of her clench tight.

And Moka is still eating her out. Yunah can feel the hot mess dripping from her pussy. She feels so sensitive. She can barely stand it, and her body twitches and spasms, and her heart pounds so hard. Her mind blanks. She's so tired, her body aching and exhausted, but her pussy still wants more.

"Yunah," Moka calls to her, patting her thigh and bringing her back from the brink of collapse, "Yunah, I can't breathe." Her little, muffled pleas have her snapping back to reality, realising that Moka's face has gone bright red. Yunah shifts, and she watches the way the girl gasps for air.

"Fuck, Moka." Yunah climbs from her and collapses beside her, chest heaving, sweat coating her skin. "Are you alright?"

Moka doesn't respond at first. She lays there, taking a breath and then she's turning, moving and climbing onto Yunah. "More than alright."

Yunah smiles at her, a sleepy smile that makes Moka blush, and she reaches up to push her black hair from her eyes. Her pretty little eyes are half-lidded and glazed, and her cheeks are rosy and flushed. Lips wet, with Yunah's arousal, it might be the hottest thing she's ever seen. "You're so pretty."

Moka giggles, a bashful laugh as she looks away. "Stop it."

"No," Yunah whispers with a smirk that she knows Moka likes. "I won't."

She flips Moka over and the girl lands with a yelp, a surprised and adorable little sound. She takes her liberties, to kiss and to bite, to suck her skin. Yunah is marking her. Deep kisses on her neck, bites that make Moka's body flinch and writhe, and her little noises are like the prettiest melody in the world. "So pretty," she repeats. "All mine."

Yunah moves down her body, her kisses trailing and leaving little bruises. She sucks her nipples into her mouth, swirling her tongue, sucking and nibbling on the stiff peak and making Moka's body buck up. Her mouth goes to the underside of her breasts, to the flat expanse of her stomach. She sinks her teeth in and Moka is whining. Her back is arched, her head pushed back and she's gripping the sheets, and Yunah is getting closer and closer to her destination. "My pretty girl," she murmurs into the smooth skin.

"Yunah," Moka whines and Yunah looks up, finding her staring, biting her lip. Her eyes are wide and desperate, pleading.

She lifts Moka's leg and kisses the back of her thigh. The younger girl is so sensitive. Her skin shivers as Yunah's mouth moves closer to her core. "Once we're home, Moka, I want to fuck you. Like really fuck you, hard, fast. I've seen those videos. What you watch when you're on your own." Moka squeals and her face goes crimson. She covers her head with a pillow. Yunah can't help the smile as she continues, "I want to do those things with you. One of those strap-ons. You'll look so pretty taking it."

Yunah kisses the girl's clit and Moka's entire body flinches. A hand shoots to Yunah's hair and grabs tight, holding onto the locks. She smiles against her, teasing her pussy, her mouth kissing and sucking on the lips of her cunt. "You can do anything you want to me," Moka gasps. Yunah can't help the laugh that slips out, a laugh of amusement and happiness, and Moka is squirming.

"You're gonna have to be more specific than that." Yunah kisses the mess from her lips, and Moka lets out the cutest, most frustrated noise, her hips lifting and her back arching.

"You can use me."

Yunah stops for a second. She raises her head and finds Moka looking at her. There is a blush to her cheeks and she looks embarrassed, and maybe even a little shy, but that glint in her eye is undeniable.

Yunah lowers herself, pressing a soft kiss to Moka's inner thigh. She takes her time, making a show of it, and Moka's breathing is getting heavier, more impatient. "Yeah?" She kisses her again. "Let me bend you over?" Another kiss. "Hold your face down on the bed while I fuck you?"

"Please," Moka whines, "Yes, yes."

"What else?" Yunah's eyes flick up. Moka's chest is rising, falling, rising.

Moka whines again. She throws her head back. Her body trembles. Yunah kisses her cunt. It's a deep kiss. It has Moka's hips bucking against her lips. "You can be rough with me," she finally manages, her voice breathy.

"Rough?" Yunah's eyebrow arches. She dips her tongue past the wet entrance and laps at Moka's heat. The girl's body is writhing against her mouth and Yunah can't help the muffled giggle. She's so cute like this, so easy to tease. Moka is panting. Her face is contorted in a desperate need for more, for release.

"If you want to," she mumbles, and Yunah is so tempted to tease her further. But Yunah is just as eager. She is so desperate for more of her taste, her body, her scent.

"Maybe," she whispers against the wet lips, "maybe, I'd rather be soft with you." Yunah sinks two fingers into her tight, wet hole. Moka gasps, and then moans. Yunah's mouth latches to the little nub of her clit, sucking it and swirling her tongue. The fingers thrust into her and curl. The walls tighten and tremble. "Take my time, fuck you slowly."

Yunah starts a slow rhythm with her fingers. Moka is whimpering, moaning and trying to buck into the fingers. But Yunah is stronger. Her free hand grabs the younger girl's thigh and forces her down, keeping her still and making her accept the pace.

"Slowly," Yunah repeats, "So slow you'll think it's torture. And I won't let you cum, not for a long time, until you can't bear it anymore." She kisses the skin, kisses her pussy, and then looks at Moka who's staring. She's flushed, her eyes wide and needy, her lips parted, and her body is trembling. "Until your little body is begging for release." She pushes another finger into Moka. She can feel the tightness around her digits and the way she throbs.

"Oh fuck," Moka moans.

"Or maybe I'll fuck you hard and fast." Yunah pushes down hard on Moka's thigh, and the pace picks up, the fingers slamming in and out. The lewd, wet sounds that Moka makes are enough to drive her crazy, the sloppy, messy sounds that come with every thrust and the sight of Moka's pussy, spread wide, stretched and accepting everything she's given, it has Yunah's head spinning. She feels delirious, high off of the pleasure she can give this pretty girl. "Hard, fast. Pound your pussy and make your entire body ache. Make you scream, make you beg me to stop because you can't handle anymore."

Moka's throat strains, and her body tenses. "I can't," Moka moans and Yunah can feel her pussy twitching, clenching around the digits inside of her. So easily does she cum against Yunah's fingers, and she's crying out, loud, without restraint. She doesn't even try to hold it back, and she's so wet. Her cum is leaking out, soaking her fingers, and it's the hottest thing Yunah has ever seen. She can't take her eyes away. She can't look anywhere but the way that Moka is cumming against her fingers.

She curls her fingers a little more and moves a little faster. The flow of cum becomes stronger, and Yunah can't stop the groan that leaves her. "Fuck." Moka's body is thrashing, she's whining and whimpering, and then it sprays a little, her cum, squirting from her and soaking her hand, her arm, the sheets. It leaks and sprays, it's the hottest thing she's ever seen, and Moka's body is spasming. Her hips are bucking and the moans sound so pretty.

And then Moka goes limp, she collapses onto the mattress and pants. She's staring up at the ceiling and her body is still trembling and shaking. Cum still leaking out and staining the sheets. All she sees are stars; pretty, beautiful stars.

"I'll never get tired of seeing you do that," Yunah murmurs as she pulls her soaked hand away.

"Shut up." Moka giggles and pulls her hands to her face. She covers her blushing face. "It's so embarrassing," she mumbles into her palms.

Yunah laughs, climbing from between her legs and lying next to her. Moka turns, lying on her side. "It's not," she whispers, "it's hot." Yunah runs her hand up Moka's bare thigh. Her hand slides to her ass and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Really hot."

#illit smut #Moka smut #Yunah smut #male reader #female reader #smut #f reader #m reader #kpop fanfic #Yunah x Moka #Moka x Yunah

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bkgexe · 6 months ago

Text

if all else fails, i was myself

bakugou x reader ✾ 4.6k

info! no smut sorry gang ✾ tw! trust issues that manifest as issues w physical intimacy/contact, dubcon in its vaguest definition (NOT bkg & reader) ✾ notes! ive been in perpetual writers block for months. is this trite idk. i miss my baby but anytime i write for him im like oops this is gonna be 60k words!!! so here is. a drabble lmao. also big lmao moment this is titled after count me out by kendrick lamar ldskfjdlkjf which was on repeat while writing so uh sorry mr. lamar abt the mha fanfic

katsuki has always known that part of him is wrong.

he’s never liked being touched. every kiss he’s experienced has made him tense as an elevator cable poised to snap. any attempt to go further than that has made him a little ill, made his gut feel like a stack of loose papers being torn to shreds, slow and loud.

it doesn’t help that he’s only ever had three kisses in his life: eijirou at a new year’s party (too many teeth), eijirou again at another new year’s party nearly a decade later (too much tongue), and then his fourth date with kyoka (when he tried to convince himself he just had to push through the discomfort to become normal).

things went further than that. it was a mistake. they both knew it right after it happened—kyoka first, and then katsuki after his head stopped pounding with what if i'm doing this wrong what if she's pitying me for fucking this up what if i don't know how to touch another person correctly what if i was supposed to learn at some point and i missed it how could i fucking miss it will it always be like this because i can't do this again i can't i don't—

“kat," she said after. she looked at him with something only a few degrees removed from pity, and poorly removed at that.

he attempted a halting non-apology. he attempted a real apology. failed at both.

"it's okay, you know," she said. "to not like it."

he scoffed even though he wasn’t entirely clear on what she meant by it, because there was so much he didn’t like. “i like it just fine.”

“if that was liking it, I’m honestly worried about your capacity for enjoying life in general.” it wasn’t a joke. her bluntness was something that'd made katsuki think he could push his boundaries with her. all of her thoughts were laid out plain for him to read, an open-source journal. “i'm just saying you don't have to like it. and you don’t have to force yourself to do things you don’t want to do. don't fuck yourself over for someone else's happiness.”

kyoka still texts him often, checks in, invites him to drinks with their friends. she’s kind. she’s normal. she doesn’t have this weird, shredded thing inside her that makes her balk at the idea of someone’s hand on her skin. that makes her think she's doing something wrong, even if she's not the one that initiated the touch.

when you started your job at the front desk of katsuki’s agency, he never thought that he'd be here, wishing above everything that he could just be normal. just for one fucking day, so he could laugh at your shitty jokes and maybe brush his knuckles across the back of your hand in passing and take you on a date where he could kiss you in his car after driving you home and the thought wouldn’t make his skin crawl, wouldn't tear up his insides to pulp.

because he fucked everything up. he's standing in his empty office where you'd been spending time with him and he fucked it up and hurt you and he's not sure how to unfuck it.

the thing is, he could grin and bear it. he could deal with the odd thing inside him that hates the contact and white-knuckle it through every kiss, every caress. but he’s never been a great actor. he wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.

(kyoka told him, years later, that it’s not that the sex itself wasn’t fine—what made it nearly unbearable for her was the fact that she could tell, only after it was too late, that being physically vulnerable with her pained him far more than he was willing to reveal.)

no one wants to feel like the person they’re with is grinning and bearing it. that they’re white-knuckling it through. katsuki knows this. he knows he’s basically a fucking virgin all but in title at thirty and that he’s got the personality of a dried-out fig you find in your fridge weeks after its last edible moments. he doesn't have much to offer.

but he walked into work one day and nodded at you, curt, a grimace on his face—and you smiled at him so kindly that his stomach twisted.

with you, it wasn't the feeling of something being torn apart. it was different, lighter. leaves wrenched into the sky by a strong breeze. still a kind of tearing, but different—less destructive.

he was wearing a deep carmine sweater his mom sent him in one of her bi-monthly care packages (as if he’s not an adult, and a pro-hero on top of that), and you said, “that’s such a nice color on you. is it new?”

there was that breeze inside his chest, strong, pulling at his bones. “yeah,” he grunted. then slowly, as if remembering how: “thanks.”

it was the attention, he thought at first, that piqued his interest. he wasn't used to it. people always watched him from afar, and he had fans online that were borderline obsessive, but people didn’t approach him. they didn’t say that’s such a nice color on you. they didn’t smile the way you smile.

he’s always had a shallow streak. it’s not like he doesn’t know this. it’s become a little muted over time, a little discouraged by the visible scarring on his face and body from his time in the field, but it’s never fully been eradicated. so it was simple, he thought. you paid him attention and stroked his ego, and he preened like a self-obsessed bird of paradise.

and then you started making these little origami whale sharks.

fucking stupid. it bothered him an annoying amount. you had a bunch at your desk, all different colors and sizes, some taped to your desktop monitor, some hung up with little pieces of string under the desk's storage overhang. you drew dots on the back of each one, a distinct spotted pattern that was unique for each shark. and you made them for everyone but him. eijirou bought you a pack of high quality origami paper and you made him his own fucking school, all with little faces, winking or surprised or angry, their wide paper mouths gaping and empty, the lines of their bodies pressed careful and sure.

he hated it. it was annoying and a waste of company time and he usually didn’t ever use dumb corporate slogans like “a waste of company time” but you were really pushing his fucking limits.

it was definitely just the attention he liked, he told himself, because surely someone doing something as dumb as this would annoy him to no fucking end if he spoke to them.

and then he spoke to you and he was wrong.

he asked why you made the damn things in the first place and you told him, “i like whale sharks. but to be totally honest, i just run out of things to do."

and he saw that as a challenge. you were running out of things to do? rest assured he could find more shit for you to take care of. so he did. tasks that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, they were so dull and time-consuming. and you were so achingly competent that it drove him up a fucking wall. you completed everything he asked of you in half the time it would take someone else, and you always reported back with a smile, and you always did good work, and he could see himself having a conversation with you about something other than work but he didn't want to try because he was worried he'd begin to like you as a person.

you're pretty. really fucking pretty. he can see that now, and he sure as fuck saw it then. you're hardworking. you're just likeable, and that's something katsuki had never been. it (reluctantly) impressed him. worse than that, it turned his feelings for you into a sort of interest.

but he knows he's not normal when it comes to things like this.

he tried to distance himself from you because of it, but it turns out that asking someone to do work for you means you do have to speak to them sometimes. and sometimes turned into a lot of times.

sometimes turned into bringing him coffee in the morning, not because he asked you to, but because you're sweet like that. sometimes turned into being the person he bounced ideas off of when he had a board meeting coming up or something otherwise boring and meticulous. sometimes turned into you laughing at his prickly comments rather than going quiet because of them. turned into you saying suck it up, dynamight, this is what it means to be the boss when he complained about doing paperwork.

sometimes turned into staying late with him at the office, getting take out for the two of you to share while you finished filing claims and damage reports and other stuff he hated taking care of by himself. sometimes turned into him asking you to stay late just because he wanted you there. because even when he was quiet, you'd tell him about your day, about things that happened in the office, about how much you like the book you'd both been reading. he loved listening to you talk. felt comfortable enough to tell you things about himself when he'd never felt comfortable doing that before.

sometimes turned into you holding out a piece of fried tofu from your take-out container for him to eat while he was approving time-off forms that he should have looked at much earlier that week, and you being so close that he could notice how good you smelled, and the warmth of your body basically radiated towards him, like all your energy was focused on him, and your smile was small but somehow even more lovely than usual, a secret for him to tuck away and keep, and when you finished feeding him and he had a little sauce on the corner of his mouth and you reached forward to wipe it off for him and your hand lingered there for a moment and your eyes fell to his lips and what if you try to kiss me and i'm wrong and you hate me for it and what if i can't give you what you want and what if i'm not actually what you want what if i've disappointed you already what if—

it was too much.

so he fucked it up. your thumb was so soft against his skin. he reeled backwards in his chair, rolling it whole feet clear of you, and he felt the tearing again, the bad kind, like paper unevenly shredded by clumsy hands, and he had to leave. he had to leave. he needed to leave so badly that it felt like pulling his skin off would be preferable to being in that office with you.

hiding in the bathroom was fucking pitiful. he remembered his breathing exercises. he remembered to ground himself. and when he came back to his office, you were gone.

if he was normal—and he wants to be normal, god fucking damn—he could have stomached your proximity. he could have eaten out of your fucking hand. he could have touched you back like a normal person probably would have and he wouldn't be here, alone, looking at a little purple sticky note you left him that says i finished organizing the pto forms. i hope you feel better!

he doesn't know whose pride you're trying to save with that. as if you didn't leave because he made things so fucking awkward by running away from you when you touched him. when you—maybe, if he was reading the room correctly—were about to kiss him.

and you don't speak to him for days. he doesn't want to push so he doesn't—just watches you out of the corner of his eye whenever you're both in the same room, which is arguably worse. he's not sure. he's just itching to fucking talk to you because he misses it.

he misses you. in a more-than-friends way.

it takes a while for him to realize this. when he does, it hits him like a metal rod up the side of the head. it's fucked up of him to miss you the way he does when he doesn't feel like he can provide you with the things a normal person could. and though he's worked on his patience over the years—worked on understanding that he can't have everything he wants—it doesn't stop him from being selfish and finally pulling you aside to talk.

and baffling as fucking ever, the first thing you say is sorry. "i know i should've talked to you about it earlier. i just—i shouldn't have done that. and i know it. i shouldn't have assumed that—i don't know. that you..."

you look helpless. it's one of the very few times that katsuki has ever felt the compulsion to touch someone. not because he wants the touch, per se, but because he wants to be able to provide comfort. he never figured out how to do that with words. he's so focused on his inability to comfort you that he barely has any idea of what you're actually talking about. instead of doing anything at all, he just stands there like a fuckwad.

