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jisungsdaydreamer · 1 year

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Love Playlist #1: HOME (Han)

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

"For a really smart person, Jisung can be so dumb sometimes."

Pairing: Han x Fem!reader Genre: college au, friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, fluff, mutual pining Warnings: mild swearing Word Count: 7k

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You have three strict rules that you must follow. One, no going out after eleven. Two, never leave the house without your cell phone. And three, never, ever, fall in love with Han Jisung.

Unfortunately, you’ve broken that third rule already. In fact, you’re still breaking it, charring it to a crisp, and throwing it out like the trash you both begrudgingly take turns with. But how can you not? Because when it comes to your doe-eyed best friend who is serenely sitting in front of you, the whole rulebook is torn up.

Jisung quietly flips through his growing stack of manga, blissfully unaware of the way your heart accelerates whenever he reads a particularly entertaining segment and his eyes light up in amusement.You should remind him to stay on track, but you can’t bear to stop him because of how cute he looks, his legs unconsciously swinging under the table and his fifth banana lollipop of the day shoved into his mouth.

You’re both sitting together in the library at your special table beside the big window, the place that is always secluded no matter what, as if some higher power knows to keep it aside for you and Jisung for whenever you desire. Both of you are supposed to be studying for your finals, the objectively worst part of the entire year. You’re both seniors, so the slew of exams coming up should be a piece of cake for you, except both of you have grad school next year— you’ll be starting on your PhD, while Jisung, a computer engineering major, will be working towards a master’s degree— so you still have to worry about all of your final grades.

“I hate this.” Jisung looks up from the book in his hands, closing it shut. “I wish I didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s almost over. Then we’ll finally graduate and get to enjoy our summer,” you reply. “And then our lives begin.”

And the elation building in your chest is real, because although you have a tough couple of days ahead of you, the end of this year will be a testament to everything you have accomplished. You have your summer mapped out already; you’re going to be completing groundbreaking cancer research at an esteemed biologist’s lab, days filled with productivity along with exciting nights exploring adulthood and freedom with your friends. Even though you’ll still have school, you’ll only have to be doing what you’re passionate about, leaving behind the mandatory literature and calculus courses that brought you so many tears over the duration of college.

“Not for me.” Jisung sighs, leaning back in his chair and staring aimlessly at the ceiling. “It’ll never end.”

Lately, Jisung has become increasingly stressed about graduation. He doesn’t come from a wealthy background, with his mother being a grocery store cashier and his father out of the picture. You’re aware he’s under immense pressure to do well in school and then get a good job that will take care of both him and his mother, when she’s unable to provide for herself. Worst of all, Jisung had to ditch his dream of becoming a musician and instead focus on something more practical, which ended up being a profession in computers. Of course, like anything else he puts his effort into, Jisung excels in computer engineering, and he’s come to terms with giving up his passion, but you know it doesn’t hurt any less.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask softly, reaching for his hand. He accepts it, but he turns his head to gaze at the street beyond the window.

“It’s okay.”

You don’t press any further, because you know that it will just break him down, and neither of you can afford that right now at such a crucial time. Instead, you resolve to brighten his mood, like he does with you anytime you’re down. “Let’s just hope we don’t get food poisoning tomorrow.”

Your attempt works, because Jisung meets your eyes, a smile permeating his solemn expression and before widening into a full grin, at the memory of the time you both first met. Remembrance comes like the summer breeze you look so forward to, washing over you both like a tidal wave. And just like that, it’s freshman year and you’re standing at the bus stop near your old dormitory building.

You anxiously devoured the notebook pages in your hands, alternating between cramming the tiny text and scanning the road for the bus that was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. Your stomach ached from the food poisoning you contracted earlier that morning, an unwelcome byproduct of the dubious cauliflower and tuna tacos served at the dining hall the night before.

This was horrible timing too, especially because you had your first test of the academic year that day. When you should have been bent over your statistics notes, you were cooped up in the bathroom for the previous few hours, clutching the toilet bowl as you watched the clock above you tick menacingly.

You bounced on your toes anxiously, before a strange, squeaking sound met your ears. You whirled around to see a boy approaching you while struggling to pull a large, bulging suitcase along with him. He finally succeeded, collapsing onto the bus stop bench while coughing and wheezing up a storm that rivaled the ominous clouds in the sky. You reached into the side pocket of your backpack, pulling out your unopened plastic water bottle and handing it over to him.

He looked at your offering hand in surprise, before gratefully accepting. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes while he gulped down the cool water. You watched him finish the entire bottle with a dizzying speed and then recycle it in the bin next to the bus stop. The boy was lanky, sporting an oversized Pokémon t-shirt and battered sneakers, and overdue for a haircut, the locks flopping over his sweaty forehead.

“Thank you so much.” He said.

“Of course. What’s in the suitcase?”

The boy fondly ran a hand over the worn-out seams of the object of your curiosity. “I promised my roommate that I would give him all of my old books for his class project. I have no idea why he wants them, but then again, art students are weird.”

He looked up at you not even a second later, alarm in his eyes. “Unless you’re an art student! In that case, I didn’t mean what I said.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “No, I’m a biology major. And yes, I agree.”

He beamed. “I’m Han Jisung. First year, computer engineering. Anime and cheesecake lover. Spicy food hater.”

“Y/N. I’m a freshman, too, and I also love anime and cheesecake. Chocolate cheesecake, to be specific. And I can’t stand spicy food.”

“Chocolate supremacy!” Jisung gasped, clamping a palm over his mouth. “This is meant to be.”

You let out a hearty laugh at his theatrics. “Exactly.”

At that moment, the bus finally arrived, rolling to a stop next to you both. You helped Jisung push his suitcase full of storybooks up the steps of the bus and into the aisle. You sat on one of the seats in the back, and Jisung followed suit, plopping down right next to you. As he did, you noticed him wince, clutching his stomach. Concern bloomed in you for this precious stranger that you just met.

“Are you okay?”

He clutches his stomach once more, smiling embarrassedly. “I got food poisoning. I should have known better than to trust the dining hall food.”

You pause, as the ironic delight of the situation sets in, allowing the pain to fade away and leaving you to wonder about the odds of meeting Jisung. “No way! Me too!”

Jisung’s eyes widen in surprise. “That’s destiny. Mutual food poisoning. Now we definitely have to be friends.”

Later, after you had exchanged numbers and plenty of laughs, parting ways at your respective bus stops, you would meet again at the university hospital. Both of you had contracted a salmonella infection.

Unbeknownst to you and Jisung, that delayed bus and salmonella would determine the trajectory of the rest of your lives. Over time, you both emerged from the shackles of a hesitant acquaintance to the kind of bond that never breaks, even with time, distance, or the grievances of being young. You witnessed each other grow up, fall in love and out of love, and get drunk on piña coladas at the bar next to the college gym you both pretended to go to regularly.

Somewhere along the way, after Loser Boyfriend Number Three, as Jisung tried to cheer you up with his horrible jokes and the burned brownies that he nuked in the residence hall kitchen microwave, you realized that you were wasting your time on people who weren’t worth it. Because the only person who was worth it was the one who had been by your side all the time. Jisung.

Betrayed by your treacherous heart, you began to see Jisung— your person, your study buddy, your fake fiancé when you both were trying to score free dessert with a restaurant proposal— as more than just a friend. In fear of your feelings potentially ruining your friendship, something more dear to you than any form of romance, as you so believed they would, you swore to never speak to Jisung of it. But you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore about the worst. You fell in love with your best friend.

“What did the farmer say after he lost his tractor?”

“I have no idea, Jisung.”

“‘Hey, where’s my tractor?’ Get it?” Jisung bursts out laughing, slapping his thigh. He doubles over, his whole body shaking with laughter at the unimpressed look on your face, which makes everything funnier for him.

“That doesn’t even make sense!” You exclaim, trying to push him. Jisung just keeps giggling, dodging you masterfully.

You both have given up on your library study session, resolving to take a break at your favorite coffee shop and meet up with the rest of your friends in your circle. The setting sun has streaked the blue sky with its golden rays and puffy pink clouds, enveloping the entire campus in a hazy glow. It’s a pleasant May evening, with the scent of your college’s famed peonies along with the excitement of Spring lingering in the air. The street lights that line the sidewalk are already turned on, but not many people are outside enjoying the weather, except for a few students playing a game of Frisbee on the athletic field. Everyone else is locked away in their rooms or the library, grinding for their upcoming exams.

“Well, I have a better one anyway.” Jisung states, clearing his throat dramatically.

You roll your eyes as you near your destination, an unassuming red-brick building tucked away in a larger complex of stores. Purple morningstar blossoms border the door of the small shop in clumps of dainty vines, no doubt the namesake of Morningstar Coffee House. Fairy lights are strung around the glass block windows, which offer a glimpse of the inviting warmth inside.

“Let’s hear it.”

Jisung jogs ahead of you and opens the door for you, gallantly gesturing for you to go first. “What did Y/N say to Jisung when they went to the coffee shop together?”

The comforting smell of pastries and dark roast coffee engulfs you as you step into Morningstar. The strung lanterns and groovy jazz music playing in the background welcome you like a hug from a long-distance friend. You can’t believe it’s been so long since you’ve gone anywhere other than the library, the lecture halls, or the tiny apartment you and Jisung share.

“I don’t know.” You humor Jisung, still playing along and waiting for his ridiculous punchline.

He smirks at you. “I love you a latte!”

You feign disgust, but secretly, you are elated because of how genuinely touching his words are to you. Jisung hugs you like a baby panda, trying to get you to applaud him for his clever joke, as Jisung is naturally a very physically affectionate person, always wanting to snuggle up to the people around him. But your heart can’t help but jump a little every time you feel his arms snug around you.

“Well, I love you a latte more, Hannie,” you respond nonchalantly, but you mean it. You do love Jisung for everything that he is, even the cringeworthy SoundCloud rapper phase that dominated his sophomore year.

“You guys are weird,” your friend Seungmin says from behind the counter, where he’s busy working as the barista, while his co-worker, Soobin, a timid Psychology student, clumsily handles orders at the cash register. Seungmin’s parents own Morningstar, and he plans to take over it next year.

Jisung sticks his tongue out at Seungmin in defiance, before linking arms with you and dragging you to the back, where the rest of your friends are seated. There is Chan, or more famously known as Chris among his many admirers across his campus, clad in his signature black jacket. Besides him, the turquoise-haired baby of your group, Jeongin, and then Hyunjin, who as usual, is lost in his sketchbook.

“Hey guys. What are you up to?” You slide in next to Hyunjin, trying to peek at what he’s drawing. You catch a glimpse of a very pretty girl you vaguely recognize from around campus, before he protectively snaps his journal closed, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Eyes on your coffee, Y/N,” Hyunjin says, handing you the mug that they ordered for you ahead of time. Magically, it’s still hot.

You accept the coffee and drink it, letting the rich liquid warm your insides as you swallow it gratefully. “Alright, alright.”

Jisung tries to steal a bite of Jeongin’s apple danish, earning him a swat on his wandering palms. Chan looks over at you with a grin. “We’re just listening to Jeongin rant about his crush.”

Jeongin groans before continuing. “And I keep asking her out, but every time, she rejects me, bro! What am I supposed to do? Give up?"

“Yes,” Hyunjin says in his signature straightforward manner, prompting everyone but Jeongin to snicker.

“Whatever. I'll figure out a way.” Jeongin sits back in his seat, resorting to aggressively typing on his keyboard to deal with his frustration.

You look around your little corner in the shop, which is filled with textbooks and miscellaneous notebook sheets. “Where are the others?”

“Minho is studying with his girlfriend, and Changbin and Felix are apparently also working, but they’re probably gaming instead.”

Hyunjin bites down on the edge of his straw, glancing between you and Jisung thoughtfully. “Speaking of girlfriend, when are you both going to get together?”

You freeze up in your seat, tensing like you always do whenever someone jokes about your relationship with Jisung, but he’s unfazed, shooting Hyunjin a mischievous smile. “When you tell us about that girl you’re obsessed with.”

Hyunjin immediately forgets about teasing you, glaring at Jisung contempfully. “Shut up, Han. You don’t know anything.”

“Guys, let’s calm down,” you say while patting Hyunjin’s back, happy for the distraction but still cautious about him and Jisung. While those two love each other very much now, they used to fight like crazy when they roomed together in freshman year, and no one needs a repeat of bad history right now.

Jisung catches your eye, and although he doesn’t smile at you, you can see the appreciation in his eyes. You nod slightly at him, before getting out your own computer. Words do not have to be exchanged between you two for you to understand each other.

You all settle into a comfortable silence as you finish your coffee and resume studying, only looking up occasionally to ask each other questions about the material or an assignment. Soon, the evening begins to fade away, and you start packing up your belongings before closing time.

“Hey, Y/N! Can you come over here for a second?” Seungmin calls out, capturing your attention.

You put down your backpack and walk over to the counter, where he’s washing his blender. “Yes?”

“So what’s going on with you and Jisung?” Before you can interrupt him and deny anything, Seungmin wipes his hands and gives you a meaningful look. “I know you have feelings for him.”

You feel your face heat up, and you avoid his piercing eyes. “How would you know?”

“Look, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. From the way you look at him, it’s a marvel how he hasn’t figured it out yet. For a really smart person, Jisung can be so dumb sometimes.”

You exhale, seeing no point in lying anymore. Besides, it feels good to get it off of your chest. “Well, why are you bringing this up anyway?”

Seungmin sets down his utensil caddy and rests his elbows on the edge of the sink. “Soobin likes you and asked me if you’re single. But, you know, I wasn’t sure if you are available. Emotionally, I mean.”

You glance over at Soobin, observing him counting all of the day’s revenue. The blonde cashier catches your eye, flashing you a shy smile before quickly looking away, turning a shade of tomato red. He’s handsome, good-hearted, and not to mention, very tall. Just your type. But he’s no Jisung.

“It’s been a while since I’ve dated anyone.” And this is true— over a year, to be precise. “I guess, I’m still hung up over Jisung.”

“Do you plan on making a move?”

“No way. I’m just going to wait for the feelings to dissipate. I would never risk our friendship like that,” you mumble.

“You could get to know Soobin, maybe he’ll help you move on,” Seungmin suggests, crossing his arms.

You consider your options before piping up. Jisung had gotten pretty serious with his last girlfriend by the end of your junior year, but he broke up with her a month later, telling you that she just wasn’t the one for him. He hasn’t dated anyone since, claiming that it’s not the right time. But for you, it is, and you realize that you can’t keep waiting for him.

“Maybe I will,” you say, toying with your jacket zipper.

Seungmin tips his head towards Soobin, but before you move, he leans in closer to you. “But personally, I think you should just tell Jisung. If he’s really your best friend, your friendship will stay the same no matter what.”

You nod. “Yeah, okay.”

You know Seungmin is right, but the truth is, it’s not just about losing your friendship with Jisung. Regardless of whether he reciprocates your feelings or not, you know that he would never walk away from you. It’s truly you who you are concerned about. You’re uncertain if you could bear to go back being your normal self around Jisung if you confess and get rejected. You don’t know if your heart could handle it.

You touch Seungmin’s hand in a quiet gratitude and approach Soobin, who immediately notices your presence and accidentally slams the cash register drawer closed, nearly shutting it on his finger. “H-hi Y/N.”

Watching Soobin get endearingly flustered, you can’t help but smile. “Hey Soobin. How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you.” Soobin bites down on his lip, wrapping his arms around himself. He looks so cute in his brown bib apron and converse shoes. “You look really pretty in that dress.”

Your cheeks warm, but you look him directly in his eyes. “That’s so kind of you to say. Actually, I was hoping you'd want to go out on a date sometime? Maybe after finals?”

Although you’re very reserved about your feelings for Jisung, in every other case, you can be quite forward with romance. Soobin’s eyes widen. “Wait, really?”

You laugh, getting out your phone. “Yes, really. What do you say?”

“Yes! I would love to. Could I please get your number?” Soobin stretches out his phone, which is covered in teddy bear stickers.

You think of Jisung’s phone, which has a clear case and a polaroid of you two at the beach inside. You shake the thought of him away. You type your number into Soobin’s phone, before wishing him good luck on his finals and then rejoining your friend group in the darkening outdoors, which has moved outside the shop while you were talking to Seungmin. As soon as he spies you walking out of the door, Hyunjin forgets his conversation with Jeongin and immediately launches into interrogating you.

“What were you talking to Soobin about?”

You shrug, trying to play it off, but can’t help the rosy blush that creeps up your neck. “Nothing, really.”

Now the others look interested as well, and Jeongin smirks knowingly at you. “You asked him out, didn’t you?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see Jisung’s smile falter, but you chalk it up to your own imagination and affirm Jeongin’s prediction. “Yes, but it’s pretty casual. So not a big deal.”

Chan and Jeongin both high-five you like seventh grade boys, while Hyunjin just cackles at your sudden agitation. Jisung, however, looks annoyed, a very new color on him.

“I didn’t know you were interested in Soobin,” he says, shutting Hyunjin up. “Why didn’t you tell me? You always tell me when you like someone.”

You know the answer to his question. But you can’t tell Jisung that the only reason why you asked Soobin on a date out of the blue is because you are in love with him and trying to move on. “Seungmin just told me that he had a crush on me. So I went for it.”

“Yeah, everyone knows Soobin likes you. But you could have told me first before making a move.” Jisung’s tone is slightly harsh, suspicious. You recoil in surprise, because he has never spoken to you like this, unlike the boy you know and love.

“Why are you getting so mad?” You ask him, hurt.

“It’s just that we tell each other everything, and this is pretty big.” Jisung crosses his arms stubbornly. “Unless you didn’t want me to know.”

Your skin prickles with a strange feeling, because while you two have bickered over stupid things in the past, it wasn’t anything serious like the look on Jisung’s face now. “What’s your problem, Jisung? What did I do to you?”

Your voice is raised, and boys instantly sense the tension in the air, stepping in to mediate. Chan, the eldest in the group, places a hand on Jisung’s shoulder, mutely imploring him to stay calm. Hyunjin, however, gets defensive on your behalf.

“Why should she have to tell you? Calm down,” Hyunjin says, frowning at Jisung.

“It’s okay, Hyunjin. We should get going.” Without waiting for an answer from the others, you grasp Jisung’s hand and pull him with you, while he comes along without saying anything at all.

The walk back to your apartment, which is seven minutes long from campus, is filled with an uneasy silence, a dreadful change from the playfulness earlier in the day. The air is charged, full of everything you both want to say to each other, but nevertheless, you keep your mouth closed. More than anything, you’re confused.

It’s been a long time since either of you were with anyone romantically, so maybe it is surprising to Jisung that you randomly asked Soobin out. However, you don’t understand his anger, especially because Jisung has always supported you in your dating life, even setting you up sometimes with people he knew. But you don’t think the problem is the fact that it is Soobin either, because Soobin is one of the most beloved people on campus due to his sweet personality. You don’t know what’s wrong, and that’s what bothers you the most.

Neither of you speak even when you reach your neighborhood, a suburban oasis in a big city. When there’s good weather, you and Jisung love to come outside and either take long walks around the block or pack picnics to share on the perpetually green lawn in front of your apartment building. Today, you head straight up to your flat, an indifferent pair of strangers standing in the elevator.

After unlocking the door to your apartment, you finally decide to break the silence, turning to look at Jisung, who trails a few feet behind you. “I’ll be in my room, studying.”

You want him to say something, anything, but he just nods, keeping his eyes trained on the grey hardwood flooring. Sighing, you pad across the apartment and enter your room, shutting the door you always keep open.

You and Jisung had signed a lease on your place last year, partially because you couldn’t afford off-campus housing on your own, but also because you couldn’t imagine a better roommate than him. People made plenty of comments about how you both— two people of the opposite gender— renting an apartment together would be a recipe for disaster.

While Jisung had assured you that everything would be alright, the weeks leading up to move-in day were filled with apprehension for you. But unlike what he believed, it wasn’t because of what others said. The thought of you and Jisung living together made you worry if proximity could potentially make it easier for him to realize your feelings for him.

However, when the big day rolled in, you couldn’t remember any of your fears as you and Jisung sat in your new apartment, leaned against a pile of half-opened luggage. Exhausted from dealing with delayed furniture shipments and sorting through the endless boxes of belongings, both of you had given up. Resolving to lay on the barren floor and play Go-Fish, you both laughed for hours about the annoyed look on the grumpy mover’s face when Jisung kept asking him questions. Before Jisung subsequently fell asleep on your lap, he promised you that you both would make a lot of good memories here. And you did.

Last Christmas, you both spent it together, huddled on the couch while gossiping and drinking hot chocolate, because both of your flights got canceled due to snow. Then there was the time Jisung forced you to stay awake with him all night because he was scared after watching some bad slasher film, but you told him Disney bedtime stories that eventually made his fear go away.

You can’t help but feel a small pang thinking of whenever he brings you strawberry shortcake from the bakery you like, or all of the times he spam calls you when you’re out late and haven’t informed him. You’ve never fought with Jisung like this, not without him immediately coming after you and begging you to forgive him, even if he wasn’t in the wrong. Being distant with Jisung is a new feeling, and you don’t get how you could ever accomplish that with your best friend in the whole world.

Shaking off your incessant thoughts about Jisung, you turn on your computer, hunching over on your desk in the artificial glow of the screen. You still have a few chapters of reading to get through, and then you have to solve ten long practice problem sets for Chemistry. For now, you’ll have to put off the deliberations that pull at you.

“Y/N.”

You feel someone shaking you awake, gentle hands coaxing you out of an uneasy nap. You lift your head from where it rests on your arms, blearily looking up from where you are slumped over your desk. Your laptop has fallen asleep, the dim glow of your lamp lighting up the room instead. And the blaring, unwelcome red of your digital clock signals an unfortunate time well past twelve. Rubbing your eyes, you finally notice Jisung hovering beside you hesitantly.

“I thought you’d want me to wake you up,” Jisung says, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pajama pants. “I’m sorry.”

He’s wearing a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up snugly over his head, a few soft pieces of hair messily sticking out from underneath. He looks so cute you want to hug him, but then you remember the events that transpired before you accidentally fell asleep.

“It’s okay. I need to finish working, thanks,” you say dully, both tired from studying and being stuck in this bad day with Jisung.

He shakes his head. “No, I mean, I’m sorry for earlier. At the coffee shop.”

You bite your lip, melting at the regret and sadness in his eyes. Your best friend misses you too. “Can we talk?”

Jisung stays quiet before speaking, and you swear he can probably hear your anticipating heartbeat filling the room. “Are you hungry? We didn’t have dinner.”

He doesn’t answer your question, but you still fold at the thought of how he didn’t eat without you. “Yeah, I am hungry.”

“I’ll make us something.” He turns and heads into the kitchen, and after a second thought, you hurry after him.

Jisung takes off his hood and brings out a metal pot out of one of the cupboards. You watch as he rummages hastily through the fridge, before he shuts it with empty hands. He turns to you with a sheepish look on his face. “So we don’t actually have any food.”

Realization passes between the both of you: in the past few weeks, you both were so immersed in your preparation for your exams that you had completely neglected buying groceries, opting instead for easy pre-cooked meals or food deliveries. Your stomach rumbles loudly, and you rub it, embarrassed, but at least it breaks the tension, as Jisung snorts, an amused look on his face.

“We could go to the store and get something,” he suggests, from where he stands behind the kitchen island.

He fidgets nervously, a reminder of how any other time, you would have jumped at the opportunity to ditch your books and buy cheap junk food with Jisung. But now? You don’t want to go out. You want to stay here, you want to talk to your best friend, you want things to go back to how they were before your fight with Jisung. And yet, you nod your head in agreement, grabbing your apartment keys and wallet from the counter before following Jisung out of the apartment.

The hallways of the building are tainted a vivid yellow from the incandescent lighting, a sharp contrast to the gloomy night outside. The moon is high up in the sky, shrouding the sleepy apartment complex in a silvery glow. There’s no one outside except for a homeless man dozing on one of the benches lining the walkways. But the distant city lights tell you that not everyone slumbers, that outside of your bubble, people have their own lives and stories. The only story that matters to you, however, is the one with the beautiful boy who walks beside you, his step heavy and eyes downcast.

In a matter of wordless minutes, you and Jisung have arrived at your go-to place for midnight runs, a sketchy little convenience store peeking out from behind a cluster of drab office buildings. The neon lighting of the store glows in the dark and reflects in the pools of water left by a mild rain that had graced the land while you were sleeping.

Jisung quickly walks ahead of you and opens the door for you, a blast of air conditioning granting you solace from the humidity. The familiar sight of the plentiful arrays of colorful aisles and the broken fan hopelessly creaking by the entrance pulls you in. You scour the shelves of mouthwatering foodstuffs, before settling in front of one of the sections.

“I don’t know if it’s a noodles or sandwich kind of night,” you wonder out loud, picking up a pack of ramen. You don’t notice Jisung standing behind you, as you assume he’s already zeroed in on the ice cream freezer like he always does.

“Definitely ramen.”

You jump, hugging the packet to your chest as if it would protect you from the perpetrator. Jisung innocently watches you, a small smile playing upon his lips. He holds two wrapped popsicles in his hands, one melon-flavored and one mango-flavored, and stretches the latter out to you. You accept it, returning his smile, and it feels like things are normal again. You know you should bring up what lies unspoken between you two, but you want to preserve this moment for now.

Jisung selects ramen for himself as well, and you both go to the front counter to check-out, failing to exchange any more words as you both just continue to enjoy the calm. After, you both quickly exit the shop and start jogging in synchronization, remembering that a pile of work still awaits you. When you board the bridge that connects the rest of the city to the way back to your apartment, Jisung doubles over, panting.

You decide to take a break, walking over to the edge and drinking in the view. The blurred lights of the magnificent skyscrapers illuminate the midnight sky like lightning, and the river in front of you is littered with cargo ships peacefully gliding along on their separate journeys. You lean against the railing, closing your eyes and letting the wind ruffle your hair. Jisung comes up behind you once more, but when he speaks this time, it’s less of a surprise and more of a comfort.

“Everything is changing,” he says, resting his hands on the railing as well. “I’m scared.”

You open your eyes, turning to face Jisung. His eyes are filled with tears, and your heart reaches out for him. You tightly grasp his hand, trying to convey everything you can’t say to him.

“Talk to me. Please.”

“I’m not ready for all of this. Graduation’s getting closer, and I know you’re excited but… I don’t know, I still feel kind of stuck.” Jisung’s gaze fixates on one of the boats below. “Every time I type out a line of code, I want to smash my keyboard into bits. Every goddamn time.”

His words are strong, but his voice is rough with emotion.

“Jisung, don’t do this if it’s not what you want.”

“We’re literally graduating in a month, Y/N.” Jisung lets out a disbelieving sound. “But that’s not even a concern, because my grad school actually offers a joint program on computers and audio design for engineering students who want to go into music production. But I couldn’t do that, because you barely get paid unless you make it big.”

You frown, setting down the plastic cover of your food. “Well, why not? If anyone could break out, it’s you.”

Jisung shrugs, shaking his head. “I can’t take that risk. Just plain old computer science is the way to go.”

You stay quiet for a second, keenly observing his despairing expression. “Your mom would want you to be happy, Hannie.”

“I could be happy, maybe, one day. But not right now.” Jisung runs a hand through his hair, not meeting your eyes. “You’re moving away next year for your PhD, and I’ll still be stuck here, in a place where you aren’t there.”

“I’m only two hours away. You can get away from campus and visit all the time. We’ll be like the Kardashians taking on a new city!” You crack a watery smile.

Jisung sniffles sadly, and your heart sinks, because you failed to make him happy. Again. But then he looks up at you, a glimmer of humor in his eyes. “Only if I get to be Kourtney.”

You laugh, shoving him in the arm. “Fine.”

And then you both say nothing again, just gazing out at the world beyond this bridge and instant.

“What happened today?” You break the silence— questioning, not accusing.

Jisung groans. “It’s… look, I know we’ve both dated before, but none of them were it. And maybe you never felt that way, but I know for a fact that none of the guys you dated were right for you.”

“Jisung—” you start, but he interrupts you.

“And we’re graduating soon. So I thought you’d realize it by now.” Jisung taps his foot like he always does when he’s nervous, and your pulse quickens at his halting words.

“Realize what?” You ask him softly, trying not to come to any conclusions but betrayed by the treacherous beat of your heart.

The tips of Jisung’s ears turn red. “I- I need you to not say anything. Because I need to say something. And if you don’t like what I say, then I’ll walk away and we can forget everything that transpired here. Okay?”

You maintain your serious expression, although you want to swoon at his adorably flustered state. “Okay.”

Jisung is about to finally reveal what has gotten him so worked up, but then he sighs in frustration, shaking his head. “No. I can’t do this with you looking at me. Can you please turn around? Please?”

Hiding a smile, you oblige him and face the other way. “Okay. I can’t see you now.”

You hear Jisung take a deep breath.

“I’m never going to get this right. Y/N, I like you. And I mean like-like you. Like, romantically. Everything about you, I like. Even your disgusting food combinations, I like. Your smile? Oh god. Don’t go on a date with Soobin. Go with me. I like you.”

Even though the past few minutes manifested Jisung’s declaration, you still whirl around, shocked. “Say what?”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Seriously? I pour myself out to you and you need me to repeat it? You’re really something, Y/N.”

You smirk, stepping closer and looping your arms around Jisung’s neck. You take in how Jisung’s eyes have widened and how his lips are parted at such an intimate gesture from you, wondering if this is how it feels in the movies, when the heroine finally gets the boy she’s been loving from a distance for so long.

You look up at Jisung, and your heart has never felt so happy. “I guess this is my time to be vulnerable too. I don’t just like-like you, Jisung. I love you.”

It’s Jisung’s turn to be surprised. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah. For a very long time.”

He smiles bashfully, his elation at your own confession evident. “I love you too.”

Jisung tilts his head to his right, as you do the same, almost about to close the miniscule space between you both. And then he pulls away.

You watch Jisung, confused, as he covers his face with his palms, shyly giggling. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I dreamed of this for so long. Can you give me a second?”

Never able to get enough of his antics, you watch as he pulls a stick of chapstick out of his pocket and swipes it on. He dabs his lips carefully before turning back to you.

“Now where were we?”

Before you can even say anything, he’s closed that gap. His lips are soft and sweet, the taste of cherry and vanilla chapstick lingering. You close your eyes and melt into the kiss as Jisung brings up his hands to cradle your face. The sweet scent of him clouds your senses and washes away your inhibitions, and there’s nothing besides you both in this moment. He kisses you like there’s no tomorrow, no exams, no school or anyone else. He kisses you not like a friend, but a lover that he’s yearned for, which certainly wouldn’t be a lie.

You can’t believe that you’ve been pining after Jisung for the mere duration of your college years. It feels like you’ve waited your whole life for this. The murky puddles of water around you and the pungent stench of a nearby dumpster are nowhere near romantic, but with the way you’re kissing Jisung, you might as well be in heaven.

If you dare to predict the future, you’ll have the rest of your life to look forward to moments like this, miss him even when he’s laying in your arms, love him when you both slow dance in the refrigerator light at midnight. And because you’re two broke peas in a pod, you both will definitely conduct more fake proposals with each other when you go out to eat. Hopefully before the real deal. You’ll just have to see who pops the question first.

“Wow,” Jisung breathes against your lips. “My dreams have not done this moment any justice.”

You chuckle, leaning in for another kiss. “Mine too.”

But Jisung dodges your lips, making you scoff as he raises his eyebrows at you. “And what are you going to be doing about Soobin?”

“You should be nicer. Poor Soobin. I wouldn’t have to let him down now if you’d just told me all of this earlier,” you scold Jisung lightly, cupping his chin.

He pouts, swatting at your arms with the oversize sleeves of his hoodie. “Never mind. Let’s stop talking about him.”

You roll your eyes playfully and wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. You’re sure that the lovesick look on Jisung’s face mirrors your own. He may not be perfect, but he’s perfect for you. Your best friend in the whole world. And whatever the future holds, that will never change.

“I love you, Hannie. Love you so much,” you whisper, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. You’ll never, ever get tired of kissing him.

Jisung smiles down at you lovingly, slipping off his hoodie to put it on you, noticing the way you shiver. But you’re not really that cold; it's the way he’s looking at you right now. Not that you’d tell him that. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” You ask, still in a dreamy daze. This day has turned out to be better than any other you’ve ever had. Everything was worth it.

“Home.”

Check out the rest of boys' stories on Love Playlist!

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beetlebrownleaf · 1 year

Text

big vent. things I’m in a better place to talk about now that I’ve seen a therapist for a little while. mentions of BPD and emotional manipulation under cut.

I decided to say “fuck it” and come back to Twitter because I want to talk to my fucking friends there before it possibly implodes, and I’m scared because I feel like I’m constantly under a microscope everywhere ever since an ex friend pressured me to stay off of social media cold turkey (not possible for me anyways. nothing cold turkey works for me) because they considered me “mentally unsound” and basically tried to armchair diagnose me because I was being interpersonally shitty to them.

And then they kicked me out of their space when I didn’t comply to said socmed break that they imposed upon me “for my own good”. Yes I was being an asshole, genuinely, but it felt so controlling and weird. As I look back I think they’re just a controlling person. Was I an asshole? Yes. Were they still weirdly controlling in a gross, patronizing way? Also yes. Both can be true.

My first red flag should have been when they asked me how I get my kids to eat more vegetables. I assumed they were babysitting. No. They just invasively thought their roommate wasn’t eating healthy enough I told them that was ultimately not their problem nor their business.

I was an asshole for getting up their ass about a comment they made that I simply disagreed with, I should have just left it alone because it wasn’t worth it. Yes. I was an asshole for that.

But if you hear rumors I’m a secret closeted bigot and I supposedly think those seeking education and employment is “mindless drone behavior”, hi that was me in my private vent twitter, aka my “this is where my bad brain thoughts that do not necessarily represent my beliefs and feelings”, saying, in a moment of deep mental upset, that I felt like being queer, becoming socially aware, choosing my own lifestyle, and making other queer friends, brought me pain and sometimes I wish I’d have married that lawyer I didn’t love and gone to a school I didn’t want to go to and gotten that job I didn’t want to have to please my parents because it would have “easier”.

Having times where you wish you were not queer and blissfully socially unaware is an incredibly common Bad Brain Thought for queer people. I am not a fucking bigot for that*. I don’t fucking think education and employment are “mindless drone behavior”. I was wishing, in a moment of mental upset, that I was a mindless drone, aka, someone who just did what their parents told them to do with their lives. When I explained this I was met with a resounding “I don’t believe you, it’s clear you’re still a deeply bigoted religious person and not the liberated woman you claimed to be” as if it’s my fault I failed to live up to expectations I absolutely never gave any impression of. I did escape a more “worldly” form of Evangelicalism. I did not stop being religious. Being queer and being religious are not mutually exclusive.

Anyone who has known me since my fucking beginning here on FFXIV, on Tumblr, even on Twitter, knows that’s bullshit, and from here on out I’m deciding that anyone who believes that is willfully choosing to believe that to make me more of an asshole than I actually am and I want nothing to do with them.

Basically when I was mad at a comment I perceived as rude (which was, by the way, a comment telling me me and my family’s hypothetical desire for land to farm and garden on - possibly elsewhere in the South, where I inescapably live unless I move several states away, which is financially unfeasible and separates us from family) - was selfish, unnecessary, and placing my children in direct social and physical harm, so, actually I still think it was fucking rude), I was mentally unsound for being mad at that. And maybe so, I really was an asshole for getting all twisted about it and coming after people for it and I should not have done that, and I know the anger and discomfort I had about it did make me too mentally unsound to speak with them at the time. Fine. I’ll take that L.

But when I make a tweet on my bad brain account that yeah, isn’t worded excellently because it’s where I go to privately vent when I’m upset, aka Mentally Unsound, it’s suddenly an indication of my deep-seated true Closeted Bigot Feelings? Yeah. Okay. Just say I’m an asshole and go tell me to fuck myself like a decent person.

My therapist is pretty sure it is possible that I have BPD after I mentioned it to them. I am financially unable to see her now (my husband’s job changed insurance and we’re not covered anymore, and I can’t afford $100 a week or even every two weeks, so yay), so I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m glad to know I at least have a path moving forward.

She thinks this is why I kept folding to this friend and going “okay okay I’ll do what you say, you’re right, I was so wrong and thank you so much for your input, otherwise I wouldn’t have seen that I was making a bad decision”. And I am sickened that I did fold because they said “well I’m glad I was able to save your children, at least, I would go through this again and again to save your precious children” fuck off. I can’t believe I let them say that to me.

I can’t do that anymore. I can’t just fold to people because I’m afraid of rejection. I can’t allow myself to be manipulated like that anymore or anyone could harm and take advantage of me, and that really could impact my children’s lives negatively.

I am not going to bend to manipulation anymore, and I am going to allow “I was a shitty person to someone” (because I was! even my therapist said it was a harmful and unhealthy thing to do on my part) and “but this someone was also shitty to me and I am allowed to be hurt by it, and they are wrong about who I am” to coexist.

I’m still scared to exist online because I feel like I’m under a microscope and anything will be used against me, and rightfully so. But I’m not going to disappear to appease anyone. I am not going to adhere to some forced promise that I’ll stay off socmed and stop having fun with my friends.

*addendum: I am not a bigot but I am white and squarely middle class and I understand that may mean I still have things to unlearn as far as racism and classism, and many other forms of bigotry, I would imagine. I am not perfect. But I am not a bigot.

#vent

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hollyoongs · 2 months

Note

can you do mutual masturbation with jungwon?

He just gotta give me that look, when he give me that look Then the panties comin' off, off (nicki minaj - super bass)

ᨓ 。idol yang jungwon x fem reader ꒰📲꒱﹕suggestive ﹕+1.0k contains: mutual masturbation, risky scenario ┈─★

[十二] Being friends with benefits with Jungwon was something you never expected, but when you both drunkly opened up about how your sex life was, you came to the realization that you two were what you needed to satisfy each other's needs.

You used to come over to his place, mostly because he lives alone and you two can't be bothered, his bed being the main place in making out with each other. One thing about Jungwon is that his kisses were slow; he liked to build up the moment with soft pecks until he gradually increased the passion for it, maintaining that slow and painful pace that made you lose your mind.

You were fully laid on the bed, legs wide open for him to be comfortable as he kissed you, his teeth biting your lower lip, gaining a moan from you as you shook your head to kiss him again, him going backwards, teasing you as he heard your soft sighs as his right index drew a line on top of your pants, making your regret into wearing a skirt.

"Do you need something, baby?" His lips lingered on top of yours as he spoke, his husky voice sending electricity to your core.

"I need you," you moaned. His lips finally united with yours, his hunger getting noticiable, his hands went to your hips, and his lips traveled to your neck, straight to that specific place that simply makes your eyes shut in delight. The moment was ruined when Jungwon's phone announced that somebody was calling him. "Jungwon, your phone..."

He growled as he looked at the screen, eyes growing big at the name of the contact. He grabbed his phone and, sadly, separated his body from you.

"It's mom." Before you could say something, he accepted the call. "Oh, hey mom."

You sat down the same way he was with your back against the bedhead; the conversation seemed to be long. You saw Jungwon lips were being bitten, your vision going lower to his sweatpants, his clothed dick standing tall. You smiled; it filled your ego to see how horny he gets with simply making out with you, you having the same reaction to his kisses, feeling intoxicated by them.

Your fingerstips went to his covered dick, making him slightly jump and gasp a little.

"Oh, nothing, mom. I thought there was an insect in my room. But continue." He gave you a look—that specific look that used to give when he gave orders to his members—to stay still. But you couldn't, not with his friend screaming to be free.

You entered your hand inside his sweatpants; he had to bite his lower lip as you traveled all his length, realizing he wasn't wearing underwear.

A mischievous smirk formed on your lips as you wrapped your fingers around his length, feeling the heat of his arousal. Jungwon's eyes met yours, silently begging you to stop while his body betrayed him, leaning into your touch. His mother continued talking, blissfully unaware of the situation unfolding on the other end of the line.

Jungwon's breath hitched as you began to stroke him slowly, mirroring the pace he had set earlier with his kisses. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, his free hand gripping the bedsheet tightly. You relished in the power you held over him, each twitch and gasp a testament to his struggle to maintain composure.

"Y-yeah, Mom, I'm listening," he stammered, his voice strained. He tried to keep the conversation going, but his focus was slipping with every passing second. You leaned in, placing soft kisses along his jawline, your breath hot against his skin. Jungwon shivered, the sensation almost too much to bear.

You took off your underwear, opening your legs so he could see how wet you were. He grabbed one of your legs and pushed you closer to him, your cunt touching right to his tight. His middle and index fingers were together as they collected your arousal, putting one of them inside you so that you could get used to it. You bite your lip in order for his mother to not suspect anything.

He started his movements, your hips bucking with each thrust as your hand kept on pleasing him.