"i just want you to know that i would never—like never—have touched you, or tried to... if i didn't think there was like, a vibe?" you shake your head, exasperated with yourself. "god, even that sounds so bad. i'm sorry, i just—"

"wait, what are—?" and then it clicks, because he's been slow on the uptake figuring out his shit when he should have been focusing way more on yours. "there was..." katsuki says, and he fucking hates that he can't find better words for what you were both feeling in his office, "a vibe."

the way your face changes when you're flustered is one of katsuki's favorite things, but it's not as enjoyable when he feels just as flustered as you look. "i—oh? so... so you—?"

his ears feel like they're being attacked by two heated straightening irons and he knows they're red as hell right now. he's gonna have to say this plainly even though he'd rather get his teeth pulled out one by one with a pair of pliers. "it's not you."

your expression loses any sort of hope it once held. you press your lips together and sigh, maybe a little exasperated. he's doing his best here but he knows his best is shit. "i can handle a non-cliché rejection," you tell him. "honestly, i'd prefer a non-cliché rejection—"

"i'm not trying to reject you," he says, and it's selfish of him. because he's really not. he isn't comfortable with the things you'd want from him, but he still wants you in some capacity. "i just don't—do shit like that."

"kissing?"

somehow knowing for sure that you did want to kiss him in his office makes him want you more. he likes that you're bold. he likes that you're not ashamed of that. he wants to be different than he is. "any... of it," he struggles to admit.

"at all?"

he nods.

"just—like touching, and stuff?"

it sounds so juvenile that he can't help but laugh through his nose, roll his eyes. "yeah. touching and stuff."

"oh."

you're disappointed. of course you are. it's not like he expected anything different, but—sometimes he fucking hates his life. hates that he can't be the thing people need him to be. hates that trying is so difficult, that it flings his stomach into space, like a throwing stone skipping across a still lake.

"so you don't go on dates, or anything."

"haven't tried."

"do you not want to?" you ask, and he can tell it's more of a genuine question than anything. you're curious about him, like you always are. it's more than he deserves, for all he can offer.

"doesn't make sense to."

"that's not what i asked."

it's not. and so katsuki listens as you ask your question again, and he really takes a moment to think.

considering the answer to your question leads him to his first date with you. and his second, and his third—his fourth, and he's keenly aware that his last fourth date ended with what he expects all dates are supposed to end with.

he takes you to the aquarium. because of all the fucking origami whale sharks. you still haven't given him one and it sticks in his craw like a bone. in front of the backlit tank that holds sharks of all types, shapes and sizes and teeth he's never pictured possible of a living creature before, he asks, "why sharks?"

you look at him, brow raised. "i don't know. they probably needed the biggest tank in the aquarium. and this looks like the biggest tank."

"no, dumbass—your sharks. the ones all over the fuckin' office."

"what, you don't like them?" you ask, but you're smiling, sly.

he shrugs. he thinks they're dumb as hell. he wants one to hang up at work, like the ones you've got hung up at your desk. "they're whatever. they clutter the fuck out of ei's office. and he's already got issues organizing." you've just made eijirou so many at his point, and it's getting ridiculous. "but what—are they easy to make, or something?"

you laugh a little. "no. not at all, actually." a whale shark swims by, its spotted hide shimmering in the tank's eerie blue lighting, and you watch it intently. "but it'd be boring if it was too easy."

this date ends with him walking you home from the aquarium a few blocks from your apartment and you smiling at him and telling him that you had a really great time, and he feels like a fucking freak because you don't even expect more. you don't wait for a kiss. don't look disappointed that he doesn't try to give you one. the way you look at him holds so much affection that he doesn't deserve and he has no idea how to reciprocate it to you, and somehow he lands on, "make me one."

"one what?" you ask, but he thinks you already know what he's asking. you like to play coy. he likes it when you play coy. when you're enjoying yourself.

"one of your little fuckin' paper things," he mutters, because admitting that he wants one of those dumbass sharks feels somehow demeaning. he doesn't want you to know how much he's wanted one. "ei's got a million of 'em."

your hand was on your door handle, but it falls to your side. he's keenly aware of its proximity to him. he doesn't feel that terrible ripping in his gut and its absence is almost frightening to him. your fingers tighten into a fist. it's cold out. "ah, and you're jealous?"

"no," he says, knee-jerk. "i just don't get why everyone gets one but me."

you smile when he says this and he could live in this image of you, delicate and small and made for him. he goes home and thinks about it until he falls asleep. thinks about it even beyond then, feels that strong breeze inside him tearing every leaf from its grounded perch.

here's the thing—nothing against jirou, but unlike his other fourth date, this one was enjoyable. more than. he loved watching you be amazed by the size of the whale sharks, and he loved watching you put a bunch of coins into the penny press and cranking the machine until one was squeezed out into the pattern you wanted, and he loved watching you lay your hand against the glass where the rubbery wings of a flood of stingrays battled for your attention, and—

he loved watching you. that's weird, right? he sounds like a fucking lunatic thinking that.

but he does. he hadn't realized until now how difficult it had been not only to touch people, but to look at them. maintaining eye contact, watching someone do a simple task out of interest instead of staring them down in an attempt to intimidate them. he's so much more fucked up than he thought but what makes it bearable is that he can do it with you. he can watch the way you enjoy things and feel like he's not intruding on something he shouldn't. without even trying, you make him feel welcome—wanted.

that's it. you make him feel wanted.

the realization affects him in a way he doesn't understand. at work the next day, when you smile at him over the top of the front desk, he feels something incredibly strong—something like instinct—that tells him to touch you. small. a thumb brushed across your cheek. his fingers grazing yours. he wants it in a way that can't be right because he's never wanted to touch someone like this.

he doesn't do it, but he thinks about it all day. your little smiles when you notice him watching you on your dates, the way your fingers graze your lips when you cover your laugh, the softness in the way you regard him. you're quiet, reserved, but when you laugh you laugh hard. he wants your soft, your quiet and your loud, he wants the feeling of your fingers on his lips, he wants your smallest smiles, all things he wishes he could fold up and keep and later display somewhere he can always see them. a school of paper fish, gaping mouths and drawn-on spots and such carefully pressed lines.

so on the eleventh date—(he knows it's ridiculous to count, but he's never spent this much time with one person before, not like this)—he reaches for your hand when you're walking alongside the bay, the air turning cold in the wake of the sunset that the two of you had just witnessed. that's romantic, you'd teased when he asked you to watch it with him. he'd rolled his eyes, shrugged you off.

but maybe he wanted it to be romantic. maybe he wanted to make this as normal as possible for you because nothing has been normal between the two of you so far.

you pull back when he reaches for you, as if on instinct. look up at him, confused, when he reaches out again. "katsuki..." you say, and it sounds as if he's done something wrong.

he tries not to let his brain spiral but thoughts drip inwards. water meeting a dented hull. what has he done this time? what else has he fucked up by being fundamentally wrong?

"you know..." you start, and you lose your words.

he thinks of kyoka, years ago. it's okay, you know. to not like it. he wonders if you'll still text him like she does.

your lips pull into a frown before you speak and katsuki can't breathe. "i was never gonna ask on my own because i know you don't like talking about things like this if you don't bring it up. but—um. katsuki—do you think i expect something from you?"

"huh?" he asks, dumb. breathing is still something he fails to do.

"i know that this is—different. i know you have some things going on that make the physical part hard for you." you look up at him so earnestly, and he loves looking at you. he loves looking at you and doesn't want to have to stop and he's worried that this is it. the moment he'll have to stop. you try to smile and it's small and he wants it all for himself. careful. delicate. secret, for him. "i'm not gonna lie to you. i don't know what a relationship without that kind of stuff looks like. but that doesn't mean i'm not willing to find out. it's—i don't need you to try to do something you think i want you to do."

"i'm not."

"it makes me feel a little sick, kat. honestly. it makes me feel like, i don't know—like i'm taking advantage of you, or something—"

"you're not."

"you don't have to do things like that to keep me around." you look flustered, eyes darting from his face to the skyline. "if you want me, i'm—you know."

it's okay, you know. "i don't know."

"i'm yours," you say, and cringe immediately at your words. "or like—i could be, you know, kind of whatever you wanted, if you—if that's what you want. would want."

katsuki can only remember a few times when his head was this quiet in the presence of someone else. when he trusted someone enough to let his mind go blank, to let himself act on instinct. "can i kiss you?"

you sigh. "this is what i was saying. i don't want you to—"

"no," he says, quiet, and he's closer to you than he's ever been. he likes the way you smell. he's not gonna apologize if that's weird. "i just want—god, i feel pathetic asking again. can i just—?"

just, just, just. just a touch, just a kiss, just a moment of your fucking time—it's all he wants. and he's never wanted like this. he's never trusted like this. his head has never quieted entirely because he's so sure that he's not going to disappoint you, or be something you don't actually want, or be wrong.

you've shown him that he can't be wrong with you, regardless of whether or not something within him is broken.

your lips are warm, a little chapped from the dry air, and he tries to remember what kissing chastely is but it's like something breaks in him further the second the two of you touch. his hands are cradling your face, his tongue is gliding against your tongue, his teeth are clacking against your teeth, and he knows the kiss is bad and wrong and messy but he suddenly needs it. he needs to feel you.

you make a noise against him and worry slices into his stomach before he realizes it's a quiet, breathy moan, and maybe you've been okay without the touch but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy it when you receive it. he can tell he hasn't made his boundaries clear enough—your hands circle his wrists, too cautious to go further, too hesitant to grip him like he thinks you want to. like he wants you to want to.

his teeth hit yours again and you laugh, and he pulls back, stomach tight. there's a hope in him that's ready to be torn.

you see it in his face—the fear. "i love kissing you," you blurt out, as if it's the only reassurance you can think of in the moment. "i mean—you're just." you laugh again, and he realizes it's nerves. you're just as nervous as he is. "can i—can we go somewhere warm? and maybe do this more? or—if this was enough—"

he's pulling you towards his apartment before you can get another word out.

kissing you is easy because you make him feel like it's relatively new for you as well. maybe that's how it feels for everyone every time, but he wouldn't know. he just feels comfortable with you. like you're not so much better than him, like you're not waiting to laugh at him when he fucks up, like you're touching him because you really want to.

so he takes you to his apartment and puts you on his couch and kisses you until your back is against the armrest and he's looming over you and you feel comfortable enough that your hands stray from his wrists to his shoulders to his hair and he didn't even know touching someone could feel like this.

put aside the fact that he's nearly finished in his fucking jeans three times just from your fingers running across his back, from the way you cup his cheek when he pulls back for air because he keeps forgetting to breathe—just having you close is intoxicating. he wants to bury his face in the curve of your shoulder, he wants to bite marks into your skin that'll stay vibrant for weeks, he wants to etch himself into you so deeply that he doesn't have to leave. these wants aren't even sexual—it's something about having you be his. i'm yours, you'd told him, and he hadn't even known that it would be exactly what he needed to hear.

he's in love with you, which isn't shocking to him, but he knows he shouldn't be in love with you yet because people that aren't fucked up in the head don't feel shit like this so quickly. he's not gonna tell you this for a very long time, but he knows—so completely and confidently—that he will reach a point when he can tell you.

"you sure you want this?" he asks, breathy, between kisses.

you stop kissing him, brows raised in surprise. "katsuki, we don't... this is a lot for one night. we can take it slow, still."

"that's—i'm not talking about that." he gives in, then—lets himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, lets himself breathe in deep, lets himself find your hands and intertwine your fingers, and you can probably feel that he's hard as fucking metal for you but that's not what's important right now. it sure as hell makes it awkward to try to have a serious conversation, though. "you sure you wanna deal with all... you know. my stuff."

"are you sure you wanna deal with all of my stuff?" you counter, and he pulls back to look at you. kissed rotten and smiling. "of course i want to deal with it. i like you."

and he likes you too. god, he likes you so fucking much.

the next morning, long after you've left for home, he finds a little orange whale shark hidden behind the alarm clock on his bedside table, stars in the place of eyes, and the trace of you is enough to make him feel warm. to hope that over time his apartment becomes full of the little paper creatures until his home is its own aquarium, until everywhere he looks is a memory of all you've brought him—pieces of you, perfectly arranged and delicately folded by your careful hands, much too gentle to tear.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bkg #fics #heehee idk even.... what this is. back on my angst bullshit. but it was fun to write!!!!#would love to be on here more often and write more little things like this would love if life wasn't like incredibly busy all the time

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sweemmy · 6 months ago

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⋆｡ﾟThe Gregorian era was a time when those with desires outside the social norm lived in the shadow of secrecy, a truth these women knew all too well. ﾟ｡⋆

— Vi, Caitlyn, Sevika, and Jinx.

VI.

Vi has never fit into the molds that society tries to impose on her—always rebellious, always challenging the rules. But this time, the struggle is different. There are no punches or screams, just a battle that burns in silence, fought deep in her heart… and this time, she’s completely alone.

When she sees you at events, draped in the elegance expected of a respectable lady, her gaze turns cold, almost unyielding. But it’s not because of you. It’s because of the oppressive system that binds her hands, even denying her the right to look at you the way she truly wants.

Every word exchanged is a carefully measured move on an invisible board. Vi offers you a wry smile, murmuring, "It’s a pleasure to see you," but behind that strong façade, her hands tremble with the uncontrollable urge to reach for yours. She hates feeling vulnerable, but with you, she allows herself to be human.

She glides silently through the cobbled streets of Piltover, seeking out those hidden corners where her people gather. Here, finally, she feels free… but that freedom always casts a shadow, because you can’t be by her side.

She dreams of you more than she dares admit. She imagines escaping with you to a corner of the world where no one knows them, where names and titles fade into oblivion. But she always wakes, and reality reminds her that such a thing is nothing more than impossible.

When she hears other men speak of you, referring to you as the "gem" of the season, a fury burns in her chest, like poison twisting in her gut. "Why can they claim you with words, while I can’t even have you at all?" she wonders, rage and desire intertwined.

One moonless night, she found you lost in the gardens, surrounded by the stillness of the dark. The conversation that followed was soft, subtle, like a whisper in the breeze. Yet in your eyes, Vi thought she saw something more—a silent longing, a spark that reflected what she herself desired. But did she really see it, or was it just the echo of her own naive hope?

She feels that every word she speaks must be carefully calculated, but her love for you burns with an intensity she cannot contain. "If this is a sin," she reflects, letting out a bitter smile, "then let the flames consume me."

Finally, one day, Vi takes the pen and writes a letter, but she never delivers it. Instead, she watches it burn in the fireplace, letting her words dissolve in the flames, like her dearest dream, consumed to the last ash.

CAITLYN.

For Caitlyn, society has always been a chessboard, where every move is calculated with precision, each play evaluated down to the last detail. But you... you're the only move she knows she can never win.

She looks at the other young women who dream of marriage and can't help but feel a pang of envy. Not for them, but because she knows she will never get to enjoy the luxury of looking at you the way the men around you do, with admiration and desire in their eyes.

She writes letters to you with almost obsessive frequency—letters that never see the light of day. She sits at her desk, motionless and lost in thought until late into the night, trapped in the uncertainty of what everything could be like if the world were different.

At social gatherings, she stands by your side as a loyal friend, an elegant and discreet shadow who glides gracefully beside you. The looks from others are just noise; the only thing that matters is your presence beside her, even if it's in the silent role of "companion."

Once, someone dared to make a disparaging comment about "improper relationships." Caitlyn, with an exterior calm that seemed unshakable, didn't let her anger spill over in public, but inside, her indignation burned as fiercely as a scorching sun. No one, absolutely no one, was going to point fingers at you for something she herself held deep within.

She dreams of escaping, of running toward a future where she is free, but Caitlyn cannot deny the reality. "My duty is to protect my family, to protect you," she repeats over and over, holding onto those words like an anchor, trying to convince her heart that, in the end, that’s all that truly matters.

Sometimes, when your laughter rings out or when you take her arm with that confidence that seems to close the distance between you, her pulse races, as if each beat is a whisper of possibilities. In those moments, she allows herself to think that, if only they were braver, they could find an excuse to escape together, to leave behind everything that holds them back. But Caitlyn doesn't dare to be selfish, to risk everything she has built.

Every time she walks in the rain, she can’t help but think of you. The sense of freedom she feels in those moments is the same she longs for both of them, although, aware of the distance between you, she can only give you an empty smile and a "goodnight" that doesn't reflect all she wishes she could say.

The love she feels for you is like a silent wound. It doesn’t bleed, but it always hurts.

SEVIKA.

Sevika knows she’s not made to fit in. Her stance is unyielding, her presence a powerful force, but when she looks at you, something inside her breaks, as if everything she’s built crumbles in an instant.

At first, she denied it vehemently. She believed it was just a fleeting admiration, a passing desire that would fade with time. But soon, the harsh truth revealed itself: she is deeply in love, and that revelation consumes her with rage, because she knows she can’t have you.

Frustration boils inside her when she sees you talking to men who don’t deserve you. "Why should I stay silent? Why can they, and I can’t?"

Sevika was never one to follow rules; she always moved in her own territory, where the rules were flexible, and the consequences, few. But in this game, the rules are different, and she knows it. Any misstep, any wrong move, could destroy you. And she won’t allow it. She won’t let a mistake, no matter how small, bring an end to you.

She finds herself in the darkest corners of her mind, thinking of you more often than she’d like to admit. She imagines holding your hand in public, as if it were something natural, as others do. The mere thought of it is a delicious torture, a game of desires that slowly consumes her.