He shifted slightly, attempting to move out of your reach, but you were relentless. You tightened your grip slightly, increasing the intensity of your strokes. Jungwon's hips involuntarily bucked forward, seeking more friction, more pleasure. He shot you a desperate glance, silently pleading for mercy, but just like him, you were a mess.

Every time, his fingers could go so deep to the point of touching your sweet spot so good, and it was game over when he found out the perfect way to make you squirt and your legs shake.

"Mom, can I call you back later? Something…came up," he finally managed to say, his voice breathless. His mother, sensing his urgency, quickly agreed and ended the call. The moment the line disconnected, Jungwon let out a long, shuddering breath, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and desire.

"You're such a tease," he growled, tossing his phone aside. You grinned, feeling a rush of satisfaction at having driven him to the edge. Before you could respond, Jungwon's lips crashed against yours with renewed fervor, his left hand gripping your waist possessively as his fingers started a faster pace than before, finally letting out all the whimpers and moans you were holding.

"Come on, baby. Should we cum together?" He murmured against your lips, his voice low and dangerous. He pushed you back onto the bed, his body pressing against yours. His kisses were no longer slow and teasing; they were urgent and demanding, fueled by the pent-up desire from your earlier teasing.

You moaned into his mouth, your hands tangling in his dick as you pulled him closer. Jungwon's hand roamed your body, and you could feel your orgams getting closer, finally reaching your peak as he slapped your cunt and pinched your clitoral area, not stopping until his lower body was wet with your squirt. His orgasm crashed him later, and all his escense dropped in your belly, legs, and breast, giving him a nice view of your fucked-out face.

"You're going to pay for that," he whispered, his voice dripping with promise. You shivered in response, your body aching for his touch. Jungwon's eyes darkened with lust as he looked down at you, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

"And I'm going to enjoy every second of it."

↷ 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚢'𝚜 note: i'm so used to dedicate any won blogs I do to @fatalwon not me gatekeeping this for so DAMN long, end of requests <3 🦋

#𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗹𝑦𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠! ৎ ˚⋅#ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑦'𝑠 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ #𝗁𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗒'𝗌 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛 𝜗𝜚 #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enha x reader #enha smut #enha hard hours #enha hard thoughts #yang jungwon #jungwon x reader #jungwon smut #jungwon hard hours #jungwon hard thoughts

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mrskittythulhu · 3 years

Text

Blue flames and red feathers (1)

part1 part2 part4

Watpad

(18+) Dabi x Hawks x (y/n) fem

Tight grip up and down the length of this shaft. Swirling a tight palm over his tip as he spit on to his length for added lubrication. He tried to moan quietly to himself so that he could continue to hear your pleasure. Jealousy filled his eyes as he watched another video of you.

This time you were facing the headboard as you sat on top of Hawks’ face. Red feathers pinned your arms to the wall so that your hands were stretched above your head. Hawks kept one hand tightly gripped on your him pinning you do so he could feast on your moist cavern. His free hand was stroking his shaft seeking his own pleasure.

You were blissfully unaware that your new hero boyfriend was not only filming your sexual encounters, but he was teasingly sending them to a mutual acquaintance. Hawks used his stealthy feathers to position and control his phone while you were distracted. A month of pictures and videos were secretly sent to a very hot-headed villain.

As Dabi watched you both reach your sexual peak. Hawks shot strings of cum on to his stomach as you rested your head on the wall while panting heavily. With a few long hard strokes and cursing as he bit his bottom lip Dabi found his needed release. Basking for a moment in the afterglow clarity he turned off his phone. After cleaning himself off he found another smug text message from Hawks asking who he was enjoying watching more. The temptation to set his phone ablaze was barely held back. He wasn’t sure why he was letting Hawks’ get away with dangling you in front of his nose for so long, but he had finally had enough. For the next hour while you slept surrounded by your boyfriends gentle feathered caress the two of them texted forming a plan between them.

…

After the public incident with your ex-boyfriend in the park you felt motivated by your new romance to move and start a new job. Hawks set you up with a new apartment in what he deemed a safe neighborhood. Not only did he move all your things, but he took the chance to move most of his items in as well. He mentioned he was going to keep his place because of work and wouldn’t want fangirls finding his new address. The idea of his fans harassing you was something you wanted to avoid as long as possible.

The new job you found was like a dream. Being two cities away from where you live no one had heard of your D-list ex. The fresh start was more than welcoming. It was a simple office job with tall cubicles that separated workspaces. You enjoyed making small talk during lunch breaks with the friendly chatty coworkers. You were surprised after only being there for little over a month when one of the girls you ate with everyday asked you to a girl’s night.

“You really should come.”

“The place has the best drinks it will be fun to let loose.”

You looked on at your coworkers with a spork nestled between your lips and wide nervous eyes. No one had invited you out in so long. Even Hawks couldn’t take you out on real dates because he feared his popularity would some how kill the romance. My it be a sudden villain attack or paparazzi neither of you wanted that. Instead, you both would enjoy quality time at home when he did manage to have time off. You loved the romance-comedy movie nights and cooking for him but ‘going out occasionally would be nice’.

Your coworkers laid on the peer pressure heavy to convince you to go with them on Friday night. As far as you know you didn’t have a premade plan with Hawks so with reluctance you finally gave in and agreed. The girls squealed loudly in victory pulling the attention of those around. You shyly slid down into your seat feeling embarrassed by the look’s others were sending over to your rambunctious table.

So, you now had a plan set for your Friday night with ‘Friends?’. After work while cooking a meal for one you sent Hawks a text letting him know you would be out and where. He didn’t replay so you knew he must be busy. Most nights were lonely but that was the reality of dating the number 2 hero. He worked hard and you respected him for that, but it didn’t change how you felt when you were alone.

Lonely nights also led to you having time to explore yourself. After your meal and shower were long forgotten you were now digging into your closet for something you thought you kept well hidden. A small shoebox that had your personal toys inside was under a pile of shoes in the corner.

Facing the bed, you placed the box down and flung the lid to the floor. You pulled out a small bottle of lube and a few various toys and left them on the bed. With a slight skip in your step, you lit a few candles and turned on your computer to pull up some picture you had saved of Hawks. Placing the laptop on the nightstand slightly angled so you would be able to see his face. Before you got started with your personal time you sent a quick goodnight text to Hawks hoping he would see it and not interrupt what you planned to do. The idea of him finding out was enough to redden your face from imagined humiliation.

Hawks wasn’t the one who had received your message. He was busy on his knees humming to the taste of villain in his mouth. The chirps of his phone were enough to cause irritated hand to lace into his hair and pull his lips off with a sloppy pop.

“Hand it over.” Dabi nearly growled as he spoke with clenched teeth. With a smile Hawks placed his phone in Dabi’s outstretched hand before being placed back onto his shaft.

The rhythm of Hawks became slower. Dabi was distracted thumbing through the phone. His other hand never left Hawks’ hair but instead of forcing himself deeper he was now casually stroking his fingers and nails into Hawks’ scalp.

He didn’t care much for the flirty message the two of you exchanged. He did find you Friday plans eye catching and forwarded the club information to himself. A notification popped up from the motion camera app on Hawks’ phone. You were blissfully unaware that your movements turned on a motion camera that Hawks had installed. Dabi opened the app watching your nude frame prance around your apartment.

Dabi’s grip on the back of Hawks’ head tightened when he watched you set up your private session. “Seems our little firecracker has a busy night planned do you want to see?” Dabi hissed as Hawks’ slowly backed is face up. Once free from his mouth Hawks’ to the chance to lick underneath Dabi’s length from base to tip. As he looked on to the video footage on his phone, he took Dabi in his hand giving long slow strokes.

Both of them watched with great interest as you stuffed a long bubble shaped glass dildo that was graciously covered in lube up your tight back entrance. You pumped it in and out until your body stretched enough for it to fully rest inside of you. With a free hand you reached for an L shaped toy that was brightly colored. Both their eyes filled with a newfound lust as they heard the muffled hum of the vibrations.

First you rested the buzzing toy at the top of your folds teasing your most sensitive nerves. Your other hand was slowly pumping the glass toy. Flinging your head back and loudly moaning a wave of pleasure crashed over you. For a moment you took the toy off your folds and breathed heavily.

Thinking you were done Dabi pulled the phone away and guided Hawks’ back to his task. The muffled sound of buzzing caused Dabi to pause before turning off the phone. He glanced over to see you rubbing the toy harder between your folds up and down the length. The sounds of your moans caused Hawks to hum with his mouth full. Dabi tightened his grip keeping Hawks’ from stopping this time.

His tongue aggressively scrapped along his teeth as he watched you. With your fluids well coated over the vibrating toy you plunged into your remaining hole. The site nearly caused him to release. He bit his tongue hard letting his head fall back to the dirty brick wall behind him. He listened to you moan. Closing his eyes to feel only the wet cavern of Hawks’ mouth suctioning around him. Between your sweet sounds and Hawks’ technique Dabi let out a grunt and hot ropes into his mouth.

Dabi was shaking his head and trying to blink his vision back. He felt nimble hands around his waist and noticed Hawks was resting his head on his collar bone watching as you were still pumping yourself. Dabi could feel Hawks’ pulsing hard length still confined in his pants as the hero leaned into him closer. His own shaft was spring back to life as they watched you grip both toys in one hand to pump both your holes. Hawks grinded onto Dabi’s leg like a dog in heat as they both watched you scream out before falling back on the mattress. Seeing you lazily pull the toys from your body and heavily panting while closing your laptop. Dabi turned off the phone knowing you were done with the little show you had unknowingly given them.

“How about you finish me off as well?” Hawks murmured into Dabi’s neck in between light kisses.

“Not happening.” He pushed the phone into Hawks’ chest forcing him to step back. With a slight jump and adjustment Dabi tucked himself back into the confines of his pants.

“Aww come on... don’t be like that. That so mean.” Hawks whined.

“Of course, it’s mean did you forget...” Dabi looked over at Hawks with an icy glow to his blue eyes. “I’m the villain.”

#dabi x reader x hawks #dabi smut #dabi is touya #touya smut #hawks smut #mha smut #keigo x you #friedchicken #keigo smut #keigo x touya

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thespoonisvictory · 3 years

Note

hello! just curious- all the current lore setbacks aside, if you were in charge of character wilbur at this point in time, what direction would you take his arc?

oh god oh jeez

I'm not going to list out a stream by stream layout because that's ridiculously time consuming and I don't really have anything tooooo specific in mind, here's my general idea, trying to follow generally what has been set up.

I'd continue on with wilbur bonding with other members of the dsmp and learning how to kind of live again. let's see him actually become friends with ranboo (while ranboo is still keeping shit from him ofc), talking to phil more, flirting with quackity, etc etc. for once in his existence, things are looking up for him, and while he's certainly not healed, he's doing a lot better.

it's tentative, pretty sweet, and while there are definitely moments of wilbur having some fucked up views regarding possession, he still says mean things sometimes, he's trying.

there's a few major snags in this, though. first of all, he still believes dream is his hero, and he's still avoiding tommy. also, he still hates himself and whatnot, but we're talking surface level.

(optional and self indulgent: I'd also include a conflict with niki here. maybe people are starting to change their minds on wilbur, niki is resolute in the fact that he hasn't changed for the better. wilbur keeps trying to make it up to her, blissfully unaware of everything that happened with tommy, and niki is just feeling both incredibly guilty and simultaneously angry. I want someone to not forgive wilbur yet.)

then- disaster! I've talked about how wilbur being framed for a prison break could be fun, but I also think him just fucking up would work. ideally, this coincides with dream essentially "beckoning" wilbur to his side. wilbur has the chance to backslide entirely, to throw away his new "paradise" and budding relationships. people have no faith in him to act otherwise, and that cuts deeper than wilbur wants to admit. he feels like people have been waiting for him to mess up, and while his fuck up is entirely his fault, he's still hurt.

and so, for a second, at least, he does backslide. probably siding with dream. until bam- tommy! despite them not talking to each other, tommy knows wilbur well enough to call him out for what he's doing. they have an emotional confrontation where wilbur admits he was staying away because he thought tommy hated him and tommy thought the same. in a whole moment of total emotional honesty, wilbur pulls out of whatever evil was going on for tommy's sake, and his own sake.

again, dream is thwarted by genuine connection, not expecting wilbur to do what he did.

anyway, wooo emotional catharsis and parallels to the button press except it goes well this time.

bonus points if:

phil fully expects wilbur not to change his mind and is proven completely wrong

niki doesn't expect it either, until the last second, when she realizes what's about to happen. they too have a whole big sentimental emotional conversation

something happens with fundy, idk I just think it needs to

quackity and wilbur end with mutual respect for each other, but nothing more

#wilbur soot #dream smp

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frunbuns · 3 years

Text

As the World Falls Apart

Read on Ao3

Padmé watches Obi-Wan rock Leia around the ship, willing her to stop crying. He shushes and coos at her as he gently pats her back. Nothing seems to work. He’s been trying for the past hour or so. Leia has a strong pair of lungs and doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. Even as Obi-Wan practically begs her to stop crying. Nothing works. They’ve tried feeding her. They’ve tried changing. At this point she’s just crying for the sake of it. She’s sure of it.

Obi-Wan looks dead on his feet as he paces from one part of the cockpit to the other. His eyes are bloodshot, red and splotchy. Dark bags under his eyes. His clothes are scorched and burnt. Hair tousled. He’s limping slightly. She hasn’t said anything about it, but she assumes it’s from his fight with Grievous. He hasn’t smiled once since they got back from Mustafar - not even one of his fake ones he puts on sometimes. (Except when the twins were born, but even that smile, while fond and loving, had been filled with heartbreak.) In fact, he looks miserable right now. Like he’s on the verge of crying. He probably is, Padmé muses. Padmé kinda feels like crying too.

She had offered to take Leia off him, but he had refused. Told her to remain seated, a dozing baby Luke in her arms. It was typical of him, really. Obi-Wan had always been good at giving pieces of himself, even at the expense of himself. He had been like that as long as they’d been friends.

It’s strange. How it has merely been hours since the twins had been born. And now they were hurtling through hyperspace. Master Yoda had told them to go to Naboo with the twins and go into hiding. Obi-Wan would serve as protection and a teacher once Luke and Leia start showing force sensitive abilities. They’ll need to learn how to control it. Padmé is just grateful she’s not going to be alone, and she’s sure Obi-Wan feels the same. She is grateful for his company, no matter how miserable they both might be right now. At least it’s something.

She’s glad he snuck onboard the ship when she went to Mustafar. She’s not sure what would have happened if he hadn’t. She thought she could talk some sense into him. Obi-Wan had probably thought so too. Even after all he’d done she still loved him. She continued to love him, even if he broke her heart. Obi-Wan too.

Anakin had always said he and Obi-Wan were closer than most jedi. That they were like brothers. That Obi-Wan had been like a father to him. Looking at him now, there’s no doubt the love was mutual. And as a mother now, she feels like she gets him better than she ever has. All of Anakin’s stories about Obi-Wan. Their little misadventures.

They were like two halves of a whole, and Padmé can’t help but feel like Obi-Wan died with Anakin on Mustafar in some way. The Obi-Wan in front of her is almost like a shell of the man she knew.

She can’t imagine having to do what Obi-Wan did. It’s just not fair. But things are rarely fair. With the war rampaging the galaxy, sith lords at every corner. The galaxy has never been fair, but it could at least try for Obi-Wan’s sake. Padmé can’t imagine being only thirty-eight years old and knowing as much heartbreak as Obi-Wan does. She can’t help but admire his strength. That he’s still standing right now. Padmé honestly feels like she’s going to break any moment.

And if Leia doesn’t stop crying soon she might start crying too.

Leia’s screeching is ear-piercing. She’s red in the face from the sheer effort of it. Tiny fists balled into the fabric of Obi-Wan’s tunic, tears streaming down her small face. It’s a miracle she hasn’t worn herself out by now. Padmé sure would have.

God she hopes this isn’t going to be a regular thing. She’s not sure she can take it. And from the looks of things Obi-Wan doesn’t either. Taking care of twins is going to be enough work, but having to deal with twins and a screaming baby sounds damn near impossible. Even for two people.

R2 beeps in sympathy from where he’s piloting the ship.

Padmé closes her eyes, preparing for the impending headache she knows she’s gonna get soon. But then the screeching stops. It just stops. Padmé can’t believe her ears, but when she opens her eyes again Leia seems to have settled against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, eyes half lidded and body lax. Obi-Wan looks at her with bewilderment. As if he can’t believe it either.

A range of emotions crosses his features before he closes his eyes, in utter relief, and lets out a choked sound. Something like a sob. It’s an utterly pathetic and pitiful sound. Something that’s not very becoming of a Jedi master. But she finds that she agrees as she smiles at him. Wet and a little crooked, but relieved.

But that’s not the end of it. It’s like the floodgates have finally opened - that the dam has broken - because Obi-Wan chokes back another sob. And another. And another. And then there are tears running down his cheeks and disappearing into his beard. And he’s sniffling as he suppresses shudders in an attempt to not disturb the now calm baby.

“Obi-Wan?” she murmurs, just loud enough for him to hear her. “Why don’t you sit down. You must be exhausted.”

He nods. “Y-yes that— that— I’m so-sorry. I—” He gasps and hiccups as he stumbles over the words. It’s truly a pitiful sight.

She does her best to put on a warm and comforting smile. Even as her whole body aches, she stands up and walks over to him, careful not to jostle Luke too much. She’s never seen him like this before, and if her heart didn’t feel like it was already shattered into a million pieces it would break even more now. “It’s okay,” she tells him, putting a hand on his arm. His tattered sleeve full of burns and holes. “It’s okay.”

Gently, she guides him back to the pilot’s seat and he slumps down into it. His sobs subsiding into quiet sniffles and silent tears. Leia appears to have drifted off to sleep, thank the stars. Padmé isn’t sure she can handle much more at this point. She envies them. The twins. And their ability to just fall asleep as the world falls apart around them. They haven’t got a clue what’s happening around them. Everything is in shambles, and she’s grateful that they’re blissfully unaware of it all.

The ship rumbles beneath their feet. It’s a sturdy craft. Skillfully built and probably expensive, but awfully boringly decorated on the inside. It’s nothing like Padmé’s ships. But she supposes the jedi don’t really care for such.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan croaks after a while. “I mean it.”

Padmé raises a brow at him. “Why?”

“I failed him. I failed Anakin,” he says, voice tight as he avoids her gaze. the light of the stars dancing across his features and glimmering in his glassy eyes. “I should have realised something was wrong. He was my padawan. I should have known.”

“Obi-Wan,” she murmurs. “Palpatine groomed and manipulated him for years. It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done. We did our best.”

“I shouldn’t have let him see him. I always knew there was something about him.”

The corner of Padmé’s lips quirk upwards. “I never liked him either,” she says. To which Obi-Wan smiles at her, albeit faintly and ever so briefly. At least it’s something.

Leia continues to doze on Obi-Wan’s chest, ear pressed to his chest where his heart beats below his ribcage. She looks so small with his hand almost covering up her entire back. She just wishes anakin was here. So he could enjoy his children with her. Like he should. But she supposes Obi-Wan will have to do. As far as she’s concerned, he is the next best thing. He did raise Anakin, after all.

Padmé breaks the silence. “So what does this make you then?” she asks, humour in her voice. “Grandpa Obi-Wan?”

She hears the jedi snort. “Surely I’m too young for such a title.”

“Oh yeah, old man? Pretty sure I heard your joints pop when you sat down just now.”

“You’re going to regret saying those words in ten years time when you’re my age.”

Padmé smiles, a real, genuine smile, for what feels like the first time in forever. She even chuckles a little. A little quiet and awkward, but genuine. When she looks at Obi-Wan he is smiling so wide it reaches his eyes.

They’ll be exiting hyperspace soon, but right now they can rest. Just her, her children and Obi-Wan. Some ragtag team for a family, but she doesn't really mind the idea of it. There’s just something missing.

Obi-Wan strokes Leia’s back so gently it almost looks like he’s afraid to break her. He watches her with such softness and adoration it makes Padmé’s heart swell. He has only known them for a day and he already loves them. Anakin would be ecstatic.

“I just wish Anakin was here.”

Obi-wan stops stroking Leia’s back momentarily, fixing her with a gaze she can’t quite deschipher. “Me too,” he murmurs. “They’re wonderful, Padmé. He would have adored them.”

Padmé nods, a sad smile on her face. “He would have.” Her heart aches at the thought of it, but she appreciates the sentiment. “I’m glad you’re here though, Obi-Wan. It means a lot that I’m not alone.”

“I’m glad too, dear,” he tells her softly. “I’m not sure what I’d do if— I mean—” He swallows thickly. “—Almost everyone I knew is dead. Mace, Bant, Luminara, Quin… Ahsoka. Oh god, Ahsoka.”

Padmé can almost feel the grief in the air. She wonders if this is what it’s like to be a jedi. To have one of those bonds that Anakin had talked about.

“I’m sorry too,” she tells him. “About the jedi, and the clones… And Anakin. I know you loved him.”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and nods solemnly. He doesn’t need to say anything. She understands. She reaches out and grabs his hand where it lies limply in his lap. It’s calloused and scarred, but warm and gentle. Obi-Wan’s hand is warm and firm in her hand. A little bigger than hers, a little rougher. The hand of a jedi. Of a long life lived. Of a friend. A mentor. Even a father. She can imagine him ruffling a young Anakin’s hair with. Righting Ahsoka’s grip on her lightsaber. Shaking her hand at events. She gives his hand a squeeze and hopes he gets it. He does. He squeezes her hand back. They sit like that for the rest of the journey.

They exit hyperspace, the ship jolting slightly from it. In the distance Padmé spots Naboo. As long as she had lived on Coruscant Naboo would always be her home. And now it would be Obi-Wan’s too, she supposes. She looks over at him and finds him with his eyes closed. As if he’s asleep. She smiles. She can wait to wake him until they’ve landed. He could use the rest. She could too, honestly.

She misses Anakin already. Not the man she saw on Mustafar, but the man she fell in love with. The father of her children. The man that loved, and was loved in return. Her Anakin. Obi-Wan’s Anakin. Ahsoka’s Anakin. A man that was flawed, but good. A man that was kind. Her husband. Ahsoka’s master. Obi-Wan’s padawan. God, she misses him. Just the thought of him makes her heart ache.

They’ll be okay, Padmé thinks. Not right now. Maybe not for a while. But one day. She’s sure of it. They’ve survived so far. They’ve got each other. They just need a moment of quiet. Just a little moment. They’ll be okay. Just not right now.

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softyoongiionly · 5 years

Text

(Sugar Plum) Fairy Lights🎡

It’s New Year’s Eve but, Yoongi doesn’t feel like waiting til midnight to kiss you.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut, a wee bit of fluff at the end.

Word Count: 9.8k

Warnings: okay I know I say explicit smut alot but, this one is EXTRA explicit (18+ only plz), language, BDSM (proceed with caution)

***Bold sections of text indicate a flashback, all bold phrases indicate when Yoongi is speaking Korean***

Based on: this ask x and, also a big thank you to @me-trash-tbh for showing me these pictures.

A/N: Happy New Year >:)

Back to the masterlist! (click here)

Yoongi is feeling good.

He’s ringing in the new year in the best way he can possibly think of:

Good food, good company, good alcohol and-

Holy shit.

Is that, is that really his girlfriend?

Like, HIS girlfriend? Walking through the door, dressed to the nines?

Your presence is noticed by the other guests in his home, some of their gazes lingering a little too long for his liking.

He knows the whiskey Hoseok bought was good shit but, he’s still sober enough to discern whether or not he’s dreaming.

However, as soon as you walk through the door, he isn’t quite sure anymore.

It’s New Year’s Eve so, naturally you had opted for a sparkly outfit but, you’d be lying if you didn’t purposely opt for a number that would mess with Yoongi’s heartbeat a little bit.

Or, at least, you hoped it would.

The dress is simple: black glittery material, deep v-neck, long sleeves; it isn’t anything spectacular but, you did take an extra hour to properly do your hair and, apply a full face of makeup.

The detail that has Yoongi all kinds of flustered however, is the necklace hanging between your breasts.

It’s a silver necklace with diamond studded letters that read ‘Agust D’ hanging in the center of the chain.

You smile, waving at a few mutual friends convening over by the beer pong table before Namjoon quickly ushers you towards the living room.

Yoongi hasn’t feel this way in a long time.

After dating you for nearly six months, he’s found that he doesn’t get nervous around you as much as he used to. You still fluster him sure but, he isn’t constantly worried about saying or doing the wrong thing anymore. He isn’t stumbling over his words as much either but, right now, he is practically frozen in place.

Whilst talking to Namjoon, you finally look up to spot him, standing by the kitchen counter.

He looks hot with a glass of whiskey in his hand and, although his outfit is simple, a white t-shirt tucked into some black jeans, it’s adding to your desire to get your hands on him.

“Ah there he is, Hyung!” Namjoon smiles, his dimples poking out, blissfully unaware of the sexual tension brewing between you and your boyfriend. “Look who’s here.”

Yoongi jerks his head in acknowledgement, playing it cool as he sets his glass down on the countertop.

“Did you bring more whiskey?” He jests but, you know the look in his eyes and, you know he’s checking you out.

“No, I figured you’d be drunk enough already,” You smirk, “since you’re such a lightweight these days.”

Yoongi smiles then, gums and all; he loves how much you play along with his teasing.

“I could drink anybody in this house under the table; you’re the one you got hammered off two jack and cokes last month.”

With a roll of your eyes and a smile threatening your lips, you ignore his last comment, mainly because he isn’t wrong and, you don’t have a comeback prepared, “I thought you said he was in a good mood…”

Your comment is directed towards Namjoon, who is currently smirking fondly beside you; he enjoys seeing the two of you together; especially because, after a number of late night talks with Yoongi, he’s come to discover how much Yoongi loves you.

“This is him being in a good mood. You should know this by now.” He chuckles before his face turns up as someone calls his name, “I gotta get back to hosting” Namjoon glances between the two of you, “You two play nice. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Namjoon squeezes your arm gently as he walks back into the crowd of party goers, leaving you alone with your feisty boyfriend.

You step towards him, itching to smooth your hands over the planes of his chest, itching to kiss his clever mouth…

But you don’t, you know what he’s playing at.

He tries to resist you from time to time, pulling back to see if you’ll chase him.

It’s all for fun though and, you know that.

Because, it’s secretly a way to get what he wants.

“Do you like my dress?” You venture, trying to wiggle your way through his demeanor, tilting your head to the side.

Yoongi’s eyes flicker over your body momentarily before, he shrugs, “It’s sparkly...”

Your eyes narrow at him and, although you know he’s messing around with you, you feel a little discouraged by his reaction. Several hours were spent in an effort to look your best for the evening and, all he has to say is ‘its sparkly’ ????

Yoongi takes another sip of whisky, his tongue poking out soon after to collect the amber liquid lingering on his lips.

They’re wet and inviting, his cheeks are flushed from the liquor and, given that you haven’t seen him in a week, you’re aching to feel his lips against yours.

“I thought of getting this silver one that had a bunch of rhinestones on it but, it was too itchy. I like black better anyway…”

Yoongi nods, a smirk lingering on his lips, “So do I.”

Your boyfriend is a stubborn man and, while he may be capable of restraining himself, you know for a fact that he won’t resist affection.

He plays this game from time to time but, he should know by know that you’re much better at it.

So, you make the first move by closing the space between you, sliding your hands over his waist, allowing your nails to brush lightly against his back.

“You look good in white…” You murmur, allowing your fingertips to caress his skin through the thin material.

He clears his throat, glancing away from you momentarily, raising the glass to his lips again for another drink.

Before he can articulate a response, you interject, “Can I have some?”

With your question, you usher his lips down to yours, capturing the taste of whiskey on your tongue.

Yoongi tries and fails to control the shudder that moves through his body and, his plans to play hard to get are slowly but surely going down the drain.

His lips are so soft, moving timidly against your own, his eyes fluttering shut as the sensation of kissing messes with his sobriety more than whiskey ever could.

“Thanks.” You say, pulling back from his mouth, “I see you’re in a mood tonight and, we can keep playing this game if you want to but, I just want to warn you,” Smoothing your thumb over his lips, you tilt his face down towards yours, “I’m much better at it than you are…”

He finally smirks again, his teeth quickly securing your thumb between them, his feline-like eyes ��locking with yours, “You think I don’t know that?”

You return his smirk, keeping your thumb in his mouth as you respond, “You’re acting like you don’t. But that’s fine. I did think maybe you’d appreciate my outfit a little more though, considering the fact that I wore your name around my neck.”

You take your thumb out of his mouth, keeping eye contact with him as you bring it to your lips, suckling on the end of it.

Yoongi follows the motions of your lips, sighing out shakily as you suck on your thumb. He feels his dick stir between his legs but, he controls himself, he doesn’t want the game to end so quickly. Although, he feels a little bad at the thought of not appreciating you, he doesn’t want to give up.

Not yet at least.

“I like the necklace a lot. Did you have it made?” He sips his whiskey, doing his best not to address the rest of your comment.

You nod, fingertips brushing over the silver chain, “Mhm. What are you drinking?”

“Hibiki.” His accent peaks out as he pronounces the word, “it’s a Japanese whiskey. It’s one of my favorites.” He nods towards the bottles of liquor arranged neatly on the counter, “Do you want a drink? There’s a drink called a Black Ship I think you’d like.”

“Sure.” You smile, shoving down the small amount of offense you’re beginning to feel at Yoongi’s indifference.

To be fair, you always have the upper hand when it comes to seduction. With a brush of your hand, Yoongi will fall to his knees for you. You know nothing has changed, you know he still wants you.

But tonight, he wants you in a different way.

Tonight, he wants you in the worst way.

This desire has been brewing for quite some time whilst you and Yoongi have continued to explore your sexual interests. You’ve been having sex for a while but, given your equally busy schedules, you don’t actually have sex often, maybe once or twice a week.

Before Yoongi met you, that would be enough. He didn’t find himself extremely interested in sex the way his friends were. Sure, he liked it and, he’s slept with a hand full of people but, he didn’t consider himself a sexual person.

That is, until he met you.

You awakened something in him and, through your sex life, Yoongi has discovered a lot about himself that he didn’t know.

He was never submissive with any of his previous partners. For the most part, he was always expected to take the lead and, yeah he liked being on top sometimes but, he always longed to be taken care of.

Lucky for him, he found the girl of his dreams who does just that.

However, Yoongi’s come to realize that he possesses darker desires too…

He knew that after the first time the two of you had sex in his studio; it was the first time he ever fully submitted to you.

That was months ago and, the two of you haven’t fully breached that territory since then.

Yoongi’s a collected and careful man. He doesn’t act on his impulses so, when he started to feel that kind of desire tugging at his loins, he consulted someone who he could trust with this kind of information.

Someone who’s knowledge is infinite.

Someone who’s well versed in the language of perversion.

“Nothing you’re going to tell me will shock me hyung. I promise…”

On a drunken Saturday night, a little over a week ago, Yoongi had finally spilled his desires to Namjoon.

Yoongi knew of Namjoon’s sexual appetite as it started blooming when the two of them were in high school.

“I’m not sure about that.” Yoongi had mumbled, feeling self-conscious at confiding in his dongsaeng

Namjoon smirked, leaning back in the lawn chair, taking another sip of beer, “Do you ever wonder why I usually stay at Dani’s place? Instead of bringing her back here?”

“Not really no-“

He cut Yoongi off, “Because I only get to see her once a week and, when I see her, I make sure I give her something to think about until I can see her again.” His smirk didn’t falter, “and if I did that here, you guys wouldn’t get any sleep.”

Yoongi grimaced and shrunk into his chair at the vulgar tone of Namjoon’s voice, “That’s disgusting.”

Namjoon laughed as he shook his head, “Sex isn’t disgusting hyung. It’s an amazing thing and, if you’re honest with yourself,” He shoots a pointed look Yoongi’s way, “it can heal your soul.”

At this, Yoongi had rolled his eyes.

Namjoon could be ridiculous at times.

He had finally found time to date and, according to him, he had met an amazing girl named Danielle whilst he was studying at a café.

They had only been dating for a few months but, Namjoon swore he was already in love.

“I don’t think sex is disgusting…”

“Then what is it? I’ve never heard any complaints from you about the way you and Y/N_” He paused, searching for the right word before Yoongi interjected.

“Fuck?”

Namjoon’s smirked quickly returned as he nodded, impressed with Yoongi’s choice of words.

“That’s because there isn’t anything to complain about. It’s the best I’ve ever had, it’s probably the best anyone has ever had.”

Namjoon resisted the urge to argue with him, “Then what’s wrong?”

“I want more.”

“More sex? Or more out of sex?”

Yoongi sighed, frustrated by his inability to express himself, “Neither. I-“ He chewed on his lip, his gaze shifting around the back patio, “A few months ago, she came to my studio and, we ended up having sex but, it was like…rough and, it made me feel-“ He trails off, gnawing on the inside of his cheek, searching for the right words to say, “it was just really amazing. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“So you want to be rougher with her? That isn’t weird at all hyung, Dani and I do that all the time. We just have open discussions about it to-“

“No no,” Yoongi interjected, “I want her to be rougher with me Namjoon.”

Realization had flurried over his face as Namjoon’s smirk threatened his mouth once again.

“You want to be submissive.” He clarified, chuckling when his normally confident hyung shifted in his seat.

“I was that night and, I guess I am a lot of the time but, not to the extent I’d like to be.”

“Meaning?”

“I don’t know.” He groaned. “She choked me and, scratched me and, the way she spoke to me, I was…I was in heaven Namjoon. I’m just being honest, I’m sorry if this is perverted but, you asked me what I wanted and-“

“Hyung,” Namjoon chuckles, a dark glint in his eyes, “The other night, I tied Dani to her kitchen chair and teased her for so long that when I finally let her out of the chair, she got on her hands and knees and kissed my feet, begging me to fuck her.”

Yoongi’s mouth went dry at Namjoon’s confession but, he shouldered on, nodding in consideration, “Yeah see, I want to be Dani in that situation.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that hyung, we all have our preferences. I didn’t peg Y/N for the dominant type though...she seems so laid back.” Namjoon caught the irony immediately, “Not that that matters but, I’m guessing she’s difficult to rile up.”

Yoongi nodded, “I don’t want to rile her up for the wrong reasons and, I don’t want her to feel like she needs to serve me or, do anything just because I want her to.”

“What happened that night at your studio? What made it escalate?”

He thought for a moment, “I had locked myself in the studio during my composition project. I asked her to come by because, I was feeling really overwhelmed and, then we started kissing and…then I asked her to take care of me, to make me forget.”

“Ah,” Namjoon nods in understanding, “I see. People are dominant for their own reasons, some people like it for the power and control but, some people like, Y/N, like it because it gives them a chance to nurture their partner. What do you like about it?”

“Namjoon” Yoongi groaned but, Namjoon just looked at him expectantly, not letting him off the hook, “I like letting someone take control of me. I feel tense a lot of time but, I’ve never felt more at peace than after her and I did that. I kind of felt high? If that even makes sense.”

“Oh it definitely makes sense. You probably went into subspace if it got intense enough.”

“Subspace?” Yoongi’s brows furrowed

“Yeah, its like this intense feeling you get before or during sex that involves some level of bdsm. It’s the sympathetic nervous system’s response to the mix of pain and pleasure. According to Dani, it can be pretty overwhelming, she gets really soft and, sweet…” Namjoon’s pupils went out of focus for a second as he thought of his girlfriend before he quickly shakes his head, “I’m not gonna go into detail, cause...that’s for my eyes only but, uh it sounds like you experienced something similar.”

“Thanks yeah, I don’t want to know anymore...” Yoongi grumbled

Namjoon just chuckled again, finishing the rest of his beer before continuing, “Look hyung, I’m gonna be honest with you, if you want to bring out that side of Y/N maybe you need to give her a reason to rough you up a little bit. As someone’s Dom, I know how important it is to have a balance of sweet and sour, or pain and pleasure for instance. It’s what she likes, it’s what I like, it makes it all the more intense and enjoyable for the both of us. It sounds to me like you want to be roughed up a little bit and, in order to get that, you might have to give Y/N a reason to...”

Yoongi pondered this for a second and, although he wants to come up with a smart ass response, he can’t help but concede, “I don’t want to make her mad on purpose though, that seems manipulative.”

Namjoon shook his head, “It’s not like that, it’s all for fun obviously. I’m not suggesting you do something to make her mad. It’s like cat and mouse but, I guess in your case its like cat and...cat.” Namjoon’s brows furrowed as the alcohol begins to hit his system and, Yoongi chuckled fondly in response.

“Cat and cat...got it.” He smirks, “Thanks. I’ll keep it mind and, uh I guess, don’t be surprised if I disappear during the New Years Party.”

That was the end of the conversation and the main inspiration behind Yoongi’s behavior tonight.

You’re sitting on the barstool as he makes your drink, admiring the way his nimble fingers screw and unscrew the caps on the various bottles of liquor and juice.

“What’s in this drink that you’re making me?” You inquire, resting your chin against the palm of your hand.

“Hibiki,” He nods to the bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter, “pomegranate juice, port,” Yoongi holds up a large bottle of red wine, “which is like a sweet red wine and, a little bit of lemon juice.”

You nod in consideration, your eyes still lingering on the movements of his hands as they push the cap of the martini shaker on.

Yoongi licks his lips, glancing down at you before beginning to shaking the drink mix around a few times. As he concludes, he grabs a martini glass from the counter behind him and pours the amber liquid into its confines.

He’s quick to grab half of the lemon he juiced, using a pairing knife to slice off a bit of the peel and, plopping that into your drink.

“Garnish with a lemon twist.” He finishes, sliding the drink towards you, “I don’t have the patience to make lemon twists right now but, let me know if you like it.”

You giggle at his comment, taking the glass in your hands and, quickly bringing it to your lips.

The drink isn’t something you’d normally go for but, its fantastic: Smooth and fruity, with a hint of woodsy notes from the whiskey.

It reminds you of Yoongi.

“It’s really good actually, this isn’t something I’d normally order but, the flavor is amazing.”

Yoongi smiles, letting a bit of his normal demeanor show through.

He can’t resist your approval no matter how hard he tries.

“Let me know if you want another one in a bit.” Yoongi puts some of the liquor away and, grabs his glass to splash a bit more whiskey in it.

You sip your drink for a moment as your eyes narrow at your boyfriend, “Is everything ok?”

Yoongi’s face turns up in curiosity, “Yeah of course, why wouldn’t it be?”

“I mean, I don’t know, we haven’t seen each other in a week...I guess I just thought you’d be like, excited to see me or something.” You throw a smirk his way, trying to appear playful despite your actual concern.

Yoongi does play this game from time to time but, usually a kiss from you will break him down a little bit but, he doesn’t seem phased at all.

“Who says I’m not excited to see you?” He retorts, making his way around the counter, eyeing you in the process.

“No one said that but, I don’t know,” Your teeth nibble on your bottom lip as you set your drink down, “I spent a long time getting ready for you...you didn’t even say anything.”

Fuck.

This isn’t going Yoongi’s way at all.

Because now, he feels like the world’s shittiest boyfriend.

Of course he noticed your outfit, your hair, your makeup, the fucking necklace.

Of course he thought you looked absolutely incredible but, he was trying to be cool...he was trying to rile you up...

Did he do it wrong?

Was Namjoon wrong?

Fuck he was wasn’t he?

Damnit Namjoon.

“Shit...” He abandons his drink on the granite, moving closer to you to tilt your chin up towards him, “I’m so sorry. You look unbelievable.” He places a few gentle kisses against your lips, feeling like a proper idiot, “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I was just trying to be like...I talked to Namjoon and, he said if I wanted you to be dominant, I should misbehave or something. Fuck, this sounds so immature I’m sorry.”

Poor Yoongi, he really should be more careful shouldn’t he?

“What was that?” You pull back from his lips, mock innocence on your face, “Namjoon said what now?”

Yoongi’s words get caught in his throat at your tone.

It’s not your normal tone; it’s that tone.

“I...uh” He doesn’t move away from you, “he said that- um...” Yoongi’s voice trails off as he feels your hand slowly sliding up his t-shirt, “He said if I wanted you to be dominant again, I should be a brat or something, I can’t remember. It was a dumb idea.”

“Oh? So is that what you’ve been after then?” You coo, tilting your head as your fingers inch towards his neck. Thankfully, the kitchen is all but abandoned for now but, you’re wary of the fact that someone could walk in at any time, “You want to me to take control of you?”

Yoongi is trying his best to reign in his reaction to you but, he can’t help the way his body arches towards your touch.

“Ye-yeah...” He whispers, wetting his lips with his tongue, his nipples growing stiff beneath his t-shirt.

“Ask me nicely.” You order, letting your fingertips ghost over the base of his neck.

“I don’t even know what I’m asking for anymore, I just want you.” He confesses, wishing to feel your grip around his neck.

“But I didn’t bring any whiskey with me?” You tease, squeezing gently around his adams apple.