In a nearly imperceptible gesture, she once offered you her coat when the night was cold. "A courtesy," she said, but deep down, it was her only way of touching you.

Sevika hates the world she lives in. If she could, she would burn it all down to build a new one, one where no one could judge them.

Sometimes, in those dark, secret bars where she tends to lose herself, the glances from others challenge her, silently daring her. "I am what I am," she mutters under her breath, fiercely. Yet, deep in her mind, she never lets your name be tarnished, guarding it with a silent but unshakable loyalty.

Finally, in the solitude of her own company, Sevika whispers her love in a barely audible murmur. It’s a secret she will never reveal, but one that will burn in her chest, keeping her alive in every corner of her being.

JINX.

For Jinx, the world has always been a cruel and senseless place, but when you're near, for a fleeting moment, everything stops, as if the storm in her mind finds a corner of calm.

She doesn't know how to explain what she feels when she sees you, nor why her heart beats faster in your presence. At first, she thought it was just admiration, maybe a need, but soon she realized that what consumes her goes beyond that. It's something darker, more intense... something forbidden.

Jinx watches you from a distance, hidden in the shadows. She doesn't do it for fun, but because she's aware that getting too close could be a risk, both for you and for her.

In her overwhelmed mind, she imagines a world without rules or boundaries. "If there were no laws or morals, we could be everything, we could be together," she repeats to herself with a mix of rage and desire, as if the words could alter her reality.

Once, in an impulsive outburst, she stole a ribbon you wore in your hair. Now she keeps it as her most prized treasure. It's the closest she has to you.

She hears the rumors circulating, the whispers about how "you should get married soon." Meanwhile, Jinx erupts in anger, screaming and destroying everything in her path, but only when no one can see her. The very thought of losing you forever consumes her from the inside; she can't bear it.

She draws you in her notebooks, sketching little silhouettes hidden among chaotic scribbles and bursts of color. You are her only refuge in a world that burns with flames, her corner of calm amidst the chaos.

She dreams of you discovering her, of seeing through her facade and accepting her for what she truly is. But the fear of rejection holds her back.

In the end, Jinx whispers your name to the wind, as if it were a lost prayer addressed to a god who has never listened to her pleas.

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane caitlyn #arcane vi #arcane sevika #arcane jinx #caitlyn x reader #vi x reader #sevika x reader #jinx x reader

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wolfytae-exe · 4 months ago

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The feelings box. (S)

summary: In which sending a complaint letter on valentine’s day doesn’t go as planned.

warning: old friends trope, soft sex, sub! reader, soft dom! Beomgyu, big dick Beomgyu agenda, raw penetration (Wrap it up yall), biting

pairing: Idol! Beomgyu x Bestfriend! Reader

wc: 3.4k

this is for @silvergyus Valentine’s day event!

It feels like it’s been forever since you’ve seen your best friend Beomgyu. You’ve known him for years, since your second year in high school to be exact. Now he’s super famous and doesn’t have much time for you anymore. You try to be excited for him, really, but you can’t help but feel a little bitter about how little time you spend with him these days.

It’s like everything has changed, and it’s hard not to miss the days when things were simpler—when your biggest concern was whether the tteokbokki was spicy enough, or what crazy thing you’d end up doing next on a random Tuesday night. You miss those nights. The ones when you’d sit on the floor, sharing food, laughing at the stupidest things, and just talking about life’s bullshit. From your shitty family to the dumbest inside jokes, it all felt so easy back then. You could always count on him to brighten up even your worst days. The kind of friendship that didn’t need much effort—it just was.

But as much as you try to keep your feelings in check, there’s one thing you can't seem to shake off. About a year after meeting him, you started to develop a small crush on Beomgyu. At first, it was something you could ignore, convinced it was just a silly phase that would fade. But the more you got to know him, the more you couldn’t help but feel drawn to him. He was charming and magnetic, and it wasn’t hard to see why girls were falling over themselves for him. You tried to push it aside, telling yourself it was nothing because, honestly, what were the chances he’d ever feel the same? Besides, you couldn’t exactly be the friend with feelings; that would be messy. Still, every time his smile lights up a room or when he laughs at something only the two of you get, you feel that familiar tug in your chest, and it makes it even harder to ignore.

This is where your trusty “feelings box” comes in. A stupid old shoebox you’ve had since middle school, tucked away under your bed like some kind of emotional safety net. It's full of notes about all the things you've never said. Some to your family, some to old classmates who never really understood you, some to random strangers who pissed you off, and of course, a few to Gyu. You can’t help but smile bitterly as you think about it. The notes are a mix of silly frustrations and things you never had the guts to share, but they’ve been your secret outlet for years. "God, I hate Valentine’s Day," you mutter under your breath, slouching back in your chair as you stare at the box.

All day, your friends have been buzzing about the upcoming day. They’re all so excited about Valentine’s Day—chattering about their plans, detailing every little moment of how their boyfriends asked them out, and the little gifts they’re getting. It’s all so… perfect. They don’t even seem to notice how much it stings to hear it. You should be happy for them, really. But as you sit at your desk, staring at the clutter of papers and half-hearted doodles, you can’t help but feel a little left out. Not that you were expecting anything grand—after all, who needs a day dedicated to love when you’ve got your trusty shoebox for all the things you’ll never say? Still, part of you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have someone who’d think of you on a day like this, someone who’d make your heart flutter for once, instead of just filling up your box.

You pull out your notepad, the one you’ve been scribbling in for years, and start writing a letter to Beomgyu. It’s cathartic, this release of everything you’ve been holding in—how much you miss him, how much you wish he wasn’t so busy with his new life. You pour your frustrations onto the paper, wishing things could go back to the way they used to be. You write about how it feels like he’s slipping further away, how he’s always surrounded by people now, and how there are moments when you feel like a stranger to him. But more than anything, you write about him—the little things you notice, the things you’ve never said out loud. How he makes people feel special without even trying, how his laugh lingers in your mind long after he’s gone, how he’s always been your Beomgyu, even when the rest of the world started claiming pieces of him.

And then, almost without thinking, you reach for a fresh sheet of paper. Your hand hesitates for a moment before the words begin to flow—raw, unfiltered, meant for no one’s eyes but your own. A confession you never planned to send.

Beomgyu,

I hate Valentine’s Day. Every year, it’s the same—flowers, chocolates, grand gestures, and yet none of it ever means anything to me. But if it were you… maybe it would.

I don’t even know when it started. Maybe it was the first time you stayed up all night on the phone with me when I was feeling like crap. Or maybe it was when you showed up at my door with tteokbokki after my worst exam just because you “had a feeling” I needed it. Or maybe it’s always been there, lingering quietly, waiting for me to notice.

But I do notice. I notice everything about you. The way your voice softens when you’re tired, the way your nose scrunches when you laugh too hard, the way you always find a way to make people feel like they matter. You don’t even try, and yet you pull people in like gravity. Like you pulled me in.

And I hate it. I hate that I can’t shake this feeling, that every time I see you, I wonder what it would be like if you looked at me the way I look at you. I hate that I know you don’t. Because why would you? You’re Beomgyu—the boy with a thousand admirers, the boy too busy chasing his dreams to notice the way I hold my breath whenever you’re close.

I wish I could say this out loud. I wish I could be one of those people who confesses without fear, who risks it all for love. But I can’t. Because if I say it, if I admit it to you, I might lose the one thing I never want to let go of—you. And that’s a risk I can’t take.

So instead, I’ll write it here, in this stupid shoebox full of things I’ll never say.

—Y/N

When you finish, it’s like a weight has been lifted. The air feels a little easier to breathe, but your heart still feels heavy in a way you can’t shake. You push the paper aside and glance down at the other half-finished letter to Gyu on your desk. You’ve been putting it off for weeks now, but tonight, with everything on your mind, you finally decide to finish it. You don’t want to leave anything unsaid, but you also don’t want to make things weird. So you keep it simple—lighthearted, nothing too serious. You end the letter with a casual sign-off, your name, and a smiley face, as though nothing’s changed. A few days later, you slip it into the mail, not thinking too hard about it. You’re not confessing anything, just telling him you miss him. Simple, easy. That’s all.

A few days later, Valentine’s Day rolls around, and you’re just planning on treating it like any other day. You didn’t expect anything to change, especially not after everything that’s been on your mind. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands—getting yourself some chocolates and settling in for a scary movie marathon. Romance movies? Yeah, not the best idea today. You weren’t about to sit through a bunch of perfect couples and heartwarming confessions while you were still trying to wrap your head around everything. The rain taps against your window, adding to the quiet mood, as you pour yourself a cup of hot cocoa, curling up in your blanket. You start eating your chocolates, letting the sweetness balance out the tension in your chest. The movie plays in the background, but it’s really just the comfort of being alone, of doing something for yourself, that brings peace. You focus on the suspense of the movie, pushing aside the little sting of loneliness, telling yourself that it’s just another day.

A sudden knock on your door makes you jump, the sound slicing through the quiet of your room. At first, you think it might just be part of the movie, or maybe the rain hitting the window. But then another knock—definitely not the movie, and definitely not the rain. “Oh god, now what?” you mutter to yourself as you pull yourself to your feet. “Coming!” you yell, sliding on your fuzzy bear slippers with a sigh. You shuffle over to the door in your cozy sweater and loose gray sweatpants, your hair a bit messy from the comfort of the night. It’s not like you were expecting visitors today, so you’re not exactly prepared for anyone showing up at your door.

“Gyu?” you gasp loudly as you swing the door open. His face is oddly serious, a look you swear you’ve never seen before, like there’s something on his mind that he’s not sure how to say. You’re frozen for a moment, trying to figure out why he’s standing there, looking at you like that. “Wh-what are you doing here?!?” you almost yell, too surprised to contain the shock in your voice as your eyes lock with his. His hair is drenched in water, his jacket soaked from the rain, and his expression is unreadable. Why is he looking at you like that? The silence between you both stretches on, each second more suffocating than the last. You’re standing there, frozen in place, your heart pounding, feeling like panic has replaced all the blood in your veins.

After a few agonizing moments of silence, he starts to turn away, and that’s when your instincts kick in. Without thinking, you reach out and grab the sleeve of his jacket, your fingers curling into the fabric. “No, Gyu, pl—” You don’t even get to finish before he closes the distance, crashing his lips against yours. It’s sudden and overwhelming, and everything you thought you knew about him and about yourself goes out the window in an instant. He pulls you out into the rain, but honestly, you couldn’t care less. The cold drops on your skin are nothing compared to the warmth flooding through your chest at the feeling of him against you. All the confusion, all the panic—it fades into the background, replaced by something else entirely.

Once you finally pull apart he whispers out “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” You stand there in shock completely overwhelmed by emotion. How do you even begin to explain to him everything you’re feeling. It’s one thing to write all your feelings on a piece of paper and shove them into a box under your bed, but now you have to try and say them? You can’t do that. You can barely think. So you don’t. You reach out and pull him down into an even deeper kiss. Soft breathy moans escape your lips as you feel him pull you closer to him. Your head is spinning with emotion and desire. Desire to touch him. Desire to show him everything without ever having to say anything at all.

As you pull away from the kiss, you're both left gasping for air. Gyu's eyes are wide with a mix of wonder and relief. The rain continues its relentless assault, soaking you both, but the warmth radiating off him is enough to keep you going. You run your fingers through his wet hair, marveling at how soft it feels against your skin. Your lips are tender, and swollen from the ferocity of the kiss, but you crave more. You lean in again, capturing his mouth with yours, desperate to convey every jumbled emotion swirling inside you. His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your heartbeats sync as your bodies mold together, the cold rain now a distant memory. The world around you fades away, leaving only the sound of raindrops hitting the pavement and the roar of your combined heartbeats.

You can’t believe what’s happening right now. As you kiss the two of you stumble into your room. He gently guides you down onto the bed. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ll ever touch” he mumbles before kissing you even deeper. Your sarcastic and witty demeanor is out the window. You can’t even think of anything other than how badly you’ve wanted this. It almost feels like a dream. “Are you sure?” he asks you softly. This is when you meet his eyes again. Seeing that same, idiot best friend you started falling for so long ago. “I’m sure Gyu,” you say in a playful yet sincere tone. His face softens at your confirmation.

His hands continue their path down your body. You’re too shy to make eye contact with him. The intensity of how he’s looking at you burning a pit into your stomach. You lift your hips as he pulls off your pants that are now soaked in more ways than one. Your embarrassment is there but you can’t make yourself care. His hands feel better on your skin than you ever could've imagined. He kisses you again. This time he slides his tongue into your mouth making you gasp into the kiss. You aren’t a virgin but this feels oddly similar to that feeling of having sex for the first time. It all feels so intense and so new. You tug on his hair, deepening the kiss. You need more. He wrestles with his belt and takes his now rock-hard cock out. You can’t help but joke “Who would’ve guessed” you say as you see how big he is. He chuckles and kisses you again. He gently guides himself inside you. “Holy shit-” you gasp at the sudden stretch of him pushing inside of you, it feels surreal to finally have him this close to you. You grip onto his shoulders, eyes closing in attempts to calm your heart and your head.

Once fully sheathed inside you, Gyu stills, savoring the sensation. He gazes into your eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort. “Do you need a minute?” He whispers softly while moving the fly-aways of your hair out of your face. You take a breath, trying to relax from the burning stretch before giving him a curt nod for him to keep going. Beomgyu takes it and pulls out before slowly beginning to move. Each thrust is careful, measured, as if he's trying to memorize the feeling of being connected to you. You moan softly, your hands clutching the sheets beneath you. The initial shock of his size quickly fades, replaced by pure ecstasy. You match his pace, rising to meet him, your bodies moving in a harmony that feels like it's been years in the making. The air between you crackles with electricity, every touch igniting sparks that travel throughout your entire being. The playfulness lingers in the form of whispered jokes and soft giggles, punctuating the increasingly intense moments of passion. It's a delicate dance of exploration and adoration.

With each stroke, Gyu becomes more confident, his movements growing bolder as he learns what drives you wild. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer, desperate to feel every inch of him. The room is filled with the sounds of your muffled moans and the rustling of the bed sheets. You're no longer shy about your desire, meeting his gaze with a hunger that matches his own. He leans down, capturing your lips once more, swallowing your gasps as the pleasure builds. It's raw, it's real, and it's everything you never realized you needed. Who knew this shit was real? You certainly didn’t. ‘How did I go from confessing my feelings to a shoebox to having sex with my best friend?’ you think to yourself. The feeling building in your stomach pulls your attention back to the intensity of your surroundings, The feeling of your chest pressed against his, his lips and teeth against your neck; leaving love bites, and the feeling of his thick cock sliding against your walls in the most dizzying way.

As your bodies intertwine, the tension between you reaches its peak. Gyu's pace quickens, matching the racing of your heart. You clutch onto him tightly, your nails digging into his back as the wave of pleasure crashes over you both. Your moans become louder, and his moans follow suit, filling the quiet space as you reach your climax together. The world seems to pause for a brief moment, the only things that matter is the pounding of your hearts and the feeling of him inside you. Then, as the ecstasy subsides, you collapse against each other, spent and satisfied. For a few seconds, there's nothing but heavy breathing and the sound of your hearts beating in sync.

The rain is still falling outside, tapping softly against the window, but neither of you care. Beomgyu’s hands cup your face, his lips lingering against yours like he’s afraid to let go. When he finally pulls back, his breath is uneven, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right words. “I—” He pauses, letting out a breathy laugh, shaking his head like he can’t believe what just happened. “I wasn’t supposed to do that yet.”

Your heart is still racing, but the panic from earlier has melted away, replaced by something warmer, steadier. You’re lying beside him now, wrapped up in the blankets, your fingers loosely tangled in the fabric of his shirt. The glow of your bedside lamp casts soft shadows across his face, and you can’t help but think how right this feels. “What do you mean yet?” you ask, voice quieter now, calmer. He sighs, shifting slightly so he’s closer to you, his arm draped over your waist. “I got your letter.” His eyes flicker to yours, gauging your reaction. “Not the one you meant to send, I’m guessing?” Instantly, heat rushes to your face. “Oh my god,” you groan, rolling onto your back to cover your face with your hands. “I knew I sent the wrong one.” Beomgyu chuckles, gently pulling your hands away. “Hey, don’t hide from me,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. “I read it. Every word.” His voice turns quieter, more serious. “And it wasn’t exactly what I expected… but it wasn’t unwelcome either.”

You blink up at him, confusion giving way to something else—hope. “What?” He exhales a small laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve liked you for so long, but I kept convincing myself I didn’t. I told myself it was just friendship, that I’d get over it, that you didn’t feel the same.” His expression is open, vulnerable, and it makes your heart ache in the best way. “But then I read that letter, and I realized… maybe I wasn’t the only one scared of ruining this.” The words settle over you, and suddenly, everything makes sense. You were never losing Beomgyu—not to fame, not to time, and certainly not to unspoken feelings. Instead, you’ve found something even better, something you were too afraid to reach for before. “I was scared too,” you admit, fingers tracing absent patterns against the fabric of his shirt. “Scared of losing you, scared of things changing. But Gyu… I don’t want to keep pretending.” His lips twitch into a soft smile, his arm tightening around you as he tugs you closer. There’s no more hesitation. No more hiding. Just warmth. Just him. He leans in again, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before resting his against yours. “No more letters. No more hiding,” he whispers, his voice as familiar and comforting as ever. “Just us.” And as you nod, letting your fingers tangle with his, you realize the truth—this isn’t the end of something, it’s the start. You haven’t lost a friend. You’ve gained a love that’s always been there, just waiting for the right moment. “Just us,” you whisper back, smiling as the rain continues to fall outside.