Yoongi shakes his head, his eyes widening in an attempt to plead with you, “I don’t care, I was just being stupid.”

“If you wanted this, all you had to do was ask Yoongi, I always reward you when you’re honest don’t I?” You move from your seat, grabbing the neck of the Hibiki bottle, “But you weren’t honest tonight were you?”

“No.” He answers immediately, his adams apple bobbing in his throat, “I wasn’t.”

“What do you think should happen to you now?” You inquire, brows rising as you pull his gaze towards you.

And he surprises you when his lips turn up in a half smirk, eagerness flooding his eyes, “I should be punished, for being dishonest to you.”

“Take me to your room.” You order, returning his smirk and, Yoongi’s response is immediate as he interlaces his fingers with your own, tugging you towards his bedroom.

As soon as Yoongi shuts the door, you push his back against it, your hand quickly taking its place around his neck. His gasp is swallowed by your mouth, the two of you kissing feverishly against the wood. Apart from the rainbow colored Christmas lights adorning Yoongi’s bed frame, his room is almost completely dark.

Under that subtle glow, you kiss your pliant boyfriend with everything you have. For the moment, you indulge him, suckling at his lips, slowly moving your tongue against his.

You kiss him like he’s about to get laid, despite the fact that his orgasm has yet to be earned.

“What’s your safe word?” You whisper against his lips, using your free hand to tease over the waistband of his jeans.

“Dragon.” He whispers, leaning into your mouth, desperate to continue your kiss.

With a smirk, you connect with his lips once again but, this time you allow your fingers to untuck his t-shirt from the waistband of his jeans. As the material unfurls, you sneak your hands beneath it and, run your nails over the tender skin of his lower stomach.

Yoongi has a thing for your nails; whether they dig in to leave aggravated red marks on his body or they tickle against him like they are now, he’s addicted to the way they feel.

Yoongi curses into your mouth, bracing himself against his door, “I love when you touch me like this.”

You say nothing but, the smirk returns to your lips as you take the time to deepen the kiss. You pull out all the stops, suckling and nibbling on his bottom lip, nudging his nose, playing with his tongue. Yoongi feels his dick grow in the tight confines of his jeans and, he suddenly wonders what exactly he’s got himself into. This kiss is turning him on so much, he can’t imagine the agony he’s about to endure whilst waiting to be inside of you.

The two of you kiss at his door for quite some time, longer than Yoongi expects. He doesn’t mind, he could kiss you forever but, the vibe that had been blooming between you, lead him to think you were going to pull him to his bedroom and punish him.

Maybe you’ve changed your mind?

“I’m glad you love it…” You finally murmur against his lips, pecking at the bottom one, “Cause it’s all you’re going to feel for awhile.”

He knows it’s a threat but, he can’t help the excitement swimming through his veins.

“Arms up.”

He obliges immediately, raising his arms above his head, his shirt lifting up as he does, exposing his lower stomach.

You take advantage of that, sinking to your knees, taking Yoongi’s breath away when you do.

Pushing his shirt up, you start placing wet sloppy kisses against the softness of his belly, nibbling at his hip bones, trailing your lips all over the small patch of skin.

Yoongi’s eyes widen, his mouth parting in awe as he watches you.

“Take your shirt off.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, his fingertips grasp at the white material, pulling it off his body in a matter of seconds. As his arms start to come back down, he hesitates, “D-Do you still want my arms up?”

“Hm,” You muse, eyeing each of them as they stay stagnant beside him, “let me see your hand first.”

Yoongi offers it to you and, its then you notice that he’s trembling, the observation stirs something wick inside of you.

He’s going to be doing a lot of that tonight.

You take his hand between both of yours and, starting at his thumb you take each of his long fingers in your mouth, sucking them from the base all the way to his bitten nail bed.

Unstable breaths rush out of his nose as he regards you with an awestruck stare.

Without any mercy, you take his other hand, repeating the same motions, slowing down your pace slightly.

Yoongi’s gnawing on his bottom lip now, breaking the delicate skin with his teeth. His freshly dyed black hair is falling in his eyes, deepening the darkness looming in them.

“You’re wishing this was something else aren’t you?”

He nods, his lip still in his mouth as he watches you.

“What?” You urge him, dropping his hand and, leaning in towards the button his jeans.

Yoongi’s voice is unstable now as he’s so turned on; he’s having trouble thinking clearly.

“My dick.”

His voice is so hot right now, raspy and uncontrolled, his accent peeking through.

Once he answers, you pop open the button and, slowly unzip his pants, tugging them all the way down to his ankles.

“Step out of them…”

Yoongi’s black boxers are warped around his erection, which is standing painfully away from his hips, his jeans pushed to the side.

Starting at his ankles, you begin running your nails up his skin. As you get to his inner thighs, your fingers begin tickling over the sensitive flesh, ghosting up to tease underneath the legs of his boxers.

His pretty lips part whilst an aching breath leaves his throat.

You smooth your fingertips over the black cotton and, at first you’re careful to avoid his length until you decide to use your mouth to kiss at him through his underwear.

It causes his eyes to squeeze shut and his head to tilt back against the door.

You take the time to admire the way his throat strains due to his clenching jaw before you finally pull his boxers off. Your lips quickly find his length, brushing against it, allowing your tongue to curl around his dripping tip.

“Wh-“ The sound rustles past your boyfriends lips, as if he’s in shock.

He doesn’t expect you to have your mouth on him so soon and, he’s a little confused if he’s being honest but, as soon he feels you suck on his tip, his confusion quickly becomes irrelevant.

Keeping your eyes on him, your cheek hollow out as you work your mouth over his dick, using your right hand to stroke what doesn’t fit between your lips.

Yoongi’s eyes open immediately, rushing to meet your own, his hips twitching at the pleasure you’re providing.

“I-“ He breathes, his eyes lulling as you increase your pace on him, “is this my p-punishment?”

You smirk as best as you can around his length, your free hand coming up to brush against his tight balls. Your tongue caresses against the sweet spot on his tip, causing an almost inaudible whimper to bubbles past his lips.

You’re doing everything he likes.

Everything you’d normally do to make him cum really hard.

He doesn’t understand, he thought he was in trouble.

But, he doesn’t feel like he’s in trouble.

Your silence unnerves him however and, the motions of your mouth are becoming more and more devastating.

Still pumping his length, you focus your attention on his balls now, licking over them, suckling at the tightening skin whilst your fist curves around his tip, squeezing gently as you increase your pace on it.

“Y/N…” Yoongi’s shaky voice warns, his upper body bending towards your mouth, the pleasure punching a hole through his stomach, “you’re gonna make me cum.”

And that right there is exactly what you were waiting for.

Your motions cease then and, you pull back to look up at your boyfriend to finally reveal your true intentions.

“I am going to make you cum,” You agree, kitten licking at his weeping slit, delighting at the shiver it causes, “when I feel like it.”

Yoongi is in the loop now.

This most certainly is a punishment and, it’s only just begun.

All he can do is try to control his breathing as his impending orgasm quickly fades from view.

He can feel the sweat gathering at the back of his neck as he tries to anticipate your next move.

Before he has time to get his bearings, your lips are back on him, setting the same devastating pace all over again, caressing his balls just the way he likes.

“Shit,” He chokes, his body lurching forward, his hips jerking at their own accord. “,that feels so good.”

He’s saying it because he’s only capable of being candid at the moment, all sense of sense is completely out the window.

“Mhm,” You moan around his length, sucking off until your lips are brushing at the tip again, “it would feel so good to cum wouldn’t it?”

All he can do is nod, his teeth taking their place back against his bottom lip, which is already raw from his previous motions.

“But you don’t get to cum do you?”

He shakes his head, agony flashing through his dark eyes.

“And why is that?”

Your question is paired with a slow lick up his dick and, a gentle squeeze of his balls.

Yoongi’s expression shifts to one of sincerity, “Because I wasn’t honest with you and, I didn’t express myself.”

You pull away completely now, your eyes flickering towards his bed, “Go stand next to your bed and, face away from me.”

He looks confused but, he obeys you without question, rushing over to stand where you’ve indicated, facing away from you.

Standing behind him, your nails come into play again, brushing against his hips, trailing up his ribcage to circle around his painfully hard nipples.

As soon as he feels you, he melts back against your body, eyes shut mouth parted; completely surrendered to you.

“You hurt my feelings Yoongi.” You whisper against the crook of his neck, brushing your lips there. “I thought I was losing my touch or something.”

You can almost taste his cologne and, for a split second you want to end the torture but, you know it will be worth it for the both of you in the end.

Your boyfriend opens his eyes, regret painting his features as he tilts his head towards you, “No no, don’t think that, you could never lose your touch.”

His lips brush against yours during his response but, he doesn’t try to kiss you, he knows he hasn’t earned that privilege back.

Your nails are making their way up to his chest, trailing along the curves of his collarbones, a dark smile inching onto your lips.

“I wore a necklace with your name on it…” You whisper into his ear, which elicits another shiver from him.

“I love your necklace, I was so honored when I saw it, it was all an act, and you know that. It’s always an act.” He pleads with you, eyes squeezing shut again at the pleasure.

“Do you want a necklace too Yoongi?” You coo in his ear, preparing your nails at the base of his neck

“Wh-?” He begins to question but, quickly he is brought up to speed as you begin using your nails to carve the letters of your name into his skin.

And he knows it too, he’s memorized every letter, he’s said it a thousand times…

“Oh my god.” He keens, his knees feeling weak enough to collapse

A dark giggle leaves your lips as you nibble on his earlobe, “God isn’t here right now Yoongi.”

“Yes she is.” His shaky voice holds a bit of venom in it, as if he’s offended by your statement.

His response causes an ache in your panties but to thwart your own desires, you quickly wrap a hand around his neck, placing it right over the base of his throat.

“Say please.” You coo into his ear, nudging your nose against the hot flesh of his cheek

“Please choke me…”

And you do, squeezing his neck just enough to ignite that light headed feeling he loves so much.

“Touch yourself.”

Yoongi’s quick to follow orders, his eyes fluttering open as he squeezes at the base of his swollen length, pulling up and over the tip of his dick.

“Y/N…Y/N, you know what this does to me.” Yoongi mutters through the haze of his pleasure, his hand faltering slightly when you squeeze harder. His cat-eyes widen as the fingers on your free hand come up to pinch his nipple; they feel so sensitive, every sensation is intensified with your grip on his neck.

“Faster, I wanna see you drip for me.”

Yoongi’s never had you like this before, your mercy would have shown through during previous encounters but, with you holding onto your dominance, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold off his orgasm much longer.

But fuck if he won’t try his very best.

“I’m already dripping for you…look at me.” Yoongi’s unstable voice is deep enough to rumble in his chest and, while he has a point, it doesn’t stop him from increasing the pace on his dick. “Please look at me.”

His plea is nonsense; he knows you’re looking at him and, you know that’s not really what he’s asking.

He’s asking you to see how sorry he is.

“I see you baby,” You coo, licking up the shell of his ear, “you’re so pretty when you wanna cum for me.”

He smiles then, his eyes locking onto yours but, you can see how fucked up he is.

You can see him ascending to where he wants to be…

“I must be pretty all the time then.”

Fuck, he sounds so hot.

He’s so desperate for you but, he sounds like such a man and, you can’t help but kiss him again, using your lips to drive him mad.

“Y/N, please I’m gonna cum if I don’t slow down.” Yoongi sighs hopelessly into the kiss, turning his body towards you

With your brows raised, you pull back, “Do you want to know what will happen to you if you cum without my permission.”

His smile darkens, pleasure distorting a bratty expression, “Kind of.”

As your grip tightens around his neck again, his face turns up in desperation.

“If you cum without my permission, I won’t fuck you for a month.”

Your threat is clear and understood and with the widening of Yoongi’s eyes he nods obediently.

“I’ll be good, I promise.” He vows, increasing the speed on his dick, his hips jerking up against his hand.

Your hand leaves his neck to focus on his nipples, rubbing and pinching at them as he touches himself.

“I know you will,” You whisper in his ear, nodding your head towards the bed, “Go lay down.”

As Yoongi’s back hits the bed, you’re quick to descend over him, allowing your dress to ride up over your hips.

You wore something special underneath your dress too; black lacy underwear and a bra to match.

It’s simple but, it suits the both of you very well and, just as you hoped, it was fucking with his heartbeat.

“Fuck, I really like those…” Yoongi whispers, his hands itching at his sides; he wants to touch you so bad but, he knows he shouldn’t, he knows he hasn’t earned that yet. His eyes flicker up to yours, trying to convey he’s sincerity, “You look so good jagiya.”

His accent is getting thicker as he uses a native term of endearment

“You think so?” You tilt your head, allowing your hips to sink fully down against his, your panties pressing directly on his dick.

“So good.” Is all he says but, it comes in the form of a whimper whilst his tongue wet hits lips again.

Leaning down, you place a searing kiss to his mouth, letting him indulge you once again. He’s sloppier this time, his desire intoxicating him but, he still doesn’t touch you, regardless of how much he wants to.

“You have two choices,” You begin, slightly breathless yourself because, despite Yoongi being submissive, his kisses still fuck with you, “,you can either see me or you can touch me.”

He doesn’t even bother asking what you mean before his answer is tumbling past his lips, “I wanna see you, please. I wanna watch…”

Now all you gotta do is decide what to tie him up with. Pulling away from his lips, you look around the room before spotting a rather unorthodox method of bondage: the Christmas lights.

You slide up the length of Yoongi’s torso, making sure to rub your wet panties against his skin and, he takes notice.

“Y/N are you wet? Is that for me?” He breathes and, throughout all of the teasing he’s endured, it’s at this moment that he looks the most uncomfortable. He frantically eyes the material of your underwear, looking helpless as you wrap the Christmas lights around his wrists. “Please, let me taste you.”

And to increase the torture, this is a punishment after all, you position yourself so that you’re hovering right over his wanton mouth, with your pussy just out of reach.

Yoongi’s brow furrows in agony as he sticks his tongue out, desperately trying to reach you.

“I have something else for you to taste.” You murmur and, lean over to his nightstand grabbing the bottle of Hibiki.

His dainty features turn up in curiosity as watches you unscrew the cap, his tongue licking over his lips yet again.

Scooting back down his body, you force him to remember how wet you are before tilting the top of the bottle towards your lips.

“Open your mouth…”

Once Yoongi realizes what you’re doing, he has to stop himself from blowing his load all over his hips so, he quickly obliges, parting his lips for you, staring up at you with pure unfiltered lust.

With a smirk on your lips, you take a swig of the liquor, before hovering over Yoongi’s awaiting mouth and, letting it trickle onto his tongue.

He drinks every last drop, a whimper lingering at the back of his throat, “You are so fucking hot.”

Jesus, this is really starting to escalate.

You lick your lips, collecting the remaining bit of liquid as your free hand tickles over his chest, “Am I? Hot enough to spit whiskey into your mouth?”

Yoongi leans up towards your lips, smirking darkly, whiskey on his breath, “Hot enough to spit in my mouth.”

His correction fuels the feral side of you which prompts you to use your thumb to part his lips, “Can I really spit in your mouth?”

Yoongi chuckles but, it’s in a very new, very animalistic kind of way, “How many times do I have to tell you?” He whispers against your lips, “You can do whatever the fuck you want to me…”

Adding insult to injury, Yoongi sticks his tongue out and, the glint in his eyes is different than you’ve ever seen before. You can tell his slipping but, you aren’t sure where...

Maybe he’s going deeper than he’s gone before.

As soon as you spit, you feel an aching in your core when he uses his tongue to trace the perimeter of his lips, spreading your saliva (and his) all over his mouth.

“How does it taste?” The question is softer as you thumb over his lips, allowing him a few kisses against it.

“Good,” He breathes, “just like the rest of you.”

With a kiss against his lips, you pull back glancing towards his nightstand.

“I want to try something new with you tonight.”

He’s all ears, watching you intently whilst you trade the bottle of whiskey for a bottle of lube.

Yoongi’s a perceptive man, he knows where your mind is headed and, he’d be lying if he said he isn’t intrigued.

“Have you ever had anything inside of you before?”

He shakes his head, “No.”

Setting the lube down on the bed, you lean down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Would you let me inside of you?”

His heart jumps beneath his sternum but, he doesn’t hesitate to nod.

“Yes.”

You kiss him again but, this time you let it linger for a moment before pulling back.

“What’s your safeword?”

A small is one his lips then, “Dragon.”

His smile is returned when you kiss the tip of his nose, “Good boy.”

You take your place between Yoongi’s legs, slowly coaxing them apart so, you’re able to see the entirety of him.

Given the fact that he’s been with Hoseok, it does surprise you a little bit that they never did anything like this.

But then again, maybe Yoongi wasn’t the one getting fucked...

You tell yourself to save those questions for another time to focus on the task at hand.

You’re careful to warm up the lube between your fingertips before barely brushing them over Yoongi’s entrance. His stomach muscles quiver as you do so, the sensation unfamiliar but, not unpleasant.

“I’m just going to touch you for a minute, I’ll walk you through everything ok?”

He nods, allowing his fingertips to curl into the palms of his currently restricted hands. He’s trusts you but, he’s nervous and, he’s worried his heart is about to beat right out of his chest.

Using two fingertips, you gently rub up his entrance and over the muscles beneath his balls. Pleasure begins swirling around Yoongi’s body, his legs spreading wider for you.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yeah...” He whispers, his hips jerking slightly as your fingers trail back down towards his ass. Another deep breath is pulled from his chest and, he tries to prepares himself for what’s to come.

He just wishes he knew what to expect.

Your finger circles his entrance, “I’m going to put one finger in, are you ready?”

He’s as ready as he can be...

Yoongi nods, pulling in a deep breath, trying his best not to tense up.

Taking your time, you begin pushing your index finger inside of him, working your way past the tightness of his muscles. You can hear his breath catch but, you don’t look at him just yet, you just focus on sliding your finger all the way inside of him.

The sensation isn’t unpleasant but, it’s definitely different than. anything Yoongi's ever felt before. It feels a little odd but if he’s being honest, he doesn’t really understand the hype behind it.

“Is that ok?” He hears you whisper

Craning his neck, he looks down at you, trying not to display how underwhelmed he is.

He’s still hard but, that’s because he was the most beautiful girl in the world between his legs. He’s hard for you under most circumstances.

“I’m ok.” He whispers back

You move your finger in and out of him for a moment, just to get his muscles to relax a little more before glancing up at him as you curl your finger upwards.

Yoongi’s eyes widen, his upper body lurching forward, “Wait...wait, what was that?”

A smirk is on your lips as you meet your boyfriend’s frantic gaze, “What was what?” You curl your finger again, tilting your head.

“That...” He chokes out, his wrists jolting in the Christmas lights, “Jagiya-” Yoongi’s panting now, his face still colored with disbelief, “What is that? What the fuck is that?”

You let your teeth find your bottom lip as you increase the pressure inside of him, the movement causing his dick to jump, “I’m not the only one with a g-spot baby. This,” You rub against the hardened flesh, “is yours.”

“Oh fuck-” Yoongi’s brow draws in as, he opens his mouth, his eyes frantically searching around the room as if he could find an explanation for how good it feels. “What the fuck? What the fuck? B-Baby...”

You brush your free hand over his hips, trailing your fingertips down the length of his dick, “Do you like it?”

Immediately, Yoongi nods as his legs spread wider for you, “It feels so good,” His eyes widened again as you increase your pace a little bit, “Y/N...what is that? What are you doing to me?”

He knows you’ve answered this question but, the pleasure is growing to an intensity he’s never known and, he has no idea what to do.

You don’t answer him, you know how he’s feeling. Sometimes pleasure is too much and, your brain goes a little haywire. Luckily for both of you, you love driving him crazy.

The pace inside of him remains steady whilst your lips begin kissing up the length of him causing Yoongi to whimper above you. It’s a hopeless and desperate sound, he knows he won’t last like this.

Not even if you asked him to.

And you know it too but, it doesn’t stop you from sucking him into your mouth anyway.

You aren’t concerned with punishment right now; you just want to make him cum so hard he cries.

With the coupled sensation of your mouth and your finger in his ass, Yoongi feels like he’s going insane.

He’s never felt this kind of pleasure before, its rotting him from the inside out and a type of devastation comes over him as he feels his orgasm approaching.

“Y/N...baby.” Yoongi’s beautiful eyes are welling up with tears, his cheeks flushed hot, his lips dry from how hard he’s breathing, “I can’t hold it like this, not with you inside of me.”

To fuck with him further, you just stare up at him and hollow your cheeks out around his length. Your tongue gets to work on his sweet spots and, your finger increases it’s speed.