#txt smut #txt #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu hard hours #ari🌸

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semperama · 22 days ago

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hi erin you should tell us all about what you think happened after ryan followed oliver through the doors of the hotel and they went upstairs together 👀

"Get in here," Oliver says, fingers hooked in Ryan's collar.

"Why are you so bossy?" Ryan stumbles after him, through the door, and he honestly doesn't know which room this is, his or Oliver's, but who cares, who even cares.

"Why are you so infuriating?" Oliver says. Ryan loves how he says it, his accent dancing staccato over each syllable, the 'ing' transformed into a crisp 'en'. He kicks the door shut hard, and they probably just woke up half the hall, but all Ryan can do is giggle.

"How come you can even say infuri--infur--?" He laughs harder, falling against Oliver and pushing his face into his shoulder. He could have sworn they were matching each other drink for drink, but when Oliver starts shaking with laughter, it feels more like he's laughing at him than with him. "Shut up, bro."

"Don't call me 'bro' right now," Oliver says, pushing him backward and stripping his jacket down his arms at the same time. "These fucking suspenders."

"Yeah?" Ryan asks, suddenly breathless. Even more breathless when Oliver grabs the suspenders and uses them to swing him against the wall next to the door, his back hitting it hard enough to make his teeth clack together. Still, he recovers enough to add, grinning, "You want me to call you 'babygirl' instead?"

"Don't you dare," Oliver says, and then proceeds to shove his tongue into Ryan's mouth so he can't.

They do this sometimes. Usually when they've been drinking, but not always. There are no rules. It's a certain glint in Oliver's eye or a tug in Ryan's gut, the way the air crackles between them. They do it, but they don't talk about it, and it's back to normal in the morning.

"Did you do this on purpose?" Oliver asks, mouth against his jaw as he tugs on the suspenders again and then lets them snap against Ryan's chest. Ryan hisses, digs his fingers into Oliver's waist.

"Not everything is about you, babygirl," he says. Only after the words are out does he hear the echo of Eddie in his head, You'd make it all about you, again. He wonders how Buck would like being called 'babygirl'. He thinks Buck would like it.

"I hate you so much," Oliver says, but his mouth is curved into a grin against the skin of Ryan's neck. He kisses down to the base of Ryan's throat and flattens his tongue there, and Ryan rolls his hips forward, and they both groan.

"Bed," Ryan says. "Come on, bed."

He tries to push Oliver backward, but he doesn't budge, his bulk pinning Ryan to the wall. "Nuh-uh," Oliver says. "Not letting you get undressed." He runs his fingers down the suspenders, and then hooks them in the waistband of Ryan's pants. "Just get your dick out."

"Fuck," Ryan breathes as Oliver drops to his knees. His hands go to Oliver's head automatically, raking against the crunch of gel out of his curls, but Oliver grabs him by the wrists and pushes him away.

"What did I just say?" he says.

Between the alcohol and the arousal, Ryan feels like he's moving through jello as he fumbles with his fly. It's not easy, fishing himself through the slit in his briefs when he's most of the way to drunk and still so fucking hard. How long has he been hard? It feels like most of the night, but that can't be right. Someone would have noticed.

"Yeah," Oliver says, like he can't help himself, when Ryan finally frees his cock, strokes it twice. Oliver leans in, tongue out, and Ryan curses under his breath as he feeds himself right into Oliver's mouth.

It's amazing how it always feels like the first fucking time. Ryan still gets the same little illicit thrill down his spine, the same swoop in his gut. It feels insane that Oliver would even want him, but there he is, kneeling in front of him, tugging Ryan's suspenders again to pull him deeper into his mouth.

Ryan's hands go back to Oliver's hair, crunching it in his grip this time to get the product out of it, get to the soft curls underneath. He pulls a little, and Oliver pulls the suspenders in return, and somehow they get into a rhythm, Ryan fucking shallowly into Oliver's mouth, Oliver urging him on, groaning around him. He keeps trying to pull Ryan into his throat, but Ryan can see the drool leaking from the corners of his mouth, and this suit doesn't belong to him. Neither of them are strangers to being careful with a costume; it's second nature. This isn't a costume, technically, but it feels like one. It feels like Ryan has been wearing one all night, but it's stripped away a little more each time Oliver swallows around him.

Sweat sticks the shirt to Ryan's back, and he keeps reaching up to brush his hair out of his face. With alcohol sloshing through his veins, everything feels sloppy and syrupy and warm. He reaches down and presses his thumb to the corner of Oliver's plush mouth, and Oliver hums, and Ryan realizes, suddenly, how close he is. His grip slackens in Oliver's hair, and he lets Oliver take over entirely, yanking him forward again, again, every now and again letting the suspenders snap against his stomach with a sharp, satisfying pop.

"Please," he hears himself say, distantly, and then Oliver pulls him deeper, face pressed to the front of Ryan's pants after all, and Ryan's orgasm kicks him in the gut. He shoots into Oliver's mouth, feels him swallow, looks down and meets his eyes and gasps against the way his heart tries to jump into his throat.

"Come here, come here," he says while he's still coming down from it, but Oliver is one step ahead of him, getting to his feet and tugging Ryan's shirttails out of his pants, fumbling with the buttons. Somehow Oliver manages to get Ryan's shirt open beneath the suspenders while Ryan jerks Oliver's fly open, and then their hands meet on Oliver's cock, wrapping around it together, stripping it hard and fast.

"Mmm, gonna mess up your slutty waist," Oliver says, and Ryan feels the blood rush to his face as he leans in to kiss the shit-eating grin off Oliver's lips.

It takes no time at all before Oliver is spilling warm over Ryan's skin, collapsing forward so he's grinding out the last of his release, their hands trapped together between their bodies. The suit is going to be unsalvageable after all, but Ryan doesn't fucking care. He buries his nose behind Oliver's ear and breathes him in, feels the flutter of his pulse. If they move, his knees might give out, so he's happy to stay here while Oliver's come drips down his abs.

"Shower?" Oliver asks after a minute, but he doesn't move except to press a kiss to Ryan's collarbone.

Ryan peels his eyes open and looks around. "Are we in my room or yours?"

Oliver chuckles, pulls back enough to look at him. "Mine," he says. "Come on. You can borrow some of my clothes after."

The thought of it makes Ryan blush--which seems silly, given what they just did. Oliver notices, reaches up to chase the heat of it with his thumb. They have shit to do tomorrow, and it's going to be hard enough with a hangover and too little sleep. But for this moment, Ryan doesn't care. He lets Oliver take his hand and tug him toward the bathroom. He can't stop smiling.

#ryliver #911 show #this took longer than i thought it was going to but i got so sucked in #i would have just put it on ao3 but i'm deliriously tired now lol #i wanted to push through and finish it!!#and it's probably too late to be posting it but whatever. bon appetit.

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gothicfied · 16 days ago

Text

THE DEVIL IN YOUR EYES WON'T DENY THE LIES

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem!reader, best friends to ???

Summary: Even though it seems like Jude and you were always destined to be with each other, he wouldn't realize it until someone said it directly to his face. After months on plotting on your best friend, who drops hints here and there even if he didn't want to, he is now suddenly rumored to be mingling with another girl. She can't stand your guts and she'll make sure you know that.

Word Count: ~6.5k

Reading Time: ~26 minutes

Warnings: Mentions of drinking alcohol, Jude is kinda an asshole but not really, girl on girl hate, reader is struggling with her feelings for 99% of the time, Jude's stupid and proves himself to be stupid multiple times, mutual pining (if you squint), no happy ending/it's an open ending, not proof read (English isn't my first language)

A/N: omg seriously, I don't know what possessed me to do this. This is unnecessarily long and tbh I've never written a fanfic this long before. This took like a week and I think you can notice that in the way my quality of writing deteriorates LMAOOO sorry, the ending fell a bit flat, but I just didn't have the motivation anymore, especially after the literal DEVASTATING news of Lukita leaving the club????This calls for a part 2 tho, but only if it's really wanted this time. Title are lyrics from "back to friends" by sombr lolololol

It wasn't always easy being linked to one of the most popular footballers in the world. Even if the public was hit in the face with the fact that you and Jude were just friends, they wouldn't get it. And, it wasn't even like you guys never clarified it. In every interview, the footballer was asked at least once or twice about you and you couldn't even post an instagram story without people flooding your DM's with questions like:

"are you Jude's girlfriend???"

"can you guys just make it public?"

"you know it's legal, right?"

You and Jude. Well, you go way back. Okay, however far 'way back' goes with only 21 years of age. You had transferred schools in 6th grade and while everyone kind of ignored you on your first day, Jude didn't. He sat next to you in class, did group projects with you when no one else seemed to want to partner up with you, ate lunch with you when the only two friends you had were sick or just not in school... there were a lot of things he did out of pure kindness and platonic love that helped you through middle school. It wasn't like you were bullied or purposefully left out, it just seemed like you were to unnoticeable.

The two of you were inseparable by the time highschool started. Jude was doing the most with his talent in football and you were always right there cheering him on. His family loved you, your family loved him, it was almost like a future together was already carved out for you. You'd comfort him after a horrible loss, Jude would stay up hours just to study with you in your worst subject, and the both of you would sometimes sneak out to the park on random summer nights to stargaze. That's where the heavy stuff was shared.

"You have no idea.. I feel so secondary to my sister." You complained after your parents forgot one of your hockey games again, just because your younger sister had this math exam she so desperately needed to study for, with both mom and dad. Bullshit. She knew she was good enough and yet she still threw a fuss, just to annoy you. That's the kind of person she was: an attention seeker. "Shut up," Jude barked back, but there was no actually bite to his words, "you're not secondary to anyone! I'm being serious, your parents and sister are the problem. Not you." He slowly turned his gaze away from the night sky, stars shining as bright as they could in the light pollution of the city. "I'm just... Thank you for being there. Even if we didn't win." You also turned your head in his direction and met his eyes, ones so pretty you thought you were going to choke on your own spit. "You're always there for me, too. I'd be stupid if I missed your games!"

The first very big change came with Jude's transfer to Borussia Dortmund. Really, Germany?

You cried, and cried.. and cried some more when the day finally came where he had to move, to pursue is dreams. Sure, they were mostly tears of sadness and frustration and maybe you were a little mad at him, but you couldn't deny the proud feeling you had when you saw his debut. Jude in this big stadium with an even bigger fanbase cheering him on felt so right. He deserved it all, because you knew how much sweat, blood and tears were already invested into his football career.

But don't think he had forgotten about you! Anytime you could because of school and stuff, Jude would fly you out to his games. Proudly, you wore the last name 'Bellingham' on the back of your jersey, which always fell quite a bit too big on you. The footballer insisted on giving you his shirts after a game.. That just meant you had to wash the god damn thing four or five times to get all the sweat and the smell of grass out of it. Denise, Jude's mom, thought it was the cutest thing ever, always taking pictures of you whenever you attended a game with her.

Truth be told, Denise was more of a mom to you than your own parents. As the oldest, you felt left out and ignored by your parents because of your sister anyway, but when your baby brother was born, it was like you didn't exist for them anymore. Then, it kind of turned into a tradition for you to spend days like New Years at Jude's house. His father, Mark, helped you with your Uni applications and Jobe, his younger brother, had always treated you like family anyway.

It didn't come to a suprise that they'd take you on vacation, too. One time, there was a mix up with the rooms and, no matter how much Mark and Denise begged Jobe to just share the room with his older brother for a few days until things got sorted out, he flat out refused. "No! He's messy, leaves his clothes everywhere and kicks me in his sleep! I'm not doing that again."

Now that you were sharing the hotel room with Jude, you started to wonder how this shit would mess with your feelings about him. Yeah.. you may or may not have developed a slight crush on your best friend in the last couple of months, fueled by the tiktoks people made about the two of you. Jude was obviously not ashamed to post you in his story whenever you were together, apparently giving people the impression that there was something more going on. Oh, you wished it was like that.

You were sharing a bed. It was very late at night and all you could think about was one Insta gossip page posting about yours and Jude friendship... relationship? It was on your feed, it's not like you intentionally searched for it! You were quickly ripped from your thoughts when you felt a large hand slide over your stomach and pull you closer as soon as the half-awake Jude realized it was you that he grabbed and not a pillow. After that, he went right back to snoring. No shot he'd remeber doing this the morning after, but you were just giggling to yourself now. He likes you... he just has to!

The whole sharing-a-room-on-vacation thing became a tradition, too. You obviously didn't mind it, Jude didn't either. Whenever he thought you were sleeping, which you sometimes even were, he'd carefully put his arms around your neck or waist or anything and hold you close until he fell asleep himself. Then, the next morning, he'd act as if he was just as suprised as you at the way you both were tangled up in bed.

It also became your reality when he transferred to Real Madrid. Wow, Spain. This was it. Hopefully his club forever, since you were a big fan, too. Jude's debut there was nothing short of breathtaking, and skipping Uni to come down to Spain was all worth it — Especially for the hug he gave you after he sought you out in the tunnel. He ran to you like a little child to his mother, picked you up and spun you around while all you could do was squeal and laugh. You couldn't even try to pry yourself from his grip, not that you wanted to anyway. The post match interview was surely interesting.

"And, tell us, who's your biggest supporter outside your family? Probably the girl you've been taking with you everywhere you go, huh?" The interviewer of some sport programm you didn't know asked Jude, to which he just laughed and scratched the back of his neck. "Yes, yes! Her, of course.. who else?" He looked nervous when answering that question. And he was, definitely in that moment, because he felt like the whole world was watching him trying to not make it obvious that he had a huge thing for you. "Girlfriend?" The interviewer asked again, to which he shook his head: "Oh, nooo... I love her, you know, but we're best friends. Not.. Not together."

This brings you to now. Laying in the bed of the guestroom in his huge house in Madrid. It's summer and even the nights here have you sweating like no tomorrow. Not only that, but you can't sleep. You stare at your phone with your instagram feed open, a picture of you and Jude plasted right on the screen with the all-too-well-known 'Owkayy' starting the rampage this WAG fan account was always on. It's a picture of the both of you right after Real Madrid won the Champions League just a little over a month ago, with Jude staring down at you like he was dying to kiss you. Next slide was a picture of you comforting him after the loss against Spain in the EUROs just like two weeks ago. You'll never escape the rumors.

Everyone and their mom was convinced you belonged to each other. And, that thought made you so happy, you could even overlook the threats his fan girls sent you in your DMs. Who cares what they think, right? Everybody on the planet thinks you'll be with him!

There was this one other thing, though. Because obviously, you couldn't even have one thing to yourself in your life.

This influencer from the States, Amy or whatever her name was, you didn't really care enough to look, has been linked to Jude more often than you wanted.

Truth is, obviously you cared enough to look. Amy Samuels, 25 years old, beauty influencer, lives in New York, has two brothers and a step-sister, models in her spare time... She was everything you're not.

She was this beautiful blonde girl with the most piercing green eyes you had ever seen, her makeup always looked flawless and worst of all, she seemed down to earth. You thought maybe she was one of those unlikable, snobby instagram models slash influencers slash entrepreneurs, but no. She was a family person, had a cute dog she always posts picrures of and actually did her job pretty well.

You knew better than to let yourself get fooled by the image she puts up on social media, but her smile made it hard to forget that she seemed to be absolutely perfect. How Amy and Jude even got to know each other personally, you don't know. It must've happened over last summer or something, the time where you couldn't come to visit him, but had to stay home because of school stuff. And well, frankly because your life revolves around more than just Jude Bellingham.

There's countless of instagram stories she uploded with the same location tagged at the same time when he was there. One location in particular, you recognized right away: His bathroom. Not the bathroom of the guestroom, or the normal one out on the hallway, no. His. Bathroom. It made your blood boil. But why? In the end, isn't it your own fault for not telling him about your feelings sooner? On the other hand, he's been leading you on. You were so convinced you guys were soulmates, practically made for each other.

The emotional bond between you seemed to never loosen, no matter what you guys were put through. There were times where your friendship was definitely tested: that one toxic ex boyfriend you had in 11th grade, who absolutely refused to let you be friends with any male. When you tried to explain that to Jude, he was ready to go beat that guy up. He'd never tell you how relieved he was when you showed up crying at his doorstep, because you finally gathered the courage to break up with him.

"I feel.. I feel like—" You paused and sniffled hard, tears streaming down your face and there was nothing Jude could do to stop it. "such an idiot." To say he was startled to have you text him so late at night, asking if he was still awake because you really, really, really needed him right now was an understatement. But, thankfully he managed to smuggle you into his room without waking anyone in the house. Now you're just sitting on his bed, pouring your heart out about everything your now-ex had done to you in the last few months. Jude held you close, extremely close that night. After about an hour of violently crying into his chest, you had falled asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. The boy was wide awake, though, and surely didn't get any sleep at all. He cradled your face to his chest, his fingers gently threading through your hair to calm you down whenever you'd slightly stirr awake again. He felt so many emotions in that moment, mostly because he always thought he was the worst at comforting people, but you seemed to feel safe enough to fall asleep in his arms. That's what counted to Jude.