“O-Oh...oh god, please, please can I cum? Can I cum please?”

He doesn’t even sound like himself, his voice is higher but raspier and, the look on his face is priceless.

He knows he’s fucked...

“Y/N please, I can’t hold it.” His face wrinkles with a mix of pleasure and pain and, his eyes are blown out once again when your pace only increases. “...I don’t want to disappoint you, please...”

But, you don’t stop.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum, I can’t hold it anymore. It feels so good please, please can I- oh fuck...”

Yoongi’s hips jolt and, you take great pleasure in watching his eyes roll back into his head whilst his mouth parts with a silent cry.

He makes no sound when the first rope of cum hits the back of your throat but, his trembling body speaks for him.

You don’t cease your motions the entire time and, Yoongi literally feels his brain melt as he cums in a way he’s never experienced before.

“Oh my god.” He whimpers finally, breaking the silence as his hips fuck feverishly into your mouth.

He knows he’s fucked up but, goddamn if he isn’t going to enjoy it.

“Y/N-” Yoongi chokes, his eyes coming back into focus as he stares longingly at you, “I love you, I’m so- ugh...” He moans as another wave of pleasure assaults his senses, “I’m so sorry...I couldn’t help it, it felt so fucking good.”

The darkness in your eyes remains and, you plan on milking his punishment for all it’s worth.

“Yeah? It just felt so good you couldn’t control yourself?” You coo, pressing one last kiss to his pulsating dick before moving to sit back on your knees.

He nods rapidly, on the verge of whimpering.

Slowly, you finally begin to remove your dress, feeling grateful that the material is finally free from your body.

Yoongi’s eyes are still blackened with arousal despite the fact he came moments earlier.

“Oh fuck...you’re so fucking pretty...”

He sees now that your bra matches your panties and, he swears he can feel himself getting hard again.

“You’re not the only one who’s had to wait you know.” You begin, teasing your fingers over your skin, moving your hands behind your back to unclasp your bra, “I’ve been waiting just as long as you have...longer actually-” You note, letting your bra fall from your body eliciting a groan from Yoongi, “and you know how wet I get when I tease you baby.”

He nods, licking his lips his wrists tugging in their ties, “I know, I know I’m so sorry...but you wouldn’t stop. I-” Yoongi stops himself as you brows raise and, he realizes that blaming you is not a good option.

“Oh so it’s my fault then? I made you cum without permission?”

You did.

You know you did but, it’s fun to make him grovel anyway.

“I should have held it but, I couldn’t...” He tugs at his ties again, wishing desperately that he could touch you, “It felt so good, I didn’t know it would feel that good.”

“Hmm...” You muse before crawling up his body, allowing him once again to feel how wet you are, “Do you feel how wet I am?” You coo against his lips, “My pussy hurts Yoongi.”

Yoongi’s eyes are pleading with you, his lips sloppily kissing at yours, “Let me make it better, if you let me out I’ll make you cum all night. Let me show you how sorry I am.”

Your mouth is open against his but, you let his lips kiss all over you, “But I told you I wouldn’t fuck you for a month if you disobeyed me didn’t I?”

Yoongi feels tears prick at the corner of his eyes, nearly losing it at the thought of being without this for a month, “No no no, baby please...please don’t do that to me.” He croaks but, for whatever reason his dick is twitching to life between his legs; why is this turning him on so much? “Don’t break my heart like that...I couldn’t handle it.”

“No?” You smirk, nudging his nose, “Would you beg for me if I did?”

He nods, “Yes...any chance you gave me.”

“Why? Is it cause you can’t live without it?” You’re cooing against his lips but, slowly making your way back.

“I can’t, I really can’t.”

“No? You can’t live without my pussy?”

“I can’t live without you, I’m so addicted...”

He watches you with a needy gaze as you straddle his hips, your wet panties causing his dick to twitch once again.

“Addicted huh?” You tsk, keeping eye contact with him while you slip off your panties, “That doesn’t sound good...”

“Oh but it is...” All of the teasing and pleasure is starting to send Yoongi back to that euphoric state and, he’s quite sure if he feels you on him right now, he’ll loose his mind, “it’s so good.”

“I’m aching Yoongi,” You remind him, rolling your wet folds against up his dick, his eyes widening as you do, “can you fix it?”

“Yes, fuck...”Yoongi’s fingers feel like they are going numb beneath the lights but, he doesn’t care, all he cares about is your pleasure, “please, use me. Use my dick, I won’t even cum baby, I just want to see you feel good.”

You’re positioning his dick against your entrance but, his answer surprises you, “Is that right? You’d let me fuck you just for me?”

“Yes, whatever you want, I’m yours to use...I want you to cum so bad.”

“And why is that?”

Yoongi’s eyes lock with yours, “Because I love you.”

Fuck this.

You sink down on him immediately, wasting no time at setting the pace you know the two of you like: deep and fast.

Bending over, your hips continue their movements whilst you find Yoongi’s lips again, pulling him into a wet kiss, “You love me huh?”

“Mhm...” With his face drawn in with ecstasy, he whimpers against your lips, “I love you so fucking much...you’re so beautiful. You’re so beautiful like this, taking me...you’re taking what's yours.”

“Are you mine?” Your voice is growing higher too because, with how wet and aroused you are, you know this won’t last long and, you need to hear the words that will send you over the edge.

“I’m yours.”

Your hips are bouncing up and down at an increasing speed and, what your movements lack in finesse they make up for with enthusiasm.

“Yoongi...” You’re whimpering now, his dick is curving up just right.

“Are you close beautiful? Are you gonna cum on me?”

“Cum...cum with me...” You urge him and, he feels relief watch over him that you’re going to let him finish too.

He’s nodding, kissing at your lips, fucking up into as best as he can, “I will but, let me see you babygirl, wet my dick, c’mon you’re so close yeah? I can feel how t-tight you are, come get what you deserve...”

You’re choking on a moan, moving away from your previous role because, with Yoongi talking to you like this, it isn’t about power exchanges anymore, it’s about love.

“I love you...”

It’s the last phrase you mutter before you reach your high, Yoongi following soon after you.

It’s intense enough to bring the two of you to tears and as you begin to come down, you notice the dreamy look in your boyfriends eyes.

“Hey...” You coo, thumbing his cheek, tilting his head up, “are you still with me?”

He sniffles, tears staining his cheeks as he presses against your hand, “Mhm.” Yoongi looks uneasy suddenly as he eyes his restraints, “Can I come out now? I need you.”

Your heart melts at his request and, you're quick to get his hands out of the Christmas lights, smoothing over the redness on his wrists before laying beside him.

Immediately, he cuddles up to you, burying his face into your chest, breathing you in as if there is something soothing in your scent.

“You did so good for me angel...” You speak softly into his hair, pressing kisses against his head, “Do you feel good?”

All he does his nod, his mouth latching onto any bit of skin he can reach, his body growing small in your arms.

“You are my goddess, my everything...”

Yoongi does this from time to time and, you’ve come to respect that it’s his way of expressing himself during intense moments.

He always promises that one day he will tell you what he says but, you don’t push him, you just let him have his moment and, feel the love within his tone.

Because love transcends language doesn’t it?

“I want to spend my life with you, forever and ever...and ever. You are so beautiful, you make me feel so beautiful...”

You smile, kissing his forehead as your freehand pulls a blanket over the two of you.

“Would you marry me if I asked? If I got down on knee and, humbly requested that you be my bride? Have I earned such a privilege? I know it isn’t time yet but, one day it could be no? It could be time...Min Y/N...” He smiles brilliantly beneath your neck, kissing the skin there before continuing.

“I like the sound of that.”

Outside the door, you hear the party goers beginning to countdown to midnight.

You missed the party but, you didn’t care.

As you tilt Yoongi’s face up to yours, you smile at the only man you’ve ever loved, “3....2...1...”

“Happy new year...” He whispers, returning your smiling before leaning up and, capturing your lips in a kiss.

Happy New Year indeed.

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unioncolours · 4 years

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Yamanaka Week Day 6: Fanfiction 💗🌺

@yamanaka-week Day 6, prompt: espionage

Fanfiction: The best spy there ever was.

Length: 1,5k

Genre: Fluff and cute

⚔ My AO3 username is Majsasaurus

Read below ⬇💜

The best spy there ever was

Shikadai crossed his arms over his stomach and stared at Inojin with an grimace of irritation smacked on his face.

“You are stupid”, he said, face scrunching together in a way he only did when he was turning more and more angry.

Inojin stared back at him with a little wrinkle between his brows.

“No, I’m not”, he retorted. “You are just scared we’ll get caught.”

The two boys were crouching behind the corner of the house of the Yamanaka residence. They were at the backside of the house, in the protection among shadows and bushes, the part of the garden Ino referred as ‘the hopeless part’. The hopeless part of the garden was filled with nettles and weed, ready to be ripped out of the soil, but neither Ino nor Sai had had time for gardening that part of their garden. They liked to put their focus on the front yard, on the rose bushes and myriad of colourful flowers that needed their care and attention, instead of the weed and shadowy part.

It was the perfect hiding place for two six-year-old spies.

Or ‘spies’. This title was exactly the root of the disagreement between the boys.

“Your Mom is a psychic ninja”, Shikadai said, intending to serve waterproof arguments. “She will catch us immediately. And it’s not fun to play if we can’t win.”

Inojin puffed out his cheeks.

“You are the worst spy I’ve ever seen”, he said, poking a needle in Shikadai’s ego. “And you fail as a shinobi. Shinobi do not give up.”

“I don’t fail”, Shikadai said.

“Then prove it”, Inojin shot back and the wrinkle between his eyebrows had grew in size, because now he was irritated at his friend for not sharing his ambitious plan. Who cared if ‘Mom was a psychic ninja’, when he was the best spy there ever was and could well sneak up behind her?

“Okay”, Shikadai said, took a step forward and a stringy leaf of a nettle stroked by his exposed calf. He winced at the sudden pain and seemed to grow more insecure at the reminder he was not as big and powerful as he maybe wanted to think. “But only up until nap time, okay? I’m tired.”

Inojin smiled at him, knowing that ‘I’m tired’ was Shikadai’s way of saying he was unsure what to do.

“Follow me”, Inojin said, bent down on all four, and began crawling around the corner, towards the front part of the garden. The unaware parents, who were having a nice time taking care of the flowers, were blissfully unaware two dangerous spies made their way towards them.

Sai and Ino had just finished plucking away the bad leaves and dried out branches of some of their parade bushes by the road, the first thing visitors see when they curve down the road past the flower shop and see the house the family lived in. These bushes had beautiful roses; blue to their colour, Ino’s pride after cultivating generations of bushes, slowly getting the petals into a beautiful blue shade from the white she had started from.

Sai meant the colour is the same as Ino’s eyes, Ino claimed they are more like Inojin’s eyes, which are a shade greener than her own.

They looked over their craft, fingers a bit sore after thorns had penetrated through the gardening gloves and poked their skins, but they felt satisfied by the result.

And they were not deaf either. Inojin was still unaware to which degree his voice could rise when he was in a disagreement, and disagreements with Shikadai were never settled with low voices.

The two spies made their way over cobble stone placed into grass, through bushes and heaps of flowers and a around a little man-made pond. Ino’s mother had made that pond together with Inoichi years and years back. Inojin liked to complain over the lack of koi fish in the pond, but Ino took his complaints with grain of salt, since Inojin wasn’t just appreciating the frogs which lived there.

“Let’s go behind this bush”, Inojin suggested and pointed towards the bush closest to his parents.

“No way!” Shikadai disagreed, mouth in frown. “We need to attack from multiple different angles.”

“But we are only two”, Inojin said and shoved two fingers close to Shikadai’s face. “We strike were we are strongest – together!”

“We would need Chocho, that’s when we are strongest”, Shikadai complained, thinking about the gymnastics they were training together. Since they were still so small and largely were unable to exploit chakra, they practised gymnastics to better their skills in motoric, coordination and strength. But Inojin wasn’t listening to his whining today and grabbed Shikadai’s arm, manhandling him closer to the bush of Inojin’s choice.

“No”, Inojin said. “We are strong on our own. Let’s find out what they are talking about.”

Sai turned to look at Ino when the boys came closer.

“What are we going to talk about?”

Ino smirked.

“Let’s talk about the medicine we are going to give Inojin.” There was no medicine in question. Ino was just going to tease her son. They were well aware of where the boys were, and they were not particularly had to spot either. Shikadai’s fluffy, black ponytail was sticking up above the top part of the bush – he had to be sitting on his knees, while Inojin’s feet were visible from the side, probably sitting on his bum, leaning against one of his hands.

“Let’s spy on them”, Inojin said again and the boys fell silent, listening eagerly.

“Well, Sai”, Ino said loudly, almost as in overacting. “When Inojin is done playing with Shikadai we’ll give him his medicine.”

Sai stared at Ino, eyes begging her to please do not make me play in an act, I don’t know how and Ino took his hand.

“He was coughing this morning, wasn’t he?” Ino asked. “Then it’s best to give him his cough medicine, you know, the one that tastes really bad.”

Inojin stared at Shikadai, who stared back in mutual mortification. Medicine time. The worst nightmare of a six-year-old.

“Oh no”, Shikadai whispered.

“I don’t wanna”, Inojin whined back.

“Let’s not give away our position”, Shikadai said when Inojin raised his voice.

“But I don’t wanna take medicine, it was a single cough because I got dust in my nose”, Inojin said.

“That was a sneeze.”

“You don’t understand!” Inojin yelled back. “They’ll give me medicine!”

Ino and Sai stood on the other side of the bush, snickering a bit to their son’s panic. He had grown up sheltered in cotton, protected from the dangers of the outer world, their little sunshine boy, so a once in a while scare would only do him good.

“Inojin”, Ino finally said. “I know you are there. You can come out. We won’t give you medicine. Mommy and Daddy were just teasing you.”

Inojin sprang to his feet and stumbled around the bush into his mother’s arms.

“Moo-o-om”, he whined against her stomach as his big crocodile tears fell down his cheek. “I don’t wanna take medicine.”

“Oh, by little boy, you don’t have to, Mommy just teased you”, Ino said. “We heard you were a spy, so we gave you a little lead to listen to.”

“And we were the worst spies ever!” Shikadai added, peeking out from the bush. “Next time we need to do my tactic.”

“You always want us to do your tactic”, Inojin muttered against Ino’s hip.

Ino smiled to him.

“Come on, little one”, she said. “It’s okay, you don’t have to take medicine.”

“It was dusty”, Inojin pouted. “I coughed because it was dusty.”

Ino looked over at Sai.

“Sounds like a good reason to vacuum, doesn’t it, darling?” she asked and raised her eyebrows in a meaningful way. “Right?”

“Yes, yes”, Sai said in defeat. “Inojin, go back and play now. You were a fantastic spy. Soon enough you can be a shinobi too, and then you’ll be the best spy there ever is.”

Inojin looked at him with big, blue eyes.

“Really?”

“Really”, Sai said. “I am sure you will surpass us both when you are big and strong.”

Inojin almost blushed.

Ino and Sai went back inside, to vacuum clean and to begin prepping for lunch. Shikadai was going to stay at theirs for the whole evening, so they had a second child to entertain for the evening. Entertaining Shikadai was never an issue, so they didn’t fret and happily left the two boys in the garden.

“They were fooling us”, Shikadai said.

“I know”, Inojin said. His tears from the abrupt emotional tantrum at the fear of getting medicine had tried in an instant, just as the tantrum had faded away. “What should we do now?”

Shikadai mulled for a while.

“Continue spying?”

“Yes!”

The two boys hurried inside, not having learned their mistakes.

There was a dinner to supervise and parents to stalk. And who knew, maybe they would get to learn actual secrets this time?

Little did they know of the future far off beyond the horizon, when they would spy in dangerous temples, when they would slay enemies and lose faith in the world as chaos and war would reign around them. Little did they know.

And now, there was no time to think of such times.

Now they were the greatest spies there ever were.

#yamanakaweek2021 #yamanakaweek #inojin yamanaka #saiino #shikadai nara #fanfiction

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candychronicles · 4 years

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unrequited love, or not? // k. bakugou

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this, and thank you for being so patient!

CHARACTER PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,668

WARNINGS: mentions of being drunk, blood, mutual pining, dumb best friends

SYNOPSIS: you’ve been best friends since you could remember, but what if you wanted more?

the first day you met Bakugou Katsuki was on the first day of school, ever. you were bubbly, upbeat, someone who introduced yourself to everyone and made as many friends as possible. nothing could get you down, well, besides Bakugou. despite your best attempts, he was mean, sassy and definitely didn’t want to be your friend. for awhile, you resigned yourself to all your other friends, but the grumpy gremlin never left your brain.

over the following years, you slowly broke down the anger and superiority of his childhood, peeling back the layers to find a kid who wanted to save lives and be a hero, a kid who used his confidence to keep himself going against all odds. it wasn’t until your years at UA high that you really figured out who he was to you, but by then, things were too late, him being too focused on climbing to the top to even spare anything other than a friendly glance your way.

it wasn’t as if he ignored you. in some ways, that may have even been better, for you would’ve been able to push aside your feelings, but no, Bakugou was anything if not an attentive friend. he was one of the few people you trusted with your life, and vice versa. he came to you for everything, with everything, about everything, because you were his partner, his best friend. this closeness only complicated things, but you persevered, determined to be the greatest sidekick you could be to him.

your friendship wasn’t one that many people understood. while you were bright, extroverted, smiling brighter than the sun, moon and stars, he was grumpy, reserved, focused, but it worked. he called you annoying every day, and yet you two were inseparable, eating together, doing homework together, shopping, spending holidays together and taking selfies that, when you posted, he threatened to blow you up.

you watched as he blew every challenge out of the water, both literally and figuratively. from every challenge that came in high school, all of the death and destruction that you two fought together, coming out on top despite the pain, and continuing to help save people as he became a sensationalized pro hero practically overnight.

despite his constant successes, he wasn’t the number one pro hero, and until he achieved, and consistently maintained, his biggest goal of his life, there would be no other priorities in his life. you slowly watched, year after year, as he worked tirelessly, throwing away other opportunities in order to continue to pursue his goal. it wasn’t until you confronted him casually one day that your worst suspicions were confirmed.

“Katsuki, why haven’t you ever dated someone?” you questioned not so innocently one day, waiting with baited breath to hear his answer.

“Becoming the number one pro-hero has and always will be my number one priority,” he replied casually, shrugging his shoulders and continuing on with eating like he didn’t just shatter your heart into a million shards.

little did you know, his heart was also breaking, threatening to rip his chest open from the inside, suffocating and strong. he liked you, loved you, for longer than he could remember, but he was sure you didn’t feel the same way. he thought that every lingering touch, every suffocating hug, every time you called him when you were sad and drowning in tears, begging him to make you feel better, was just you being a best friend, nothing less and nothing more.

you became a bit more distant after that, nursing your hemorrhaging heart, attempting to fix it back up, using any stitch or glue that you could find so that you wouldn’t bleed out. this need to not hurt led you to a very drunk night with Mina and Jirou. it started off innocent enough, but as the night drug on and the alcohol tickled your veins, your blood began to thin and pour out of your mangled heart, and the tears followed soon after.

“why did i have to fall for him? he doesn’t love me, he never will. i’ll have to sit back and watch him continue on with his life, blissfully u-unaware that there is someone here who loves him so much that it hurts. i’m so dumb, so so dumb,” you rambled on, liquid pain streaming down your face as you cuddled a bottle of wine.

the girls tried to console you as best as they could, snuggling deeply into you and rubbing your hair, wiping the tears off your face and assuring you that you were loved, before you promptly passed out, the bottle of booze replaced with a pillow that you clutched tightly to your chest, attempting, even in your sleep, to fix the ache in your heart.

you awoke with a pounding headache and a steely resolve to distance yourself from your best friend even more than you already were. while you knew it would hurt, nothing could compare to the emptiness you felt standing next to him knowing he didn’t feel the same way. texts were replied to hours later, calls missed, and you once even pretended you weren’t home when he stopped by randomly to check up on you.

Bakugou didn’t know what he did wrong, and it was eating him alive. he texted, he called, he even tried to break down your door, knowing you were home, but you still barely responded, claiming you were busy. never in your combined friendship had you went this long without talking, even when you were truly mad at each other.

the lack of communication took a toll on Bakugou and he finally decided to confront Mina about it one day, despite not wanting to look desperate.

“why has she been avoiding me?” he asked the second she picked up the phone, not bothering to even say hi.

he heard a soft sigh on her end of the phone before she replied, “i’m not supposed to tell you.”

“bullshit. if she’s hurt, mentally or physically, she should be coming to me. i’m her fucking best friend.”