You were there when Dortmund lost in the UCL final to comfort him when he cried on your shoulder after getting in the car. The whole car ride long, you held his hand, telling him how good he played regardless and that the trophy is going to be his next season. Jude didn't reply. He stared out of the window, but you didn't mind. Back in the hotel room, he hugged you for what felt like an eternity, thanked you and kissed you on your forehead. Yeah, you guys have been through the worst.

Jude took you to any award ceremony as his plus one. For the longest time, a picture of the two of you on the night he won The Golden Boy Award was his lockscreen. And now? He's going to throw that away. His obvious feelings for you. He's not going to stop you whenever you kiss him on the cheek, hold his hand, sleep in the same bed as him. He won't correct himself when other people refer to you as his girlfriend and he'll laugh along whenever his parents call you their 'daughter-in-law'.

Oh, what a fucking asshole he is.

You think back to the time where Jude told you about a 'new acquaintance' he made while on a trip in New York. He'd talk about Amy from time to time, naming her a friend of his and sometimes you'd even see her at functions or parties or when going out with his friends. Somehow, she was always there. You never really thought anything of it, until those Instagram stories started to pop up and new rumors about Jude's dating life started to bubble. Suddenly, everyone around you was asking the same thing: 'Aren't you guys together?'

...

You woke up just as cranky as when you fell asleep with your phone in hand, the clock on the wall ticking being the only sound that filled the room. Denise was out of the country, just to visit Jobe for an exchange and to 'leave the house for you and Jude' wink, wink. God, how was it already this warm outside? August in Spain was no joke. You woke up sweating and you went to bed sweating, no matter how much deodorant you put on or if you showered like three times.

It was already 11am when you stepped out of the shower and brushed through your wet hair to let it air dry. You haven't heard a single peep from Jude yet, but maybe he was just letting you sleep in.

Your suspicions were proven to be true, when you made your way downstairs to find him making breakfast. The sound of your bare feet against the glass steps made Jude cock his head in your direction, smiling sweetly when getting a glimpse of you. "Thought you died up there, not gonna lie." He chuckled, but you were really not in the mood for it right now. Instead, you just groaned in slight annoyance and sat down on the couch, which was right in front of the open kitchen.

"Okay.." Jude came up to you, plate in hand. It was an attempt at making you your favorite bagel, which he's been trying to get right ever since you came back from your vacation in the US, craving it.

"Not funny?"

"No?"

"What's up with you today?"

"I just— Didn't sleep well, that's all."

After you took the plate out of his hand, Jude sat down next to you, stretching like he had just worked a 12-hour-shift just to sneakily put his arm around your shoulders. You were wearing one of his jerseys, but he still 'had' to push your hair to the front to check if it was his last name on your back. "It looks really good on you, you know?" Whatever you might've seen last night, no matter how mad you were at him or how frustrated you were with your feelings, that comment made you smile. You really tried not to, you tried looking away and pretend like the pool outside was more interesting than this conversation, but of course, Jude picked up on that. "I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah..." You rolled your eyes, "Thank you."

While you guys were having breakfast, Jude mentioned some party one of his new friends here in Madrid were throwing, even though he said it was more like a hangout with friends than an occasion to get super drunk. He obviously wanted you to come with, to which you first complained about: Those were his friends, not yours. You already knew you were probably going to be left out and it will just turn boring super quickly. Although Jude's spanish wasn't great, he at least knew some. Also, you were so sure she was going to be there too. Especially when he said there won't be just his spanish friends there.

"Look, they really wanna meet you. All of them." You gave him a weird look, sipping on your water. "You're a liar." What on earth could he have told them about you to make them so interested. There was nothing to you, except the occasional rumors about the relationship between the two of you. You led your own private life and you were happy with it. "Come on, it'll be fun. I swear." You really shouldn't. "If you feel uncomfortable, we'll leave."

"Oh my god, fine."

...

It was just as you had predicted. Your best friend of the night was the host's, Rafael's, dog. The golden retriever was resting his head on your lap while you admired his beautifully soft, golden fur. Every now and then you heard your name in a conversation others were having in spanish, followed by a question stringed out in bad english, about your life and football. The ones who also didn't speak the common language in the house were somehow still incorporated into the conversation. Maybe it was you, maybe it was the fact that you didn't really want to be there and others caught up on that. Or maybe it was because all your attention lied on Jude and Amy, who had been having a conversation for at least 20 minutes in the kitchen now.

You knew you shouldn't sit there and feel sorry for yourself, because it was pathetic and stupid. Why get so worked up because of a boy? You're not his girlfriend, not his situationship, not his talking stage. A right to be jealous of some random girl never existed. Weird feelings brewed in you, like you're going to explode if they don't stop. She's giggling at his jokes, touching his arm in a specific way that made your stomach turn, and he was entertaining all of it.

You were staring for too long, apparently. Long enough for Amy to notice. When her eyes locked onto yours, it's like all the life disappeared out of them. Her expression immediately turned sour, filled with condescension and some type of disgust, you were pretty sure. Quickly, you turned your head away from their direction, rather focusing on the dog laying in your lap. Amy, on the other hand, decided she didn't want you to ever lay your eyes on them together again, taking Jude by the arm and dragging him to god knows where. You didn't notice, you didn't even dare to look back after a few minutes. Your face felt hot, like shame had been written on your forehead with a red sharpie.

"Here, I made this for you. You kind of look like you need it." Said a girl who suddenly popped up next to you on the couch. Most other people have started lounging around outside, so it had quieted down significantly. In her hand was a drink and first you thought about taking it twice, since she was a stranger and all. "Take it. It's not poisoned or anything." So you did.

The girl introduced herself as Mirabell, a friend of a friend of someone here you didn't know. But she knew you.

"You're Judes Girlfriend.. right?" Mirabell asked very carefully, like she was dreading the answer to the question already. "What? Oh, no. We're best friends." Your response made her sigh relief and laugh, lightly hitting your shoulder. "Jesus! Thank god you are. I really didn't want to explain how he had taken off with Amy. Like, you know, as if he was cheating. But he isn't! Because you're not a couple!" At this point you were pretty sure she shouldn't drink any more alcohol.

Mirabell turned out to be very nice and funny, and finally someone who was willing to have a normal conversation with you. She was also the one who dragged you outside, after you got tipsy enough to not be so shy anymore, and properly introduced you to her friends. After literal hours, you felt like you at least had a right to be here.

At some point, it was just you again, leaning over the railing of the balcony and watching the small cars drive by on the streets beneath you. The alcohol flowing through your veins made it feel like you were way higher up than you actually were, making you grip the metal under your fingers like you'd fall if you didn't. You let your eyes sheepishly wander over the scenery in front of you, taking in the cold breeze of the night that came like blessing in the usual warm weather. It was so peaceful and quiet, with no one bothering you. It almost made you forget all your worries. Almost.

You were promptly ripped out of your thoughts when you heard the balcony door slide open and someone step out. "You okay?" A familiar voice rang through your ears, and thankfully you weren't quite drunk enough to not recognize who it was. "Yeah, don't worry about me." You replied to Jude's question, turning around to face him. He had a small smile on his face while eyeing you up and down.

"Come on, let's go."

"Wait, why?"

"I didn't get to spend time with you at all. And, I'm sorry for that. Let's go back home and maybe we can get something to eat on the way?"

Your interest was piqued when you realized he must've actually felt bad leaving you all alone to go with this... girl. After a moment of pondering, you agreed and let him drag you through the apartment by your hand, obviously planning to make an irish exit.

"Jude wait! Where are you going?" Oh great. You could've recognized that voice from anywhere. Embarrasingly so. It was just that you had to watch every one of her Reels to check if there was actually nothing wrong with her. And sadly, maybe sadly, her content was actually quite enjoyable. Amy yanked at his arm, the one with which he was still holding you hand, making him let go of you. You quickly whipped your head around, giving her a look like she had just insulted your mother with that gesture, but Amy didn't seem like she even cared enough to look your way.

"We're going home?" Jude replied in a matter-of-factly way, making Amy giggle nervously. "But why? I thought.. you know, I'd come over later. Why are you taking her with you?" Her eyes first dropped down to your shoes, than your shorts and top and finally your face. That short moment alone made you feel so small in her presence alone, especially when she looked at you like you were an alien. You didn't even know women could hate other women this much. She didn't even know you.

Jude, while being a man, didn't let that go as unnoticed as the blonde probably would've liked, and removed his arm from her grip. "She's literally staying with me. Didn't I explain that to you?" Amy tried playing it off again with a laugh and apologized.

After a bit of small talk, where she interrogated you about your friendship with Jude, while he was getting your jackets, you were finally out of there. Amy's words stung more than you liked to admit. Even if you didn't have a crush on Jude, even if you weren't jealous of her, no one wants to hear that. And even if with the confidence given by the couple of drinks you had, you still couldn't stand up for yourself. Reason number one billion why you felt so pathetic.

...

"Sooo, did you still have fun without me? I know, hard to imagine you can, right?"

You didn't say anything.

"That was a joke."

"I know it was. And I did."

He didn't say anything.

"Yes I did too! Thank you for asking!"

"Sorry."

The whole car ride back to Jude's place felt off and awkward. He wasn't stupid. He knew why. Maybe not to the extend where he could come to the conclusion that you liked him, but he knew it was something about Amy.

Seeing you so slumped in your car seat made him knit his eyebrows together. It was like a war was going on inside of him: Did he like you... or did he like her? He's 21 and can't even figure his love life out. This felt like some highschool bullshit that he really didn't want to to deal with anymore.

In the next couple of days, he tried not to bring Amy up again. He used to, in some conversations at least or he'd even ask you what you think her favorite flowers were, or what kind of jewelry would fit her aesthetic. Jude thought you were just sensitive to the topic because you were jealous she got more attention than you did. Did you really think a man would be smart enough to realize any of his mistakes here?

Two nights later, you were on the phone with your girl best friend back at home, Alicia. You had already cried your heart out to her in the past, complaining about how Jude was giving you such mixed signals and then pretended like nothing happened the next day. "Girl, I'm being serious. You have to set things straight or else it'll tear you apart." She said, sounding tired and concerned. You hated bothering her so much with your stupid problems that actually had an easy fix.

"Oh my fucking god," You mumbled to yourself, half asleep, half still focusing on the chat with Mirabell. It was way too late to function correctly, but when your new friend texted you 20 minutes ago with an invitation to go to the club with her, you woke up a little again. Should you come along? Maybe you'd meet someone to get your mind off if him.

You sighed and texted her back: "Yeah, sounds great!"

...

Carefully, you walked down the stairs in your heels, already regretting your decision to wear them. Jude was waiting for you at the front door, focused on his phone while his fingers tapped away at the screen. He looked good. Too good for your liking. With his shirt buttoned down a bit, shorts hanging low and sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose, you could think he was doing it on purpose. The sound of your heels clicking against the floor made him lift his head in your direction and grin.

"Woah," Jude chuckled, feigning shock at how good you looked. "You look.. amazing tonight. Who are you trying to impress?" That line alone proved to you that he was an idiot. A complete idiot you've been wasting you time on. On the other hand, you would be lying if you said his compliments didn't make your heart flutter. It was so odd: Jude looked at you like you were the light of his life, gave you compliments like you were the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, yet he'll still immediately turn his back on you when he spots Amy at the club. "Thank you."

You tried to pretend like everything was normal, engaging in your usual banter while on the way to the spot y'all had agreed to meet up at. It was hard to ignore your feelings, not only for him but about this situation as a whole. In your mind, you were overreacting or even exaggerating your own problems to justify feeling bad for yourself. These were your last three days in Spain and you also just felt awful treating Jude in a way he didn't deserve, since he didn't really do anything wrong.

The feelings of shame and anger, mixed with a fun group of people, music and alcohol was calling for a disaster. Immediately after getting together with the group, you shifted your focus on Mirabell and other people, just to save yourself from the venomous looks Amy gave you.

You definitely had your fun getting to know new people, drinking and vibing to the music. Rafael, the guy from a few days ago, was very obviously hitting on you and was great at making you feel comfortable around him.

Maybe a little too comfortable.

Seeing Amy basically sit on Jude's lap in the booth next to you made all the feelings you've been bottling up the past week spill over. Right when Rafael took you to the bar to get a new drink, he noticed how your mood had dropped. And after asking if everything's okay, you couldn't hold it in anymore. While you didn't cry, you did complain about the situation quite a bit, very emotionally.

"Yeah, I kinda knew he was an asshole," Rafael said while looking down at you. You were leaning against the wall next to the emergency exit, where things were a little quieter than at your booth. "I know that now, too." You didn't know if the last Lemon Drop you had was making you feel like you were going to throw up or if the situation just upset you this much.

You wished you didn't care for it. You wished you were nonchalant enough to let these last few days pass over and then crash out when you're back home. But you weren't and you won't. Rafael, while only really knowing you for two hours, tried his best to comfort you.

What you didn't see was how Jude eventually approached you guys out of nowhere, seemingly annoyed 'catching' you with one of his good friends. It wasn't for that reason that he came up to you, though: "Hey.." He slightly yelled over the volume of the music. You could feel the bass boost in your whole body. Jude looked at Rafael and then back to you, confused, irritated maybe, but it also seemed like he was in a hurry. "What?" Rafael responded back, doing you a favor of speaking for you when you clearly couldn't. "Is she okay? I just want to talk to her." The Spaniard in front of you gestures Jude to come closer in an annoyed manner, because he couldn't hear him. After repeating himself for like three times, which Rafael was making him do on purpose given his smirk, Jude just gave up and leaned to you.

"I... Me and Amy are gonna leave and walk around in the city for a bit. Do you need me to drive you back?"

"I'll take her back to yours."

Jude shot his friend a glare, but you just agreed with Rafael. The look they gave each other was enough to kill.

"Go. That girl is waiting for you, isn't she?"

Rafael gestured to Amy who was just standing a few meters away. That stupid grin on her face made your blood boil.

...

What was up with you? Jude couldn't make a single thing out. The past week you've been acting so strange and he missed you. Missed the old you. He thought that might be corny, since this is probably something easily fixable, but he couldn't help thinking that way. What had upset you so much? Why did his own friend seem so annoyed with him?

Amy and Jude were strolling alongside a river and she kept pretending she was almost too drunk to walk, purposefully falling over to grip his arm. She was talking about some thing her girl friends did without her — Like a brunch or something. He didn't really care and didn't make the effort to at least look like he was interested. His thoughts lied on you and if Rafael really took you back home. What if he didn't? What if you liked him enough to go back to his place? What would he do if one of his friends would be interested in you? What would he—

"Jude!" Amy snapped her fingers in his face to get him out of his trance. "God, what is up with you? Is your alcohol tolerance that low?" She was clearly joking, but Jude didn't laugh alongside her. He made a comment about how she should never even dare to snap her fingers at him like that again and that he's seen her do it multiple times now. "That's serious not okay." Jude said, "people around you aren't dogs."

Only silence followed that.

Suddenly, after he kind of destroyed the mood, Amy seemed to be able to walk just fine on her own. It made Jude scoff.

"Don't tell me you're seriously thinking about her." Her tone was so foul, it gave Jude goosebumps. "Seriously! Oh my god, you can't be serious!" She raised her voice, "She? Her? That girl? Are you serious?" Up until this point none of the two had even talked about you for one second. That Amy immediately knew what Jude was thinking about made him think.

"Amy," Jude stopped dead in his tracks, pulling her back by her hand as she tries to keep walking. "What the fuck is your problem?" Now his tone was bitter. Ever since the two of them got to know each other, there always seemed to be a certain dislike towards you from Amy and he really didn't understand why. How could anyone hate you? Ever?

"What? In general or with her?" Amy tried making light out of the situation again, laughing like he just made one of his stupid jokes again. Was it insecurity? Did you make her feel insecure? The longer Jude looked at her, the less he understood his own actions. His feelings? his decisions, his past.. they don't lead to her. Nowhere even near her. What the fuck was his problem?

"You are.. you are so selfish. Do you know that? Actually, I think your just mean," Jude took a deep breath, "You're miserable, is that it? I don't have another explanation for your behavior around other women. She's my best friend and you've only ever talked crap about her." Amy's face didn't drop in the slightest. No, it seemed like has been preparing for the conversation.

"What are you yelling at me for? She's the one cockblocking you from every other girl you meet!" The two were lucky no one else was on the same small path as them right now. The river seemed to absorb their yelling with it's sounds. "You take her everywhere you go. I don't get it! She's the definition of mid! Mid tier! Has done nothing successful in her life! Jude, please, she's just using you for fame."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Jude looked at Amy like she just said the most outrageous thing in the world. To him, she did. "You know what?" Without raising his voice any more, Jude did a 180 and walked away from her, the frustration visible in his steps.

"Wait! No, Jude! Where are you going?"

...

With how fast Jude arrived back home, you could've thought someone died or something. Treating Madrid like a Mario Kart Track, he raced home in under five minutes and was now fiddling around in his pockets to find his keys. Jude was cursing himself, because he understood now. He finally understood and he felt so stupid.

He sighed with relief when he saw you had parked your heels right at the door when he stepped inside. The TV in the living room was on, but when he called out your name, it didn't seem like you were there.

Jude assumed you were upstairs in your— The guest room, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the lights through the small crack at the bottom of the door. He knocked, gently, and said your name: "I know you're in there.. Please tell me you're in there." Why wouldn't you be? You had no where else to go.

"I'm so sorry."

No reaction.

"Please talk to me".

No reaction.

Jude sighed.

"I'm stupid. And an asshole and a bastard and I know I messed up. Please, yell at me, insult me, do literally anything!"

Inside your room, you were trying to tune him out. You were laying in bed, looking up at the ceiling with your eyebrows knitted together and your arms crossed over your chest. You didn't feel like crying, surprisingly. You thought, when this moment finally comes, you'd fold in a millisecond and pour your heart out to Jude, but no.

After a moment, your feelings did end up betraying you felt the lump in your throat get more painful by the second. You heard a sound from just outside your door — Jude had sat down on the floor, resting his back against the doorframe.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm— That's all I can say."

Why is he making this so damn difficult for you?

"I'll sit here until you want to talk, okay? I'll sit here all night if I have to."

Yeah, safe to say both of you wouldn't be sleeping that night.

#jude bellingham #real madrid #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #real madrid x reader #football x reader #footballer x reader #football imagine #football fanfic #Spotify

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douqhnxtss · 3 months ago

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ EFFORTLESSLY EASY ⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚✧˖°.

𝓱𝘶𝘩 𝔂𝘶𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘯 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗍, 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾'𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗈 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝗋? 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦?

✧ academic rivals to lovers, fluff, angst (?) if you squint, one-sided pining, one-sided rivalry (by reader), reader in denial, reader hates but loves yunjin, flirty!yunjin, nonidol!au, university!au, death (of a bad person), partying, mentions of getting drunk and kissing, lots of love talk, downbad!yunjin, proofread — topstudent!yunjin x fem!reader ⋆ wc! 3.4k °° whooo!! longest one yet!! I love this sm, sorry for the lack of content, finals r coming up, updates will be delayed and I'm out of ideas tbh, so send some asks!! honestly can't believe I wrote this in like 2 days and it's this long like I have a jeongyeon draft that ive been writing since JANUARY. And it's still only 50% done... likes n reblogs are appreciated <3

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

HUH YUNJIN WAS EFFORTLESSLY SMART. that's what you though by the way she managed to party all semester and still score first in the finals every single time ever since university.

even before uni, she still scored top in middle and high school while all she did was play with her four bestfriends. she was cocky about it too; always flaunted how she isn't even in her books all day and she's the top student.

you found her so annoying. it didn't help that she stuck by you everywhere you went either— the professors paired you two together, being the smartest in the class, her seat being beside yours in every lecture you two share, which is every single one.

yunjin was charismatic, and very flirty, too. she didn't even try to hide her liking for you. she chased after you every chance she'd get. you were soo her type: pretty, smart, wicked, introverted, you were her better half in her eyes.

you ignored her advances, each of them, in the most non-hostile way you could. however, doing so became harder every other time you had to do it. it wasn't that you didn't like her— well, you didn't like her, yeah, you totally didn't like her one bit, she was a little annoying, but you didn't hate her guts either.

someone you did hate with, forget your guts, every single fiber and cell in your body, was you mom. she was the devil incarnate in your eyes, your father passed away when you were around one and a half years old.

your mom was a big businesswoman, she was the ceo of her own company of cosmetics, one of the most viral brands of them around the globe. she had a golden reputation.

she couldn't let her reputation be ruined all because she made the mistake of falling in love and giving birth to a girl who couldn't even repay all the favors she'd done for her by studying.

"all you have to do is study."

"you better not go on the wrong track."

"love is useless, it only drags you down in life."

"ungrateful brat, you need to do one thing and one thing alone, study."

"paint? it's gonna get you nowhere. study? you'll get all that you desire."

she treated you like her puppet, she wanted you to be her shadow, be just like her. she raised you the way she was raised. under pressure, expectations and insults.

she'd cut all contact and fell in love back in her time and she'd had you, she was content. yet, after your dad passed, she'd forgotten who she was. she became the one she promised herself she'd never be, a toxic mom.

somewhere along the way, the lines between caring and controlling blurred for her, resulting in who she was now. she could've broken the cycle of toxicity, but she became a victim due to the circumstances pushed on her.

she forbid you of painting, something you loved with a lot of passion. she never let you go to a party, they were all just distractions in her words. you had better things to worry about, like your grades.

the thing that made you hate her most though, was how she had to pit you against yunjin like it was her lifeline. she couldn't be stopped, every meeting with her, once or rarely twice in a month, was filled to the brim with her complaining.

heck, you knew that the only reason you said you didn't like yunjin was because of your mom's nagging. there wasn't necessarily anything that ticked you off about yunjin.

it was all due to your mom and her constant nagging at you for always being second and never first. you tried, you really did try your hardest for every single test, whether it be a little quiz or your finals, you'd given it you all.

you did everything how she wanted you to, you didn't even remember the last time you'd graced your fingers over a paintbrush or when you'd picked up a pencil to draw a quick sketch or a cute doodle.

knowingly or unknowingly, you'd lost yourself, you rarely smiled, became more and more quiet than you already were, always stayed in the library, and it worried four people the most: yunjin, yena, wonyoung and chaeyeon. your academic rival and your three bestfriends.

it was ought to be another regular day like it'd been for the last few weeks— study, have a snack, study, maybe eat if you feel like it, sleep and repeat. to say your girlies were worried was an understatement.

as you were, for the umpteenth time, reassuring your bestfriends that you were okay; your phone rung. you looked at the bright screen to see the contact saved as mom.

you sighed before pulling the phone to your ear, picking up her call, "hello? is this y/n l/n?" a polite voice asked, your brows furrowed in confusion, why was a random lady talking to you from your mom's phone?

"yes, who is this?" you responded, a strange gut feeling that something was going to happen soon settling in your stomach. the woman from the other side took a deep breath before she began,

"i'm speaking from seraphinity hospital to inform you, with our condolences, that your mom, m/n l/n has passed away in a plane crash in her flight from kyoto, japan to seoul, korea. we're extremely sorry to inform such news to you, we'll send the few belongings that were found of her."

the line disconnected at that. you didn't know what to feel, the phone slipped out of your hands, falling on the desk on top of your book that you were reading prior.

unbeknownst to you, tears streamed down your face, uncontrollably. you didn't love, hell you didn't even like her, but at the end of the day, she was your mom, she brought you into the world.

your relationship was always limited to numbers and accomplishments, although the sharp realization that you wouldn't see her again stung really bad.

"she.. she's gone, yena, she's not here.." you needed to go back to your house right now. you grabbed your phone, running to the entrance of the library where a certain ginger tugged at your wrist.

"woah, what happened, sweets?" yunjin asked, she always called you sweets, you let her call you sweets, you did roll your eyes sometimes and lightly scoff though.

then another realization struck, how were you going to get to your house? you halted in your tracks, your butler came to drop you everytime and calling him here would take too long.

"earth to sweets?" she snapped her fingers near your face breaking you out of your trance to see her worried face, a deep frown etched on her features.

"you have a motorcycle, right?" in any other circumstance, you knew your mother would catch you dead in a motorcycle, but she wasn't here now and you needed to go.

her eyes shined and a little smile pulled up at the corners of her lips, "you wanna ride on my motorcycle, with just me?" there was a whole zoo having a field day in her stomach at the thought.

"yes, now come quick, i'll show you my address!" you pulled her hand in yours, dragging her to the parking lot. yunjin was glad you didn't even bother to look back as if you did, you would've saw her mouth hung open and ears colored pink.

she coughed, taking her keys and getting on the motorcycle, motioning you to get on while you stood there confused. "what? never rode a motorcycle before?" she asked sarcastically with a chuckle.

her face dropped in shock when you nodded.

"what have you even done, sweets?" she reached her hand out for you to take, you complied reluctantly, "swing your leg over and rest your foot on the foot rest."

you somehow sat behind her, scared if you'd survive the ride. she turned her head back to see you, your eyes glossy, cheeks puffed and tear stained— it made her heart clench at the sight. she didn't like to see you cry.

"hold me tight, sweets, you're house isn't super close and you need to be there as soon as possible." you slowly wrapped your arms around yunjin's waist, your face squished against her back, your face was red, which you chalked up to being so due to the crying not because of the ginger, duh.

──────── ✧✦

three months had passed since the incident, you were better now. after the initial grief, you had to admit, your health was better. with all the expectations off your shoulders, you were happy.

you weren't happy your mom wasn't here anymore, but you weren't sad wither. you were just happy with your life, it was still the same routine but you spend more time with your girlies now too.

which leads to now, you were with the three in a cute café close to your home, "oh my god, yunjin's hosting a party tonight!" chaeyeon exclaimed, "we should go!" wonyoung followed after.

"yes, i've been meaning to, you know, have a blast!" yena said dramatically before laying her head on the table. "you all can go." you said taking a sip of your matcha latte.

their eyes collectively narrowed, "no, you will come." yena whined shaking your shoulders making you giggle. "c'mon guys, i'm not into parties, i've never even been to a party!"

"yeah, we should change that, don't you think?" wonyoung looked at you with puppy eyes and held your hand. "it'll be fun, we promise!" chaeyeon gave you a bright smile.

"maybe some other time, okay? i won't bail!" you promised the three and they all sadly agreed, they wanted you to be more social, have some fun outside of your books, but books were your comfort, they knew that.

on your way back from the café to your home, it wasn't that far, so you decided to walk. this wouldn't have happened with your mom, she had a reputation, her daughter couldn't be seen walking the streets; she was a multi-millionare.

you hummed an incoherent tune as you walked in your big mansion, storing your shoes where they should be, hanging your purse and skipping to the living room to see yunjin with a wide grin and a gorgeous, tight, short black dress.

your jaw dropped, "what are you doing here?" she stood up, the dress in her hand, "you're coming to my party, go get ready, sweets." your jaw dropped impossibly more. the butler probably let her in as he knew who she was from their last encounter three months ago.

she giggled, shutting your mouth, "i know you love your silence and books, however, can't you just have one night of fun?" you thought hesitantly, the three were going too, it would be a fun surprise for them as well.

"and why would i agree to go to your party?" you persisted, you didn't even like her, for god's sake! then why did your stern eyes soften when her grin faltered for a second, eyes losing a little shine? you didn't know.

seeing yunjin like this made you second guess, you were agreeing for your girlies, not for yunjin, "don't look at me like that." you let out a sigh, making up your mind.

you faintly nodded and she lit up, "you don't own any makeup, but don't worry, i bought you lots of it!" she handed you a bag full of makeup that probably cost more than it should in your opinion.

"i picked shades i think would suit you, now come on, we need to start quick!" yunjin giggled all the way up the stairs with you trailing behind her. you only agreed for the surprise and not because of her, right?

you didn't even know why your heart was probably going a mile a minute, you were so confused. and it only happened when you were around yunjin; not when you were with anyone else.

she plopped herself on your bed and swayed her feet as she waited for you to change. you had a pinterest-perfect room, cute flower pots, paintings, crafts, it reflected you in a way.

she always wondered why you didn't participate in anything art or craft related, she knew you loved it, it was your passion and where you shined most without even having to try.

your skill and love for art will never not surpass your love for reading and being stuck in your books, as much as you tried to deny, saying i love reading most.

there was a certain sparkle in your eye as soon as anything related to art was brought up, she loved seeing that spark in your eyes, she loved your eyes. yunjin loved your smile, your laugh, your personality, your painting, she loved yo—

she stopped, a hand coming to where her heart rested, "do i? do i love this cute little.. this pretty and witty shorty?" she laughed and talked to herself, feelings were so complicated.

you knocked on the restroom door as you came out, face red in embarrassment, you'd never wore anything shorter than knee-level, yet this dress came till mid-thigh.

yunjin gasped, audibly gasped as she saw you. after the initial shock, she eyed you up and down, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth, shamelessly staring at you, making you even redder.

you really needed to wear more form-fitted and short clothes, but only infront of her, for her only, no one else. "you look absolutely breathtaking, sweets, i gotta give you that!"

yunjin stood up, walking closer to you, while you stood there uncertain on what to do. she tucked a strand of loose hair around your ear, "now time for step two, makeup!"

let's just say, your first party night was eventful, to say the least, the girls were overjoyed seeing you, multiple men tried to hit on you and yunjin somehow dragged you away from each of them by an excuse, you got very drunk, however, not drunk enough to spew dumb shit, fortunately.

you were drunk enough to end up not noticing how yunjin's eyes followed you everywhere, she wasn't stalking you, she just couldn't get her eyes off you. the way the dress clung to each of your curves in the most perfect way, the makeup enhanced your features, making you look even more snatched than before.

she was so down bad and she didn't even mind.

──────── ✧✦

"how about we study together?" yunjin rushed up to you, doe eyes shiny and enthusiastic, smile bright enough to make your heart rate accelerate more than you'd admit.

"i'm studying with chae—" you started, ready to politely decline yet another of her advances to get closer to you, when chaeyeon, who was beside you, intervened,

"actually, y/nie, i have a quick errand to run, you two should just go, i'll be back in a bit, bye girlie!" she ran in the other direction, leaving you confused, didn't she just ask you to study ten minutes ago?

"well..?" yunjin leaned on the locker next to her, staring intently at you with a little smile, she was mentally thanking chaeyeon for the umpteenth time as she waited for your response.

"fine, i guess, why not?" you thought out loud and she giggled, quickly taking your hand in hers and leading you to the library. she pulled a chair out for you to sit on of a table placed in the far corner of the library.

you sat down, muttering a thanks as she nodded and sat infront of you, she pulled out her pencil case, her binder, paper and a few stationery items while you did the same.

"so, to practice this essay, the topic we have to write for is our romantic interest," she began and you looked at her wide eyed, tilting your head.

"what type of a topic is that?" you asked perplexed, you weren't too into romance novels, movies and related, you didn't know who your interest was. "i don't have a romantic interest either." you explained further.

"oh, you gotta have someone in mind. a romantic interest is someone who you feel safe, loved, happy with; someone who makes your heart do things that don't seem possible, as if it's doing backflips or yoga or something."

she laughed and you pondered, a revalation coming into mind, "in short, they make you mad by how much they make you feel at the same time— confusion, anger, sadness, like, love, whatever it may be, it's different for everyone."

"and this topic is fun, i don't want to write about boring topics, we're here to practice writing and illustrating emotions through text, not philosophy." you nodded along, not paying much thought to the topic but to what she said about romance.

heart being wacky, frustration, hating and loving the same person, this is how you felt about yunjin, was it not? you were so shocked to even realize that she'd already began, "hey, what are you waiting for?"

you mouthed a nothing before you began writing, you voiced your thought about her, what you felt all these years due to your mom or due to your academic rivalry, in one way or another you were falling, or maybe you'd already fallen.

the close proximity, the party, the nickname, if anyone else had tried to do the same, it wouldn't have mattered as much as it did, it clicked in your mind.

yunjin was special to you, you never realized it but you always treated her differently too, just like she did. you let yourself be flirted to by her, you remembered how you'd roasted a bully so hard he left crying because he kept hitting on you even after you said no multiple times and you were done.

maybe the hate you thought you harbored was all love? maybe you loved her all along? maybe she was living in your heart rent free since forever?

after a while and a shocking life crisis later, you two were done writing and switched papers to grade each other's essays and what you saw only made your mind go haywire.

it wasn't far from a love letter, she'd stated everything she loved about you, which was two paragraphs and it was written this wasn't even all of the things she loved,

she'd written how she felt, how she hated seeing you be sad due to your grades and how she saw you pushing away your art for your studies.

she's always tried to encourage you to paint more, she's always made sure you'd eaten and drank water properly, she always made sure you were happy.

yunjin was so in love and she admitted it and after you read the whole thing and looked up, you saw her with the most shocked and happy face mixed ever.

you both were practically tomatoes, having read and understood that the feelings were mutual, though you weren't sure whether you liked or loved her, you certainly didn't think of her as just a friend.

you didn't feel how you did with her with chaeyeon or yena or wonyoung, she made you feel special. she made you feel loved, she made you feel so many things it was hard to wrap your head around the cyclone of emotions in you.

"i never thought i'd see you so red, sweets, that too because of me." she shakily said with the most lovesick grin on her face and you nodded, "same here, you're redded than a tomato."

"should we kiss?" she asked leaning closer to you, making you lean back more, "not here, we're in public!" you hushed her, looking around to make sure no one saw her say it.

she tilted her head, biting her bottom lip, admiring you, "what now?" you asked. "let's go to my dorm, it's a five minute walk from here." she stood up, haphazardly stuffing her things in her bag and making you rush to pack your bag as well.

you two rushed back giggling like you were both crazy. you'd have to say your first kiss and first date, which was watching movies and cuddling, was perfect.

it wasn't planned, it wasn't for show-off, it was for you. it was spontaneous, fun, nice, it was so effortlessly easy. for yunjin, it was effortlessly easy to love you; for you, it was effortlessly easy to be loved by yunjin.

love was effortlessly easy with yunjin.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚✧˖°.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ᯓ✦ 𝓊𝗻𝚒𝘷𝐞𝗋𝓢𝙚 !