“and that’s the problem,” she replied cryptically.

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean? does she not want to be my friend anymore?”

“well, yes and no.”

he swore, at those four words, his heart stopped.

“if she doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore, then she needs to man up and tell me. i don’t have time to waste on cryptic shit. i’ve got more important things to do.”

“and that’s the problem!” she suddenly exploded, before replying more evenly, “all you care about is being the number one pro hero to even see what’s going on in front of your very eyes. someone cares about you very, very much, probably more than your shitty ass deserves, and you can’t even return those feelings because you can’t and won’t prioritize more than one thing in your life.”

Bakugou hung up on her after those words, immediately calling you, to no avail. he grabbed a jacket and some shoes and raced out of the door, heading towards your house with nerves of steel.

how stupid could i be? does she really feel the same way?

once he reached your house, he barged in, not even bothering to announce his presence as he headed towards the kitchen.

you appeared out of nowhere, alert and ready for anything, before relaxing your body, though there was still tension squaring your shoulders back.

“what the hell are you doing here?” you asked, confusion and a little bit of anger tinging your voice.

“do you love me?”

you quirked your head at him, face heating up in embarrassment, not sure how to respond.

“are you ignoring me because you love me and you don’t think that i love you back? are you so dumb to think that if you confessed to me right now, that i would reject you?”

your mouth gaped open and closed, unsure of how to take his questions, so you nodded meekly back, before responding, “you told me that being the number one pro hero was your number one priority-”

“my number one priority right now, sure, but that doesn’t mean you’re also not one of my priorities in my life. sometimes you’re even my number one. i don’t spend all my time with you, tell you everything, help you with everything, just because you’re just one of my ‘friends’. you’re my other half, you idiot. will you go out with me?”

your head cocked side to side, mouth still open, attempting to process his words, all the information that he had just thrown at you like it was nothing. he liked you? he wanted to go out with you?

“the question isn’t that hard. you also look like a fish. close your mouth and just tell me how you feel, how i know you feel now, so i can kiss your dumb face.”

at those teasing words, your face broke out in a smile before you rushed forward to capture his lips in your own, pouring all of that pent up pain and sadness into the kiss, allowing your heart to finally stitch together.

“you’re such an idiot. of course i like you, and of course i’ll date you. i’ve loved you for a long time, maybe even since you were a snotty nosed little brat, but not much has changed since then,” you teased, eyes twinkling in mischief.

“hey, just because you’re dating me doesn’t mean i still won’t kick your ass for being rude.”

“catch me if you can lover boy,” you called out, leaping away from him and into the kitchen laughing.

he shook his head, finally allowing himself a moment to breathe, feeling the heat rise into his cheeks and his blood pumping throughout his body, before he called out threateningly and began chasing after you around.

i’m in love with my best friend.

maybe being number one pro hero wasn’t the number one priority in his life anymore.

TAGS: @jojosmilktea @redbeanteax @softforshigi @katsuki-bakugous-lady @katsukisprincess @secondhand-trash

Want to be a part of my taglist? Message me!

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha

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willcwthewisp · 3 years

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spirited away | eddie & willow

TIMING: before mother’s day. LOCATION: willow’s apartment. PARTIES: @specterchasing and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: eddie goes on a medium-driven chore, but gets medium uno reversed. also the spiderman meme except it’s mediums.

Willow sighed as she lowered her paint brush, feeling that familiar nagging sensation tingling in her neck that came whenever a portrait wasn’t quite right. It looked fine— lovely, even. But there was simply something amiss that the ghost in question hadn’t approved of, and she’d lost the snippets he was saying to her quite some time ago, as if his words had flitted out her open wind on the breeze. Oh well. The piece would be a nice one to sell, and there still might be a person who recognized what it was that she’d painted. There’d been quite a few instances of people coming forward, asking questions about certain pieces she’d done that looked far too similar to their memories of loved ones, or scenes of their youth. That was generally when she passed the painting off to her brother, a medium and exorcist who was much better equipped to deal with the ghost of the painting, and the loved one that came along with it.

It almost came as a relief when she heard a knock at her door. Almost. Rising from her place at the easel in her art room, she peered through the peephole of the door only to be met with the face of someone she’d never seen before. “Ah- sorry, can I help you?” she began nervously, already thinking of the disaster that could strike if she ended up having to open the door. She didn’t have any interest in causing a hospital visit today. Or any day for that matter. Maybe she should request to be moved to the first floor of her complex. Then it’d be a little less worrisome when it came to potentially throwing people across the hallway.

Eddie had some reservations about showing up to a stranger’s house unannounced, but they were outweighed by curiosity and a sense of duty. The ghosts made Willow out to be someone like him. In all of Eddie’s years in White Crest, he’d never had the opportunity to meet someone else who could interact with the dead. Admittedly, it seemed like she had a knack for ignoring them and that didn’t sit well with him, but he tried to reserve judgement until there was proof beyond the claims of a few disgruntled apparitions.

“Yeah, so, hey,” he said, eyes locked onto the peephole. It struck him as odd that she didn’t open the door, but they lived in White Crest, after all. Being careful saved lives. “I know you don’t know me and this is probably wicked weird for you, but I’ve got a message from a, uh, mutual friend that they’d really like you to hear. It’s a little private, so I’d feel a little more comfortable giving it to you in… well, private. You wanna open the door for me?” He thought about reassuring her that he wasn’t some kind of bloodlust-y murderer, but realized that would only make him seem more dangerous.

Willow’s fingers tapped nervously against the door, still looking through the peephole and reminding herself that this man couldn’t see her in return despite the eye contact he made. “A mutual friend?” she echoed, the phrase throwing her. She’d purposefully distanced herself from the bulk of her friends ever since this whole sporadically throwing people problem had come to her attention, and she hadn’t had all that many to begin with. It was a choice of her own, never having been someone to seek out the company of too many people. Willow had been more than happy with that before her telekinesis had made any company dangerous. Now she relied on the people she called at her telemarketing gig to remind herself she was alive. It wasn’t all that helpful when they were yelling half the time.

The ability to say ‘no’ was another of her shortcomings, and Willow walked a few paces back and forth as the man asked to be let in. Going back to the door, she glanced at him once more through the peephole. “I...okay- alright. But just- don’t come too close, okay?” If she could keep a table between him and her, things should be alright. Without further delay, she was opening the door to reveal the interior of her apartment, already taking a few careful steps away from the man.

When Eddie’s question was met with a few long moments of silence, he half-expected his venture to be rendered fruitless. He couldn’t find it in himself to blame Willow for not trusting him, but he did wonder where her sense of adventure was. If a stranger came knocking on his door with the promise of a vague message, they wouldn’t have been able to finish their sentence before he welcomed them in.

Just as he turned away from the door, she finally spoke up. A warning. “No problems there, I’m a big fan of boundaries,” he enthused as the door opened. Willow seemed even more skittish than the average White Crestian as she put ample space between them. Eddie decided not to let it bother him—she likely had her reasons.

“Okay, so, the friend in question is a little on the dead side,” he explained carefully as he stepped into the apartment. “Actually, there’s a few dead friends. Is that… like, is that unusual for you, having dead friends?” As accustomed as he was to having conversations with ghosts, he knew that wasn’t exactly normal. His parents made that perfectly clear to him. If Willow wasn’t as much like him as he hoped she was, he needed to ease her into the subject matter.

“Great- good, that’s good,” Willow babbled nervously as she did exactly as she’d planned, skirting around to the other side of the table that was in her kitchen while Eddie spoke. But the mention of dead friends was more than enough to catch her interest, and in a reflexive move she looked over to the chair that Kal often loved to frequent. He was the ghost she heard most reliably, and currently her best friend seeing as she’d banned herself to as much isolation as possible. Unfortunately she wasn’t entirely sure whether or not he was here at the moment, her focus pulled away from any attempts to perceive him by the stranger in her apartment.

Thankfully, Kal had no problem speaking for himself. The ghost had already taken up a spot at Willow’s shoulder the moment Eddie had stepped into the apartment, feeling rather protective after the last stranger to enter Willow’s abode had left her tired and crying. “What do you want?” the ghost asked the man reflexively, not actually expecting an answer from one of the living. That was- until he recognized the familiar aura of what Eddie was. “Oh shit- you’re a medium, too?”

Willow, still blissfully unaware of the guardian ghost asking questions on her behalf, was doing her best to play it close to the chest. She wasn’t entirely all that private about mediums and their abilities, but it wasn’t exactly the best idea to lead with ‘occasionally I see and hear dead people.’ “Um- do you have dead friends?” she asked, unable to come up with any better reply while being entirely oblivious of that fact that Kal had already given her away.

Willow’s babbling and general nervousness faded into the background the moment Eddie laid eyes on Kal. “I am!” he announced, eyes glistening with pride before finally prying them away to look at Willow. “Looks like we both do,” he said with a wide grin. Hope had taken hold of him before he reached Willow’s apartment, and now he knew it wasn’t in vain. Finally, he knew someone like him; someone he wouldn’t have to hide from, not that he usually did such a good job with keeping secrets. Eddie didn’t know how to be anything except himself, but he thought it might be nice to have someone in his life who didn’t look at him like he was speaking in tongues when he talked about the dead.

“You don’t have to hide anything from me, I’m just like you,” he told Willow. He thought it was a little strange that she apparently hadn’t heard the ghost out her, but maybe she was just playing it cool until she knew she could trust him. “Okay, maybe not just like you, but we’ve got a pretty cool common denominator.”

Eddie took a moment to center himself. Amidst the excitement, he nearly forgot what he came here for. He looked back to Kal. “I’m just here to talk to her about her paintings, nothing weird, I promise.” Again, his eyes switched their focus to Willow. “See, some of our dead friends aren’t exactly happy with how they’re being portrayed, and they’ve been very adamant that I bring the issue up to you.”

Willow almost jumped at the stranger’s exuberance, momentarily confused while he replied to Kal. She still couldn’t hear the ghost, her mind moving far too fast at the moment for it to slow down enough to listen to her ‘dead friend.’ “Like me?” she repeated the words skeptically until he began speaking to Kal once again. “So you’re a medium?” Kal put his hands up as if trying to stop Eddie’s words before he could get them out...to little avail. “Hold on- don’t say that!” Willow’s paintings were one of the few, free joys the woman had left in the world, and he wasn’t too keen on seeing whatever reaction she might have in response to the other medium’s claims.

But the words had been said, and Willow’s lips had already turned downwards into the beginning of a frown, looking towards the door of her art room and then back to Eddie. “They don’t like them?” Did they want her to stop? She’d always loved painting the stories she heard from the ghosts, even if some of them were sadder than the rest. Those were the paintings she also gave to her brother, the ones that had such miserable stories attached to them. Surely all ghosts deserved to move on if that’s what they wanted, but the ones that could only focus on their pain...that could only give Willow the traumatic stories of their demise, those were the ones that needed it the most. “I mean...I know my pictures aren’t perfect to what they remember but…” she trailed off with uncertainty, not entirely sure where that sentence had been going.

Kal’s warning went unfortunately unheeded, and Eddie only realized its importance once he saw the frown on Willow’s face. Her second question dampened his initial excitement. He didn’t know how important her paintings were to her, but it already sounded like he wounded her pride. So much for making friends.

“Well, I didn’t say that,” he quickly backtracked. “I’m sure they really appreciate the time and effort you put into memorializing them—I know I would.” Eddie spent more time than he cared to admit wondering about his own demise and what would follow it; how he’d be remembered. If someone cared enough to put his final moments on canvas, he couldn’t imagine being anything other than grateful. “Really, they just have a few minor critiques. You know ghosts, they can be a little picky.” He shot Kal an apologetic glance. “I know how hard it can be to feel the pressure of someone’s last wishes on your shoulders, it makes you really wanna do right by them, but there’s no way to do it perfectly every time, y’know? And only a few have come to me, so I bet you’re actually doing a really great job overall.”

The stranger was sure of the dead’s gratitude because the ghosts had said as much to him? Or was it because he assumed such a thing? “Did they...tell you that?” Willow asked tentatively, hoping that the answer might be yes. She didn’t paint solely for the ghosts, but it’d be nice to know that they got some enjoyment out of it as well. She’d always thought they liked having their stories listened to, being given a moment to relay something important of their life and seeing it painted before their very eyes. Still standing behind Willow was Kal, nodding his head emphatically as if he could provide the answer for Eddie, or at least signal the other man into giving a good one.

The mention of ghosts being less than fond of her paintings was awkward enough, but now came the part where Willow had to tell this man that she actually wasn’t all that familiar with working for the dead, at least not in the way most mediums were. She wasn’t as self-conscious about her lack of abilities when it came to her family, having accepted long ago that she was different, and actually being somewhat grateful for the fact that she’d gotten to live a life of her own rather than one ruled by the departed. But when such an admission was being made to another medium that wasn’t related to her...well, it was nerve wracking to say the least. “Ah- well- about that. I don’t actually see and hear them all that well. Just sometimes. Not like the rest of my family or most mediums or whatever.” The last of his words had another semi-hopeful spark entering her eyes. “Really? You think so? Do you know which paintings the ones that have come to you are upset about?”

Seeing Kal’s emphatic nodding convinced Eddie to mirror the action. “Yeah, of course,” he said. In truth, they were usually more concerned with their grievances than what they enjoyed about Willow’s work, but Eddie felt like her spirit had been crushed enough for one evening. If she needed to hear a white lie to keep her self-esteem from folding in on itself, he would more than happily oblige.

“Oh,” Eddie uttered upon hearing her confession, more interested in learning that her family shared her gift than anything else. He wondered what that must be like—to be surrounded by people that understood you. Mild jealousy flared in his gut. He thought he’d met someone like him, but instead it seemed to inhabit two completely different worlds. “At least you have people in your life who can help translate,” he offered, smiling sadly in spite of himself.

Willow’s follow-up question pulled him out of his self-pity. “Yeah, one sec.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and opened the notes app. “George, the guy who died in a house fire, he said his eyes weren’t that close together. Shelly, the elderly woman who died of natural causes, says that you got her bedroom all wrong—she can’t stand your choice of wallpaper. And, um, Andrea, killed by some kind of demonic moose, would like it if you painted her with a little more dignity. She swears she didn’t go out screaming.” Eddie looked up from his phone to see how much damage their criticism had done. “See? Not so bad, just… little things.”

“Really?” Willow asked again, rather smitten with the thought that the ghosts might like her work. Sure, the person she painted most for was herself but...it was still nice to hear that people had enjoyed your work— especially when they were the inspiration. “Well then...I’m glad they like it.” The very beginnings of a smile had taken to the corners of Willow’s lips, looking the most relaxed she had since this conversation began.

But that smile quickly turned to concern as Eddie spoke. He didn’t have anyone with him? How had he learned about the world of ghosts in the first place? “You parents...they can’t sense ghosts?” Willow supposed the ability didn’t have to run in families, but she was rather biased when she’d been raised in a family full of spirit-sensing humans. “Well you know- if you ever needed someone to help you translate I’m sure anyone in my family would be happy to. Especially my mom or brother.” It’d been some ten minutes of knowing the man after he’d shown up unaccounted at her door, and she was already offering him access to her family. This was probably what some of her more cynical friends were talking about when they said her kindness would get her hurt.

Willow listened carefully to his requests, trying to memorize them all before she realized she’d most likely forget. “Do you think you could send the list to me? I could give you my number.” Then he’d also have it if he had any ghost questions, and was too nervous to ask how to contact her in the future. Going over what she remembered from his list, her lips pursed ever so slightly as she thought of the paintings in question. She couldn’t be sure, but this seemed more like an issue of vanity rather than her skill. Except for the wallpaper one. She often filled in the lesser details of paintings that ghosts didn’t bother to outline with her own artistic license. “Yeah- not too big.” Now that it was clear it was more the ghost’s problem than her’s, she was somewhere closer to being set at ease.

At the sight of Willow’s sort-of-smile, Eddie grinned from ear-to-ear. It felt like he managed to do something right. “Yeah, me too,” he enthused. He didn’t know Willow well, or at all really, but he already had a sense she might need the validation. Eddie couldn’t blame her, he had a lot in common with Tinker Bell, himself. When the applause stopped, so did his heart. Considering that, he realized he might have been projecting, but doing so in this instance seemed harmless enough.

The smile dropped as quickly as it disappeared, giving Eddie a taste of emotional whiplash. Willow seemed concerned about him, he didn’t intend for that, but her offer struck him right in the heart. “I don’t really wanna bother anyone,” he said politely while every fiber of his being revolted against his ill-timed manners. “But, I mean, if they… if they would be happy to help, like you said, it’d probably be better for everyone if I took you up on that, right? Who wants an uneducated medium running around solo?” He shrugged while his heart beat wildly in his chest. Finally, people who would understand him. Eddie’s throat tightened as he considered the possibilities.

“Oh, yeah, no problem!” Eddie brandished phone and closed the distance between Willow and himself with little regard for how intentionally she’d cultivated it. “Here you go,” he said amicably as he offered the device to her.

Oh! The younger man looked very nice when he smiled, like he didn’t have a single intention to hurt anyone that lived in this world. The change in his demeanor had her mirroring it instinctually, and her own smile grew bigger— as if they were stuck in a feedback loop of grins. While he began to speak of being a bother, Willow’s head was already shaking in a fierce denial of the concept, not willing to let him disparage himself in her presence. “You’re not! I’m the one who offered, anyway! And I mean- it’s always nice to have more ghost friends, isn’t it?” Friends were the last thing she needed while she was a literal flight risk in the sense of sending those around her sailing via telekinesis. But she couldn’t just let him fumble in this strange world by himself. “Perfect, then! I could put you into contact with my brother first! He’s the most involved with all the spiritual stuff- he’s actually an exorcist in addition to his mediumship.” If this young man latched onto her brother, Forest, there was also less risk of him coming around Willow to get hurt.

Gingerly accepting his phone while being careful to avoid any contact, Willow tapped her number into the contacts, adding her name to the entry. Oh, right- she hadn’t actually introduced herself quite yet. “I’m Willow, by the way. Willow Finch.” She made no inclination to offer a hand for shaking, still avoiding physical contact at all costs.

The moment Willow uttered the words ‘ghost friends’, Eddie felt a rush of unexpected affection. His entire life, most people either completely denied the existence of ghosts or spoke poorly of them. For a moment, Eddie struggled to find the right words to say, an unheard of predicament for him. “Sorry,” he said with a laugh. “It’s just—you ever hear something that sounds too good to be true? I’m waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me.” Not only did her family have mediums, it had exorcists. He wondered if she knew how lucky she was.

Eddie watched as she entered her phone number, half-expecting it to begin with 555. “Oh, right, I kinda did walk into your home without telling you who I am, didn’t I?” It wouldn’t be the first time he disregarded common courtesy and overstepped boundaries, and it likely wouldn’t be the last either. “The ghosts told me your name, but I’m Eddie, Eddie Carridine. It’s awesome to meet you, Willow Finch.”

Willow’s heart already ached for him, recognizing a loneliness in his words that she knew intimately these days. Perhaps their situations of isolation were from different patterns, but they’d been cut from the same cloth. The feeling of being alone wasn’t kind in the least, no matter where it stemmed from. Not for the first time she wished she could lend someone physical comfort in addition to emotional solace, the desire to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder growing stronger the longer he stood in front of her. “Of course. The world can be disappointing in the worst ways,” she began softly while forcing herself to stay where she was. “But I also know me and my family. And I bet you’ll be begging to get rid of us before they’d even think about leaving you alone. It’s just not in our blood.” After all, wasn’t that one of the tenants of being a medium? Ensuring that not even the dead were left behind, let alone one of their own. Where that was potentially comforting to Eddie, it was less than ideal for Willow— constantly having to make her own space when it came to the people that loved and raised her for fear of hurting them.

“You were just trying to help,” Willow began with a chuckle, the only reservations left in her being based around keeping Eddie out of arms-length. And so far he’d respected that. “And the dead...they have a lot less people helping them than the living- so I’m glad you did.” Her smile was softer this time, still settling into who she was while she was less concerned about a stranger being in her home. “It’s awesome to meet you too, Eddie.”

Kal elected this as good a time as ever to re-enter the conversation, some of his wariness stirpped away as the conversation proceeded. Besides— he was naturally inclined to like any medium he came across. “She means it- you know. About not leaving people alone. She can’t see me half the time, but she still talks to me. Even if she’s not even sure I’m here. She’d do the same for you.” It was why he’d become so attached to Willow in the first place, unable to deny the heart she had for caring.