𐙚 taglist! @woniefication

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bbystark · 9 months ago

Text

♡ simon is a bad stalker part 2 ♡

badstalker!simon x reader series - pt one three

♡ masterlist ♡ request more! ♡

summary: in which you meet your stalker, but not in the way you thought. mdni

a/n: the response on my last fic?? omg?? crazy. this is for @madzzz0797 and everyone else who requested! i love yall.

simon isn't someone to be stunned. the dude has seen some shit, not much has the capacity to knock the air out of his lungs.

except you, of course. "i want to meet you."

what in the actual fuck.

the words rattle around his skull, and he has to actually brace himself against the wall.

there is actually no way. he shouldn't be surprised, really. despite the fact that you didn't even know his name, he knew everything about you.

he knew the reason you started seeing a therapist wasn't because you were afraid of something happening to you, it was the fact that you didn't know what was going to happen.

above all else you really just hated not understanding what the "why's" in life. of course you weren't going to the police. only you would be primarily focused on figuring out why he was doing what he was doing, personal safety aside.

simon has no idea how to respond, so he simply hangs up. he's suddenly overwhelmed by the consequences of his own actions. he hadn't covered his tracks well because he somehow simply missed the severity what he was doing.

to him his motive was simple; he found you to be one of the only good things left in this world and it was only natural that he tries to protect you from the bad.

but then he realized that to you, some strange man was interfering with your life and literally sending personal drivers to your rescue seemingly out of nowhere.

again, simon thinks, he's completely fucked.

he weighs his options, like he has any. so far, you've taken the situation relatively well, and it seems like the only way he could do any type of damage control is to give you what you want.

on the other hand, he wants to run for the hills. to ghost you, essentially. but he knows he can't for the same reason he started this whole thing in the first place.

simon had an undeniable need to keep you safe and close.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

when the line goes dead, you audibly say "what the fuck!?" to no one. he's the one stalking you, and he hangs up? what a dick.

then, as you begin to sober, you realize how much of a fucked up situation you're in. you contemplate calling a friend, spilling your guts about everything. then you realize it's 3am, and you should probably go to bed.

the following week you kind of just... go on as usual. you still feel watched, but for some reason you don't feel it as intensely. you wonder if you spooked your own stalker, and the thought almost makes you giggle.

then you come home one day and you immediately know something is off. your cat doesn't greet you as quickly as usual, (something that started when simon started coming around, he knew how much you worried about the thing being lonely, so he took it upon himself to drop by and give it attention every once in a while).

then you see it, a box of pastry on your kitchen table. you drop your purse on the ground, approaching it like it was an explosive.

a pretty little bow is wrapped around it (simon had seen your pinterest, he doesn't understand the bow obsession, but he knows you would like it)

you open the box, a note taped on the lid. it was your favorite croissants from your favorite bakery, and you shiver a little when you realize the box is still warm.

you snatch the note from the lid, shooing your cat away from sniffing at the croissants.

"i'm sorry. we can meet soon, i promise."

you roll your eyes. you can't believe he's suddenly back with a note and pastries like he's an ex you broke it off with.

and then it sinks in, he said you would meet soon.

almost as if on cue, your home computer chimes.

you pick up your cat, clutching to her like she would be any help in the situation. you open your inbox and pale when you see a blocked email.

you open it, almost dropping your cat when you see that it's a zoom link.

your stalker just sent you a zoom link like you were about to have a business meeting. you click the link before you can change your mind, seeing the little pop up that informs you one person is in the meeting.

there was no way you were about to have a meet and greet over zoom with your fucking stalker.

you immediately close out of the tab and walk away, setting your cat down and laughing at the absurdity of the situation. you laugh like a psycho for a long time, your cat throwing you judgmental looks.

then you stop laughing, and you find yourself sitting in front of your computer with your cursor hovering over the 'join meeting' button.

you check one more time that your camera is turned off and will your shaking hand to click the stupid button.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

simon watches as you laugh, and it does nothing to help calm his nerves. he silently hopes that you choose not to join the stupid video call because he's not even sure he could get any words out if you did.

the zoom was soap's idea, saying it might take the edge off (and the risk of you calling the cops). simon thought it was stupid but reluctantly agreed at the prospect of being one step closer to you.

he's pulled from his thoughts when the annoying doorbell chime lets him know that you did it, you actually joined the meeting. with your camera off, of course, not that it mattered when simon had your whole place bugged anyway.

his heart stops, he sees you staring at the screen, taking in a scarily large man in a mask and hood. he doesn't know where to put his eyes, much less what to say.

you break the ice for him, "this is way fucking weirder than just meeting you in person."

he wants to laugh, but stays silent, watching as you instinctively lean farther and farther away from your screen.

he watches you for a second before responding. "thought it would be easier like this."

for you or for him, you have no idea. you don't ask about the mask, assuming he just didn't want you to be able to identify him.

"yeah okay. um," he watches your face screw up as you try to find the words.

you settle with a simple "what the fuck?"

you watch him as he shifts in his seat, room dark and giving you no hints as to who he was.

"name's ghost." you scoff.

"i-," he stops and collects his thoughts, "i don' wanna hurt you."

you raise an eyebrow. "then what do you want?" he stays silent.

his silence irritates you, and you spur on. "what's the endgame here, ghost? because it's starting to get real fucking weird, i mean if you're gonna murder me eventually just get it over with because these little acts of kindness are driving me fucking insane."

his callsign coming from your lips sends a thrill through him, and he has to really concentrate to respond.

"...didn't really think about it. just know i want to keep you safe."

you balk at him. you had no idea why you thought he would spill his whole manifesto and confess his every thought to you.

"you know what you're doing is wrong right? being in my apartment, following me around? despite the good things you do for me?"

his entire body warms when you acknowledge the small things he's done for you, he revels in the fact that you know he's taking care of you.

"'spose so." a beat "then why are you doing it?"

he doesn't have an answer for you. "listen, ghost. you're going to meet me in person and you're going to have a lot more answers or else-" you find your voice wavering. "or else i will go to the police."

you don't give him time to respond, you simply end the call and or good measure unplug your computer, like it will somehow distance you from what happened.

you go to your bedroom, sitting on your bed heavily. you were shaking, uncontrollable shivers wracking your body.

you had just dug your grave deeper, in your childish and immature quest to understand you had just given your stalker an open invitation to come to you.

you were so fucked.

#badstalker!simon #simon x reader #ghost x reader #stalker!simon #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #cod smut #cod x reader #x reader #fluff #stalker x reader

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karikarasuno · 2 months ago

Text

part four | part five | part six

flowers. law buys you flowers as a thank you for taking care of him. he doesn't even know if you like flowers, but he saw the bouquet at the grocery store and figured it wouldn't hurt.

unfortunately, now he feels awkward. he's never been one to overthink. analytical, yes, but never nervous that he's going to do or say the wrong thing. when it comes to you, though, he finds it hard to concentrate. he very oddly wants to impress you. he also really enjoys the way you feel comfortable relying on him.

so, of course, he hesitates knocking on your door with the bouquet held firmly in his strong grip. what if you don't like them? or worse, what if you're allergic? he shouldn't feel embarrassed by the thought, but he does.

whatever. he's got nothing else to lose, so he rings your doorbell. you're breathless when you answer like he interrupted something. and he could have given the fact that your clothes look thrown on, your tank top sitting slightly askew on your chest and he has to fight the heat crawling up his neck at the fact that you're not wearing a bra.

"hi!" you breathe out with a friendly smile, adjusting your shirt when you notice. "how are you feeling?"

"good," he clears his throat when his voice breaks, "better."

"i healed you," you nod with a sly smile, hand rising to lay flat over your heart. the sight makes him chuckle. you always make it so easy for him to relax. to just feel normal.

"guess you're the real doctor around here." he stretches the hand holding the flowers to you and he watches as your eyes light up and a slight blush tints your cheeks.

both of your hands rise to cover his and you lean over to sniff the side closest to you. "i'm glad someone's finally noticed how talented i am."

you wink at him over the bouquet and he fights a smile. "i'm assuming these are for me?"

you take the flowers from him, delicately touching the petals. he only nods, shuffling a bit in your doorway. timid.

"how'd you know these were my favorite?"

"lucky guess," he shrugs, but something twists in his chest. pride, maybe. or perhaps it's something deeper. something sappier. something he hasn't felt in quite a long time. "it's a small thanks for everything you did."

"well, if you really wanna show me your gratitude i think i have something else in mind." your eyes wander down his body shamelessly. he tries not to tense up at the implication. but excitement drops low and heavy in his gut.

"my tv recently stopped working and the new one just came in..." you take a step back, beckoning for him to follow you inside. his eyes follow yours to the living room where a wide box stands in the center. he knows exactly what you want and he can't help but laugh.

"now you're just using me," he says with a shake of his head, but he still closes the door behind him. he still walks over to the large box even though you're heading towards your kitchen with the flowers. there's already a mount on your wall from the last tv, so this isn't a tough task. just a quick replacement.

"hey, it's not my fault," you call out from the kitchen, but he can't see you. "i could ask one of the guys to do it, but they're not as reliable as you."

that makes him feel good. until he registers the word guys. "what guys?"

he bristles. he has no right to feel this way. to be jealous. he'd be delusional to think he's the only man in your life.

"well i used to get kid to do this stuff, but he's useless and i hate him," you laugh. he warms at your disdain for your ex. "usually i get zoro to do it, but he's forgetful. franky on the other hand is super good at this stuff, but he doesn't go anywhere without robin and that makes scheduling tricky since we're all so busy most of the time."

you come over carrying a vase, showing off the bouquet pleased before setting it in the center of your dining table. he watches as you keep spinning the vase until you like the way it looks, nodding in satisfaction when you're done fiddling with it. cute.

"but you, on the other hand," you twirl to face him, "you're always around exactly when i need you."

his entire body warms up. law likes being needed. and you in particular are always so needy.

"i'm always happy to help," he says, grabbing the scissors you're holding out to him and slicing the tape to open the box. you plop on the recliner beside him, just watching as he removes plastic and styrofoam. your gaze is attentive. there's clear tension sparking between the two of you, but he ignores it. because he has a task to complete.

"hold the box for me so i can pull this out." he grips each end of the tv firmly but with care. you slide off the recliner, kneeling in front of him as you reach for the box. the position you put yourself in does not go unnoticed by him. he's positive it's intentional on your end, especially when you look up at him, eyes big and brows furrowing just slightly.

"like this?" the question itself is riddled in innocence. but he knows you well enough now. he knows what game you're playing, but until now his role in it has been passive.

"yeah, just like that." he keeps his tone neutral, but encouraging. you bite back a smile, pursing your lips to one side as you glance away from him. his keeps his own smile to himself, pleased by your reaction, before rolling his shoulders back and lifting the television out the box.

he asks for your assistance one more time just to hook the tv onto the mount on the wall. it's bigger than your last one and takes up most of the wall across from your couch. it's really nice.

"here," you hand him the remote as soon as he sits on the sofa. mindlessly he starts to set it up for you, flipping through the pamphlet that came with it. he knows you're watching him. your body is curled up on the cushion beside him. neither of you say anything though. but he can tell what you're thinking. because he's thinking it too.

honestly it's all he can really think about. he’s touched himself countless times to the thought of you with your thighs around his head. with your hands in his hair. with your lips on his neck. he’s thought of you on his drives to work, in the shower, in the brief moments before sleep catches him. it’s annoying the amount of space you take up in his mind.

you shift beside him, knees grazing his thigh as you move closer to him. the smell of whatever you’re wearing on your skin reaches his nose. the memory of you in his bed, beneath him and moaning his name, is triggered by the scent.

“what’s your email?” he clears his throat, eyes trained on the screen before him.

“hm?”

“to set up your account i need your email,” his eyes betray him as they move to glance at you. it was a mistake. your head is tilted and your breaths are steady but they’re so deep your chest rises and falls heavily. his eyes betray him again when they glance down. your boobs are pressed together, your nipples are poking hard against the thin material of your top. it’s cold in here, he reasons.

you start spelling out your email address, but law’s distracted. he misses a letter, you laugh, he corrects it, but then he misses another one.

“let me do it,” you chuckle when you see he’s clearly struggling. but he instinctively pulls the remote out of your reach.

“i got it this time,” he says, pointing the remote at the tv again. he’s not looking at you for the sole purpose of concentration.

“i’m starting to think you can’t spell my name,” you reach over his body to try and take the remote from him again, but he swats your hand away. it’s a playful back and forth, but you become more insistent. his hand grasps your wrist to push you away, but your shin finds his thigh. you’re practically in his lap.

he tosses the remote to the other side of the couch, grabbing your thigh with his free hand and swinging your leg to rest on the other side of his hip. straddling him.

“is this what you wanted?” he teases, his hand resting on the top of your thigh as yours comes to his shoulder.

“i don’t know what you mean,” you feign innocence, but your eyes are locked onto his lips. law rubs his thumb gently on the inside of your wrist. and if he glances down, which he won’t, he would see how close your chest is to his lips. “i wanted the remote.”

“right, so then how did we end up here?” his eyes are trained on your face. the tension is so thick it’s almost tangible. like he could grab onto it and mold it in his hands. he watches as you swallow. your lips part to say something but for once you’re at a loss for words.

“you tell me,” you whisper, leaning forward so that your forehead comes to rest against his. you really are too much. he’s never felt as drawn to anyone as he does you. you’re inescapable. it’s almost annoying except for the fact that it seems as though you want him just as badly.

his hand slides up your thigh until his fingers are wrapped around your hip and his thumb is pressing into the crease where your hip and thigh meet. he hears your sigh stutter out from between your lips. your eyes are closed now and you relax into him. you seat yourself fully into his lap instead of hovering politely like you were a few seconds ago. your breath smells like coffee. another addiction he can’t seem to rid himself of.

you kiss him softly at first. kind of shy. as if you’re testing his resolve. your lips tenderly meet his like you’re trying to share a secret with him, but you can’t quite get it out.

“i think,” he releases your wrist and moves to cradle the side of your neck instead, pulling you in closer, “you should kiss me like you mean it.”

something snaps between you at his words. a string pulled so tightly the strands shred and fray as your lips slot harshly between his. suddenly you’re holding urgency in your hands. you tug at him. your fingers seem to be everywhere all at once. and if he wasn’t as desperate for you, he’d hardly be able to keep up.

your tongue slips between his lips and licks into his mouth. a moan crawls its way up his throat when you grind down on him. your hands are quick where they pop the button on his jeans, far more agile than he expects when they pull the zipper down.

“wait,” he says against your lips as you begin to reach beneath his underwear. he’s surprised by your whine of impatience. amused when you huff an annoyed “i can’t.”

“ok,” he relents with a chuckle, bracing his hands on your hips. “go ahead.”

you kiss him again, sloppier than the last as you finally wrap your fingers around him. “oh, law.” he can’t breathe. not well at least with the way you stroke him. there’s added pressure from the confined space. and his cock is drooling with precum as it smears against your palm.

his hand rises to hold the back of your head, tilting it to deepen the kiss. his fingers tangle in your hair and he groans when you circle his tip as best you can in the tight space.

“lemme taste you,” you mumble out between kisses.

“what?” his mind is mush, his thoughts are broken and nonsensical. it takes him a second too long to process your request. instead you’re slipping off of his lap and sliding down to kneel between his parted legs.

“what’re you doing?” it’s a stupid question. he doesn’t even know why he asked because your fingers are already hooking into his pants and underwear and slowly trying to tug them down.

“what i’ve been dying to do.” you look up at him, pupils lust-blown and gaze hopeful. he lifts his hips just a bit to help you free him. your eyes widen when you see him. hard and reddened and aching. his cock twitches in response. his breath is caught in his chest and his abs are tightened in a way that’s almost painful.

you take him in your hand. your touch is gentle, exploratory. you stroke him slowly but your grip is firm and he’s biting back a groan that threatens to erupt from his chest.

your lips are next. they follow the path of your hand, featherlight as you drag them from base to tip. he can’t tear his eyes away from you. your tongue sweeps across your bottom lip, inadvertently licking his head just barely. but that alone has his hips jumping in your hold.

you conceal a smile. one that he catches a glimpse of before those same lips part and you take him into your mouth. you sigh out a small moan. almost of relief as your eyes drift shut and you start working him with both your mouth and hand. you take your time. spit starts seeping out from the corners of your lips as you continue to take him deeper.

nothing he could have ever imagined comes close to this. your tongue presses against his shaft and you swallow around him. this time he can’t hold back the noise that escapes his mouth. it’s deep and guttural and he watches it wash over you with a distinct shudder.

it only serves to spur you on. you start working him faster. your head bobbing as your hand meets each motion fervently.

he sees your other hand slip between your thighs. he can’t see what you’re doing but the action makes his hips buck and you gag around him.

“hah, shit,” law moans, his face is burning and his skin is so hot yet there’s goosebumps littering his arms. “are you touching yourself?”

“kinda hard not to,” you say, a string of spit connecting you to his dick as you pull away. your eyes are glassy from the tears that line your lashes. when you lean back in your tongue meets him first, licking a stripe along the back of him until his tip is pressed against the flat of your tongue. you look up at him with big wet eyes and he’s starting to lose it. his control.

law’s hand finds its way into your hair again, his fingers curl against your scalp gently, testing your limits. when you don’t make an effort to tell him to stop he balls his hand into a loose fist. he applies just enough pressure to make you whine, and when he tugs on your hair your eyes roll back.

he can’t do it anymore. his resolve crumbles into ashes as you light him on fire. your lips suck his cock back into your mouth. warm and wet and so skilled. he’s nearly envious of any man who’s had you before him. he can’t even stand the thought, especially when your fingers, covered in your own slick come up from between your legs to massage his balls.

“fuck, that’s-,” his words are failing him. law can’t even think with your mouth on him. “fuck, you’re gonna-,”

he’s so close. both of his hands are now practically knotted into your hair, following hopelessly as you continue your onslaught of sucking and licking. you moan around him every time his breath catches in his throat, or whenever his cock twitches against your tongue, or whenever he pulls a little harder on your hair.

it’s positively ridiculous how easily you’re unraveling him. he’s been so pent up, so frustrated, for weeks. law doesn’t need anyone. he’s fine on his own. but he needs you. he craves you in a way that feels dangerously addictive.

your name tumbles off of his tongue clumsily. the syllables disjointed as his orgasm rips down his spine, his voice nothing but crunching gravel. your hand grips his thigh when he comes, your nails scraping against denim as he unloads into your mouth. he doesn’t mean to hold you there. really.

but he can’t help the state that he’s in. that you put him in. he’s nothing but base instinct. something close to a whimper plucks at his vocal chords as you swallow every last drop until there’s nothing left for him to give you.

his back meets the cushion of your sofa again when he finally comes down. when the rush finally dies off and all that’s left is syrupy endorphins shooting through his veins. his breaths leave his mouth in hurried, pathetic puffs.

his vision is blurry but he can still make you out. you look a mess with your lips swollen and wet. your lashes are clumped together with tears. your hair is a nest from where his fingers pulled and twisted.

“i don’t think you realize how sexy you are,” you say, your voice is hoarse and you’re wiping at your lips with your fingers.

law pulls you into his lap again, clutching at your biceps until you follow his wordless request.

“it’s not me,” he murmurs, kissing you once you’re seated. “it’s you.”

his kiss travels to your jaw, open-mouthed. “you make me like this and i couldn’t even tell you why.”

he peppers wet kisses down to your neck, burying his face there as you move to give him more access. you’re so pliant in his grip again, your body just melting into him as he mouthes at your collarbone. he could do this forever. just gripping you wherever he can, tasting wherever you allow him to.

“you’re one to talk,” your voice is barely above a whisper, just wistful interest, “i can’t stop thinking about you. it’s like you’re haunting me.”

he chuckles into your perfumed skin, your words resonating strongly. he does feel haunted by you. your laugh, your wittiness, your body. he’s so ready to take this further. to undress you. to pleasure you in every way he can.

but his phone rings. you groan in annoyance. so he ignores it, deciding it’s much more worth his time to slip the strap of your tank top off your shoulder with his teeth. he likes the way it makes you shiver.

he urges you closer to him with his hand on the small of your back, plastering you to him. his lips dip lower, kissing the top of your breast as you sigh.

“mmm,” you hum, your fingers curling in his t shirt when he bites the tender fat of your chest.

but just as he’s about to venture lower, like he so badly wants, his phone rings again.

“jesus,” he grits out, fishing his phone out of his back pocket.

“don’t answer it,” you complain, all soppy and pitiful and his dick hardens just a bit again.

“it’s the hospital,” he says, knowing he has to answer since they called twice.

“hello.” it’s shachi. one of law’s high risk patients is having some post surgery complications and he has to go in. he’s disappointed to say the least.

“i gotta go,” he says, forehead pressed to your sternum to avoid the look he knows you’re wearing.

“i thought you were off today,” you say, whiny again and he really doesn’t know why your petulance turns him on so much.

“i’m on call.” you pull back to make eye contact with him and you look kind of angry. he physically has to remove you from his lap to keep from kissing you again. so he tosses you onto the seat next to him as you continue to glare in his direction.

“i’m going to scream,” you say, and law laughs. “i’m being serious. if we get interrupted one more time i’m gonna purposely get hit by a car because maybe we’ll finally fuck if i’m in a hospital bed.”

“that’s not funny,” he stands, shaking his head as he tucks himself back into his pants. you attempt to kick at his leg, but he catches your ankle before it makes contact, his hand bunching up the fabric of your cartoon pajama pants.

“are these men’s pants?” his brow furrows because he just noticed them.

“yes,” you yank your ankle back to no avail since law’s grip is strong.

“your ex’s?”

“ew no,” you yank your leg again, “i got them from walmart because they looked comfy.”

he drops your leg and it lands heavily on your couch as he moves to zip up his jeans.

“oh my god, are you jealous?” the delight in your tone doesn’t go over his head, instead it grates over his ears shockingly loud.

“no,” he lies because he honestly doesn’t understand why he even feels this way. he’s getting far too attached to you too quickly.

“oh you so are and if i wasn’t so sexually frustrated i’d totally give you shit for it.” you’re propped up on your elbows, grinning from ear to ear at him. well, at least you’re just as crazy as he is.

“i’m leaving,” he tosses a throw pillow at you and it bounces off your head. your laugh muffled by it, all maniacal and endearing.

“have fun at work,” you taunt, wiggling your fingers goodbye at him as he makes it to your front door.

“have fun alone,” he teases back, knowing exactly what condition he’s leaving you in.

“i’ll try,” you pout, staring at him through your lashes. “but my vibrator doesn’t compare to your mouth.”

he rolls his eyes, but a smirk tugs at his lips anyway. “next time.”

“no, next time you’re fucking me or else i might actually die.”

part seven

#ok forgive me for making law a little possessive #I just feel like he’s a little toxic and territorial #and he matches my freak ok?!!#enjoy🫰🏽#shortnspicy🌶️#neighbor!law au #trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader

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dumbbitchgalore · 1 year ago

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💖 Cockwarming old man!Price 💖

TW: nsfw, mean!Price, kinda abusive??, possible alcohol abuse

Part 2

Last post I talked about blowjobs with old man!Price with a sprinkle of cockwarming. However this wil be dedicated to cockwarming with Price.

Now this can go one of two ways

Option 1: John is having an extremely shitty day trying to come to terms with his retirement

Option 2: John becomes self-conscious of his mind due to his erectile dysfunction and wholeheartedly believes that his lucky charm will leave him for someone virile.

Let’s go with option 1

He is absolutely gutted about his retirement and the only way he can express it is through anger

John doesn't cry, he never does

This wholre retirement just reinforces how obselete he's become to his squad that he built from nothing

And the beer only helps qualm his thoughts about everything he's done in his life

He goes through every major life event and thinks what he couldn've done differently

He lets his mind wander until it hands upon you

His darling baby

Fuck this is a hoax, some sick twisted game that you're playing on him

You wanna make him think that he's special and he's still needed in this world

He downs another bottle at the thought, gritting his teeth as the thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth worse than the cheap beer that he's drinking

He groans in irritation and does what he does best at his age

His calls you into the living room where he sits on the couch watching the football match holding a freshly opened bottle of beer

You walk up to him, kissing his cheek and caressing his upper arm slightly worried about the frown on his face

Before you can even get a word of comfort out of your mouth, he slaps you hard

You yelp in pain, holding your cheek

What on earth? Did your John just slap you

John looks away, annoyance etched onto his face as a twinkle of guilt in his eyes

You soften slightly

He didn't mean it, must be the alcohol

John turns to face you and opens his mouth to apologise but sees you slowly taking off your panties

John cocks his head to the side in confusion

He just hit you and you're taking your panties off?

You should be mad, furious

You should be leaving him, walking right out of the door

That's what you should be doing

Not taking off your damn panties

Stupid brat. He thinks to himself

"John..." You coo softly, "Are you stressed honey?"

John groans in anger and nods his head

You sigh softly

You won't hold what he did a minute ago, your love was stressed and that can't be good for his heart

You sink onto your knees and paw at his crotch lovingly, enamored by him

You nuzzle against his clothed cock, breathing in his musky scent

He just went out for a run and you could smell it on him

Fuck, was it driving you wild

He smelled so good, so manly, so... heavenly

It made you feel safe, cared for, protected

You sigh softly inhaling as much of his scent as you could

As much as you loved how John smelt after a workout or working in the gardens, you absolutely hated what it did to his body

You hated how his pudgy belly was becoming smaller

You frown, you loved his pudge!

You stand up and take the beer bottle out of his hand, bringing it to his lips

You make him finish the whole bottle in one go

You needed his cute beer belly back!

You smile softly when he finishes the whole bottle and you put in down on the coffee table while you sink back down on your knees

Whining against his crotch, you pull on the waistband of his sweatpants and out comes your prize

His oh so stupid cock just hanging there with no real use

Your eyes glimmer

"Baby, can we try something?" You ask softly

He simply nods, not really saying much. Not that you mind

You retireve a cock ring from the coffee table drawer and put it on him before straddling his waist and sinking down

You sigh softly. God, you loved the feeling of him

The cock ring didn't do much to get him hard but made it a bit easier for you to slide his dick in

But whatever, you like how pliant it felt inside you

You look at him lovingly but it only angers John

You shouldn't love him, he's old and unwanted

You see this thoughts running a mile a minute so you lean in to kiss him

John gets even more angry by your tender nature

So he grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs it so hard that you yelp as your face is pulled away from his

Your back arches slightly, a throaty gasp leaving your lips as your scalp begins to sting

"Sit there like the cock sleeve you are. No talking." He says sternly

And that's what tou did all night long while he watched his inane football match

A slight movement or a soft whine set John off causing him to spank you hard, or pull your hair or slap your right across the face

You like the good darling you are, you listened to him and did what he told you

You sat still, filling full while you were stuffed with his cock inside of you

Once John calms down, a wave of regret washes over him

He takes you to bed and does nothing besides worshipping your body, making you cum more times than you can count on your fingers with his tongue

His silent way of begging for your forgiveness

#captain john #john price #john price cod #john price smut #john price x reader #captain john price #captain price #cod smut #cod x reader #cod mw2 #tf141 smut #tf 141 x reader #tf141 x you #old man!price #ri's rants

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lllivia · 2 months ago

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This was never supposed to happen pt 2

Natalie Scatarccio x f!reader

summary: A couple of weeks after the incident something happens that makes Nat rethink everything..

warnings: long, homophobia, angst (fluff at the end), unprecedented Melissa hate by Nat, not proofread, A YEAR LATE

part one part two

You quickly sat up, body covered in a thin layer of sweat as you heaved for air trying to collect the memory of the dream you just had.

You hadn't had a nightmare this realistic in a while. So as you tried to concentrate your thoughts and convince yourself the dream wasn't real you couldn't help the tears dripping down onto your shaking hands, wondering why you even kissed her in the first place.

"I'm sorry Nat" you say as her door swings open aggressively.

"You shouldn't have come here." She replies coldly, no sign of any remorse on her face as she speaks.

"Well - I just wanted to apologize for crossing the line when it came to, you know.." You say, trying to seem like her words didn't feel like a punch in the gut as you look up at her shamefully. "This is all my fault"

"You're right, it is all your fault." She grimaces "if you hadn't had suggested "practicing" kissing in the first place, none of this would have happened and I'd still be your friend" She looks away from you and chuckles slightly, as if the whole situation is just a joke to her. "But instead I end up having a lesbo for a friend, who can't even seem to keep her hands for herself - and you know what.. even IF I was ever interested in girls, I would still never like you y/n, you disgust me. Now get the fuck out of my sight"

The next few weeks go by with no word from Nat, not that you wanted to speak to her anyways after how she treated you.

But still, you couldn't help but miss her at school as you saw her sitting and laughing with the rest of the yellowjackets soccer team when someone made a joke. Or when you saw her hanging out with Travis - her so called new "boytoy" while they smoked and clung onto each other where they thought no one else would notice.

But you did - you always did, and deep down you knew you were only paying this much attention to what she was doing because over time you had slowly started to think of her as more than just a friend, and that terrified you out of your fucking mind. - I mean, if Nat already acted the way she did after a single kiss, you could only imagine what would happen if you told her that you had a major crush on her.

So.. The best thing to do was to just lay low for a while, hoping she'd forget the whole incident.

"Hey y/n!!"

A giddy voice sounded out from behind you as you walked across the school grounds.

"Oh hi Melissa" you greeted kindly the yellowjackets girl from your spanish class came to a stop in front of you. "How are you?"

"I'm good" she grins back "I was just wondering if you wanted to go to the cinema with me after school, you mentioned that you were really excited for the new movie that just came out and and I actually happen to have 2 tickets for a viewing later! "

You hesitated for a second before replying, not having talked to Melissa that much outside of class before.

"Yeah, that sounds great!"

Well, maybe this would get Nat of your mind for a while.

"Great, I'll pick you up after school!" Melissa blushed before turning away, not even trying to hide the tiny squeal of excitement she let out when you accepted.

On the other side of the courtyard Nat couldn't help but glower in your direction as she watched the "way too friendly" interaction between you and Melissa.

She had absolutely no reason to feel the way she currently did, but still, she couldn't help but feel like someone had just slapped her before she hastily turned away. Before immediately going back to pretending once again to care for some stupid new movie Travis thought was going to "change the world".

School came to an end as the bell rang loudly from outside, causing an instant reaction out of everyone to rush out of the classrooms.

As you walked away from the school bathroom in the direction of Melissa's locker you couldn't help but feel like someone was staring at the back of your head, but still slightly nervous about hanging out with someone new you decided to brush it off.

As you approached the parking lot Melissa waved you over enthusiastically, leaning onto her moped as she grinned broadly.

"Hi again" you smiled.

"Hey, ready to go?" She responded, holding out a helmet for you to borrow. You carefully eyed the bike out for a second, never having been on one before "yeah, let's go" you finally say and take the helmet out of her hands.

"Why the fuck is Melissa looking so happy talking to y/n" Nat snarled as she stood next to Lottie, ignoring everything she just said as she grimaced over at the pair of you.

"What? Ohh I don't know - they're probably just talking about homework or something, I know they have Spanish together" Lottie responded and raised her eyebrow at Nat's aggressive tone. "Why do you care?"

"No reason" the shorter girl huffed and grabbed her bag from the bench next to her, quickly losing all interest in knowing any more about your new "friendship" as she sees you wrap your arms around the long haired blondes waist before taking off on her bike.

As she slammed the door to the rundown trailer a million thoughts scrambled through her head.

Why could she never just feel normal - she should never had yelled at you - why were you suddenly so interested in a new girl - wasn't she supposed to be your best and preferably only friend? - why did she tell you to leave??

And the list could go on forever.

After sitting on a large rock outside of the trailer park for a while she finally came to the decision that she had to do something.

She was tired of always letting her dad control her thoughts and her behavior, and she hated the pain that came with knowing you were out doing god knows what with some other girl.

She couldn't take it anymore.

With a new determination in her mind she started heading towards your house, not knowing what she was expecting to happen, only knowing that she couldn't hide how much she really wanted you anymore.

A rapid and harsh knock sounded through the empty house late that night startling you as you sat comfortably on your couch texting Melissa a "thanks" for the time you spent together on the nice "date" as she'd called it - to your slight displeasure.

"OH MY GOD I'M COMING, WAIT A SECOND" you shouted as the knocking just continued without a stop.

Angrily throwing the door open to see who was on the other side, the last person you were expecting to see was Nat standing there looking so vulnerable and uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry"

The door shut in her face immediately.

"y/n I'm sorry! Please open the door, I just want to talk" you heard Nat's mufffled voice beg through the door.

"I didn't mean what I said, I swear"

You cautiously opened the door once again.

"I'm sorry."

It looked like she had been crying - but that couldn't be right considering this was all her fault.

"Why did you do it" you asked with a shaky breath, already fighting off the coming tears about to leak out of your eyes.

"Why did you call me a dyke? I thought we were.. friends" you said in an almost whisperlike tone with slight hesitation at the end of the sentence.

"We were-we are!"

You scoff.

"Shit that came out wrong- I didn't mean anything of what I said, and I know I said some horribly fucked up shit that you probably won't forgive right away if you forgive me at all but I'd do absolutely anything you want that could help you understand that I truly am sorry" Nat pleaded with you, looking as if she'd start begging on her knees if you tried closing the front door in her face again.

You only watched her for a moment, considering the honesty of her words. "You really hurt me Nat.. Like a lot. And I don't know how we would ever go back to being how we were after I found out what you really think about me" You murmured.

"No - fuck! I like you y/n, like I would spend my every moment with you if I could.. And I should have said something a lot earlier, but I didn't know how, and especially after the incident when I royally fucked everything up." Nat confesses, looking like it was hurting her to say what she truly meant.

Your phone suddenly vibrates and you look down, completely unaware how inappropriate it was during the current situation.

"Don't pick up." The girl in front of you says, her voice suddenly stern as she looks at the caller ID. It's Melissa.

"Why not? You show up at my house late at night and then have the audacity to tell me what to do? "

"Yeah, pretty much"

The expression on your face was nothing less than a grimace of confusion as you gave in and turned your phone to silent. Debating if all of this was even worth it. "So.. What now"

Nat shrugged slightly in response and let out a huge sigh that smelled of cigarettes even where you were standing. "As I was getting to before we were interrupted... I really like you - and I think that's the reason why everything turned out how it did. When you kissed me - holy fuck I have never felt that way before. EVER. I was literally about to jump your bones right there." She went on without a taking a breath, before considering that she maybe should have left out the last part when she finally finished.

It took several moments of silence before everything that just got dumped on you finally sunk in.

"What the actual fuck Nat. why didn't you say anything before?" You tried your hardest to sound angry as you scolded her, but it was hard to now that your best friend finally confirmed that she felt the same way as you had for so long.

a/n: ummm so I forgot this in my drafts for over a year...

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