Eddie smiled sadly when Willow mentioned disappointment. The world let him down a few times, but he placed the blame on himself more often than not. He made eye contact with his biggest disappointment every time he looked in the mirror. Willow swiftly pulled his mood out of the gutters of self-deprecation when she told him he wouldn’t be left alone, not by her family. A lump formed in his throat, forcing Eddie to convince himself not express such intense emotions around someone he met minutes ago. “Where’ve you guys been my whole life?” he asked, making an attempt at levity. Nothing she said felt real, but Eddie had a penchant for far-fetched beliefs.

“Yeah, you actually get it,” he said, nodding as he did. It made sense for a fellow medium to empathize with ghosts, but that didn’t make it any less surreal. “I’m glad I did too, otherwise we might not have ever met. That would’ve been a pretty big loss, I think.” He didn’t want to sound too certain, he knew how intense he could be.

Kal captured his attention next, confirming what Willow said. The lump in Eddie’s throat quivered, forcing him to clear it. “You guys make quite the duo,” he observed. “I, um, appreciate it—everything, I mean.” His gaze turned back to Willow. “You didn’t have to be so kind, most people wouldn’t. So, I… yeah, I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.”

Willow could tell he was on the verge of spilling over, she recognized it well when she’d seen it so often in herself. A gentle shrug tugged at her shoulders in response to his question, knowing he was trying to lighten the mood, but unable to perfectly match the nonchalance. “Just sitting here waiting, I guess. I think you’re actually running a bit late.” Another bell-like laugh trickled from her lips, not wanting to come on too strongly despite the kindness in her words. But she recognized a lost soul when she saw one, even if she’d seen less wandering spirits than most mediums had.

She got it. Maybe not quite as much as someone with fully realized abilities, but she’d seen enough of it through her sister and brother, and parents as well. For a moment Willow was also overcome by emotion, her throat tightening as Eddie landed his compliments. How long had it been since she’d had such a tender moment in person? How long had it been since she’d made actual eye contact with someone for this extended amount of time? “I think I’m the one who would have been missing out,” she answered with the corners of her eyes crinkling in a welcoming happiness. She didn’t mind his intensity, oftentimes having a penchant for it herself when it came to the delicate side of life.

Willow was silent a moment while she assumed Kal was talking to Eddie, reckoning the way his gaze flitted to the ghost over her shoulder. She’d seen it in the eyes of her family more than enough times. “Kal’s been here with me when...I haven’t been able to see much of anyone else. He does just as much for me as I do for him.” Possibly even more. “The way I see it- kindness is free, isn’t it?” Another shrug claimed her, and for a moment she thought she could almost feel Kal’s hand as he laid it onto her shoulder. “I’m just glad I can give it. You just focus on being kind to yourself, and we’ll call it even, yeah?”

Fresh tears stung Eddie’s eyes. He immediately blinked them away, trying his best to save face. Showing his emotions rarely sat well with him, but he felt safe here even though he only just arrived. “Sorry,” he offered yet another apology as a second wave of tears formed in his eyes. “I’m sorry, this is probably so awkward.” He wondered what Willow thought of him crying at the first sign of kindness. Eddie pulled the hem of his jacket’s sleeve into his palm and wiped away the evidence of his emotional outpouring. “I promise, I don’t usually do this in front of people I’ve just met… or anyone, actually.” He let out an empty huff of laughter, suddenly unable to make eye contact.

The blows kept coming as Willow turned the compliment around on him. “Yeah, well, we’ll see,” he countered. “Get back to me when you’ve known me for a few hours.” Eddie felt pathetic and happy at the same time; exposed and protected. It didn’t make sense, emotions weren’t supposed to contradict each other so harshly, not in his experience.

Eddie watched as Kal’s hand rested on Willow’s shoulder. He said she couldn’t see him half the time, but Eddie liked to think he could recognize love when saw it. An irresistible urge came over him and, before better judgement could kick in, his arms wrapped around Willow.

Willow was a sympathy crier. There was no way around it, and her own eyes were beginning to well as she watched Eddie’s fill with tears, though her’s were born of the happiness that came from witnessing the weight fall from the other medium’s shoulders. Her heart ached for him, recognizing just how desperate he must be to break down so easily when faced with the bare minimum in terms of showings of kindness. Her own clumsy laugh danced with Eddie’s while she gave him whatever time he needed to recollect himself. She’d already decided she was going to ask him to stay for some juice and cookies. Or maybe wine and cookies? He looked fairly young, just at the cusp of drinking age. Someone so young should never have been as alone as he seemed, and her soul began to hurt all over again.

All that turned to panic in the very blink of an eye as Eddie reached for a hug, and Willow’s hands were thrown out in front of her while she yelled frantically, “No! Don’t!” But it was too late, and as the young man came into contact with her hands she felt the telekinesis flash along with her flaring emotions. In another blink, he was pulsed back from her with a thrust far too powerful for the force to have come from her hands alone. “Oh god- oh god,” she gasped as she ran to his landing place on the couch. He’d fallen on something soft, but she wouldn’t feel relief until she knew he was alright. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Oh no- oh god I’m so sorry.” This time her tears were ones of dread and hopelessness. She should have known. Should have known things were going far too well, and that danger was lurking around the corner.

Eddie pushed the envelope often, it didn’t always end well, but he could honestly say that being telekinetically launched across the room was a first. He hit the couch with a thud, feeling like the air in his lungs had been knocked out of him. Before he could manage to sit up, Willow appeared next to him spewing apologies and concern. Eddie looked up at her, recognizing that she never meant to hurt him, and couldn’t help laughing. His lungs hurt, but he preferred the pain over crying. Propping himself up on his elbows, Eddie shook his head. “Hey, accidents happen,” he said with a wide grin. “But, uh, do you think you could teach me how to do that?”

Accidents happened, but they happened far too often when it came to Willow and her telekinesis. “But they shouldn’t,” she insisted, head shaking even as she skittered to put space between her and Eddie once again. “I don’t- I don’t control it.” The admission was paired with a blanket of shame and guilt falling over her features. Eddie had trusted her to give an answer when she offered help, and she was already failing the first question of that test. “I’m sorry- I can’t- I don’t know how to teach you. I don’t even know how to teach myself.” That was why he should stick around her brother more than he ever clung to her. “You should- you should go for now, I don’t want to hurt you if you stay longer.” How could she offer him a home, and then cast him out in the next breath? Was that not the cruelest thing she could have done? But if he left disappointed, at least he left whole and with his life still intact.

“Thank you, though.” He’d given her so much in just the span of a half an hour or so. “Really- thank you. I’m um- I’m glad the ghosts chose you to deliver the message, and brought you here.” Now the ghosts of her anxiety would just have to get him to leave. “And I do want you to text me.” In person wasn’t something she was willing to offer in the wake of having lost control, but she remembered how relieved he’d look immediately before everything had gone south, the look of a man crawling towards an oasis in the midst of a desert while he’d throw himself into his attempted hug. She wanted to be the person that quenched his loneliness. Willow just wasn’t sure how to do it while keeping him in one piece.

#// I AM EMO ABOUT THESE TWO MEDIUMS #AND FRANKIE IS A GIFT #wickedswriting #chatzy #ch:eddie #spirited away

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nehawriter16 · 4 years

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2020 / 24

There are only 2 things I can do on an airplane – dose up on sleeping meds and pass out, or order one too many cappuccinos, keep my exhausted brain awake, and will it to talk to paper. The flight from JFK was in the afternoon and in the chaos of leaving for the airport early in the morning, I forgot to pack my pills.

Two cappuccinos in, my hands were shaking and begging to be typing out the Mrs. Maisel speed monologue that constantly runs in my head. Even though there is a month left in this year, I decided to do my annual New Years Eve post. Over the last 3 days, I’ve been drilling it down to go from gibberish to slightly readable.

Here it is.

Like the rest of the world, in January, I was blissfully unaware of the shitstorm that would follow. I got into several colleges on the East Coast for a Master’s in Finance degree. Every day, I would race down the stairs with my laptop and show my parents: another admit, another scholarship! On the surface, I was making pro and con lists for each one. Deep down, my heart had already picked Fordham in New York. It was New York. Nothing else would cut it.

The day after I turned 24 in January, I also met my (now ex) boyfriend on the internet. Completely by accident, he saw my profile because a mutual friend followed my writing. Two days later, she texted me and said he would like to talk to me. Did I want to talk to some boy studying in Paris? I was single and bored and already had my year laid out for me, so why wouldn’t I?

It moved quickly. Three months later, we had been speaking every day and were exclusive. We had not hung out in person. It was stupid, but I had never come across anybody who liked me as much as he did. In every relationship I had been in before this, I always knew I was more emotionally involved. I fell in love with his devotion to me – he would stay home (who stays home in Paris!) and choose to spend virtual time with me over going to clubs with his friends. I watched myself become the epicenter of his life and thought – this is how much I’ve always wanted to mean to somebody.

In March when the pandemic hit and India shut down, my father sent a car to pick me up from my internship in Bombay, where I had moved two weeks ago. I didn’t pack so much as my toothbrush – the driver brought me home and I had no idea that it would be months before I’d get to leave again.

Morales stayed high in the beginning – we thought it would end in 21 days, then 2 months, then 5. It has taken over the whole year now, and despite us gridlocking it into “2020,” we all know the first half of 2021 will also be filled with masks and sanitizers and not hugging your friends. I wonder if I will ever settle into somebody’s arms without cringing again.

March melted into April, that melted into one long drawl until suddenly it was August and college was beginning the following week. I found myself refreshing the US consulate’s website absent mindedly one afternoon, and all appointments that had been suspended suddenly showed you a tiny little bar that read “reschedule.” I screamed and clicked.

I had thought I would be spending the year stuck at home, awake and attending classes at odd hours. While my classmates went to happy hours in dive bars in Manhattan, I would be in my bedroom, still chained to my parents’ curfews and ultimatums. But then suddenly, I was standing before a US immigration officer in Bombay, and he was telling me I had been granted my student visa.

All that was left to do was book a flight to New York, and break the news to my boyfriend, who was on his way to my abandoned apartment at this very moment for our first date, 7 months after we first began speaking. He had come home in March when France went into lockdown, and it was starting to feel like a throuple with long distance, the third and very present member in our relationship.

I packed up the belongings I had left there, and we sat across from each other on the double bed. I kissed him first. There were roadblocks, and our personalities and views clashed on so many important things, but I loved him. Two days later, I said: I have to leave for New York in 3 weeks. He didn’t take it well.

In September, I landed at JFK. When the wheels of the plane made contact with the runway, I was smiling behind a mask I’d had on for 16 hours. On the Air Train to Manhattan, I felt a sense of happiness wash over me and toyed with the possibility that maybe I wouldn’t mind if it was just me in this city. I would be okay alone.

I found an apartment, a roommate, signed a lease in a beautiful building in Hell’s Kitchen, walking distance from college. I met lots of people from my class and instantly picked out the ones I wanted to become good friends with. I dove straight into academics and extra curriculars at college – after 5 months of nothing happening, life was suddenly exciting again.

When New York lit up every night, it felt like anything was possible. I started eating better and walking a lot. My hair grew out from the bad haircut I’d gotten the year before. Coffee was no longer just coffee, it was finding a new café and walking through Central Park. Drinks were not just drinks, they were about accidentally stumbling onto a secret bar in the East Village, finding favorite spots in the neighborhood, letting a cute waiter recommend a cocktail to me even though I was perfectly capable of picking one myself.

The boyfriend and I were fighting more than usual. I was getting tired of it. We had discussed a life together, but it was slowly and surely becoming clear to me that I would resent myself for making big compromises for a person who still had a lot of growing up left to do. As New York got cold, I did too – without trying. When one particular argument got really bad, I asked for a break from the relationship. He didn’t like it.

A week later, I woke up to a girl sending me screenshots on Instagram of her conversation with him (pre me asking for a break) on a dating app, and without getting into details, I will tell you it was not a conversation anybody with a girlfriend should have been having. I should have been broken in half on the inside, but now I could finally say, without feeling guilty – this relationship was not working, nobody was happy, and you were so unhappy you thought talking to other women was okay. I spent all of one day drinking with a friend in Central Park and sobbing myself to sleep.

But mostly, what hit me after the initial shock had died down was a tsunami of relief. I felt lighter, freer. I try not to think too hard about the trauma that comes from finding out that the person you think is so devoted to you, and definitely loves you more than you love them (or so you think) is being unfaithful, because it hurts a part of me that is already very bruised from all the things that have happened to me before. So I don’t.

But it was New York. I was young and smart and there was a wine shop down the block that sold $14 bottles of Moscato. I didn’t need much else to know I would be okay. At 20, I would have jumped right back into going on dates every other night to distract myself from what had happened, then never called any of those men back. At 24, this emotional speed bump resulted in a lot of quiet introspection in my bedroom. I spent a lot of time alone, on the phone with friends, and walking around the city. I had learnt to like my own company enough to not fill a suddenly empty void with anybody else’s, even though there have been several tempting offers in this past month, and sometimes, I have succumbed to them, but mostly I am very strict with who deserves my company.

It was nice to spend that second month in New York by myself. I owed absolutely nobody a single minute of my time. No one asked me questions, or called me and expected me to share my day unless I wanted to, and once I had worked hard and cleared out the things from my to do list for the day, time stretched out before me and I had the autonomy to decide the smallest thing down to who to meet, what to eat, how much to sleep.

I didn’t let my academics and ambition suffer – no matter what happens, I never do and I never will. The grades stay up – it’s built into my system. I am back home now and just 2 days in, I find myself wishing I hadn’t left New York. I was starting to build a life I liked there, and the only price I had to pay for it was a 4 pm sunset. It would have been slightly lonely, but I like the time I spend by myself. I worked hard to become like that.

This month, I will see my friends here at home. I’ve missed them. I can’t believe I grew up in this city and I already feel so alienated from it just from 60 days of living away. Is that how badly I wanted to leave?

I might be dramatic and fly back on my 25th birthday, so that I can say, “I was on a flight,” and ignore the slowly expanding bubble of dread that comes with turning that old. I like the ambiguity of airports and I’m the sort of inherently sad person who would love to be alone and unreachable on my birthday.

I acknowledge that my problems this year have been so small in the face of those of us who have lost family members, contracted the virus, had to give up internships or had jobs taken from us, been torn away from family, or had to make it through this alone.

I feel almost guilty that good things have happened to me in a year that has predominantly been bad for almost everyone else. I feel apologetic, even though from 2017 to 2019, I was treated like life’s sick joke so I should deserve these good things that I worked hard for.

I definitely feel myself growing up, though. Emotionally I find I have a clearer idea of what I want from relationships and friendships, and I don’t second guess cutting off anybody who doesn’t serve that purpose or messes with my mental peace. I still have days when self-doubt comes over for a cup of tea, leaves me weak in the knees, but most days are free of it. I am also moving out of that chameleon phase where I mirrored what I thought a room full of new people would want from me, and I am unapologetically myself, irrespective of who’s watching.

Last year I remember wishing for something stupid, like “I wish there was somebody to kiss on New Years Eve,” because I’ve never had anybody to smack lips with when it’s midnight. This year, I don’t care. I’ll kiss myself in the mirror, for all I care. I love her. She’s my homie.

It’s been a weird year. I know who I was in 2019, and I remember wondering if I was proud of her. Things were still in purgatory then. But I steered my life and brought it back on track. This year, I am proud of myself without doubting it.

There’s no measuring scale for personal growth, but if there was, I feel at least a couple of inches taller in 2020.

#personal 2020 writing

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cosmidoodles · 4 years

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finally whipped up a relationship chart for my camp camp high school AU that took me a lot longer than i anticipated, here’s what it looks like:

below are descriptions for each relationship

Dating

Liz and Petrol have been dating since their sophomore year. They’re madly in love with each other and went even as far as discussing marriage and parenthood.

[Shown in Related Category]

Kevin and Charity (Cute Waitress) have been dating for a bit over a year and are currently living together. The two met after Kevin got his act together and applied for a job at the same restaurant Charity worked at. Their love for each other is transformative.

Bonquisha and Jacob are happily married to each other and are raising Celine together.

David and Gwen are married (have been for about 3-4 years). They first started officially dating after David adopted Max and after a year, David decided to propose. During his proposal, Gwen felt sick and the two realized they were pregnant. They then got legally married and Gwen gave birth to their twin children, Willow and Rowan. They never had an official wedding.

Crush

Max has a crush on Nikki that he doesn’t want to act on in favor of their friendship, luckily Nikki is oblivious to all the clues.

Neil and Erin have a crush on each other but have yet to confess to each other. Neil occasionally tries to make a move but often fails or makes it very awkward. Meanwhile, Erin is very aware of Neil’s feelings but hasn’t made any moves because of Tabii’s past infatuation on him.

Nerris and Harrison have crushes on each other and still try to pretend they hate each other. This act didn’t really work as everyone thinks they’re just acting like an old married couple. Neither of them have actually owned up to their feelings.

Meli has a crush on Preston and doesn’t want to act on it because Preston doesn’t care about romance at the moment and is more focused on his passions.

Dolph has a conflicting crush on Space Kid and Space Kid is blissfully unaware of it.

Colin has a crush on Nurf but Nurf is unaware since he’s more focused on his after school plans and scholarships.

Ered and Celine have a crush on each other, Ered is more open with her attraction and flirts with Celine while Celine tries to hide her feelings and has more huffy reactions because she believes a relationship of any kind (romantic and/or platonic) is just a distraction.

Snake has a crush on Tabii but is too afraid to speak to her again after what went down between them at the Lake Lilac Summer Social. Tabii is unaware as she’s currently going through her journey of self-love.

Pikeman has feelings for Vera but she’s suspicious of his affections due to her being clueless about love and thinks he’s playing some trick on her.

Attraction

Nikki’s fascination with Ered still lives though her need to gain her validation has decreased. Ered doesn’t really notice Nikki (unless she’s hanging out with Nerris and Dolph).

Sasha is attracted to Jermy after his huge change over the years. Jermy, now gaining more self-confidence and intuition, wants nothing to do with her.

Sasha is also attracted to Max, but she’s really more attracted to the idea of him being a bad boy.

Despite not reciprocating his feelings (because he’s unaware), Nurf is aware of Colin’s existence and thinks he’s cute.

Even though he has intense feelings for Tabii, Snake is attracted to Vera. I mean, could you blame him? He likes his girls brutal and beautiful— but he respects Pikeman’s crush on her and doesn’t let his feelings wander into something stronger.

Exes

Erin and Ered were talking to each other through social media in Erin’s freshman year and Ered’s sophomore year. It stopped after Ered lost interest and ghosted her. They’ve never spoken to each other in person, but they have face timed.

Tabii and Pikeman had briefly dated for a few weeks during the summer of Tabii’s freshman year and Pikeman’s junior year. It wasn’t anything genuine as Tabii used Pikeman as a “rebound” while Pikeman was desperate to get with any girl. Their breakup was a mutual decision and agreed it wasn’t anything serious.

[Shown in Related Category]

David and Bonquisha previously dated but broke up (as you all know). They haven’t spoken to each other since the incident at the restaurant.

Ex-Crush

Tabii had an obsessive crush on Neil up until he made his disinterest clear during her freshman year (and his sophomore year).

Dolph had a crush on Ered back to when they were children. This ended by the time he reached puberty.

Erin had a crush on Snake during the Lake Lilac Summer Social and you all know how that ended haha.

Colin had a crush on Liz during their time in middle school, though his infatuation ended by the time he realized she’d never return the feelings. He never told her about this past crush.

Best Friends

Max, Nikki, and Neil are still close to this day and are often seen together. Though they have very different classes, they try to hang out with each other during lunch or passing periods and even outside of school.

Harrison and Preston grew close to each other during middle school because of their performative interests. Throughout the years, they would give each other the moral support they most often lacked in their childhood. To this day, they have contrasting schedules but Harrison decided to join stage crew as a means to hang out with Preston.

Nurf and Meli have a special bond that grew after Meli’s mother/Nurf’s therapist got them to befriend each other. When outside of their extra curriculars, they are inseparable despite being polar opposites on the surface.

Meli and Preston quickly became friends in each other’s freshman year during the fall musical-- Preston was only an understudy and often hung out in the make-up room with Meli whenever he wasn’t needed on stage (which was basically the majority of the show). Fast forward to the present, Preston and Meli are usually seen around each other during rehearsal.

After Ered and Nerris went on their journey to the abandoned half-pipe on Sleepy Peak Peak, they quickly became good friends by the time they reached high school, they became best friends.

Dolph and Space Kid have grown close over the years due to their closeness in age (much of their peers are older than them) and how they’ve always felt like outcasts ever since their childhood. They usually hang around each other and chill or Dolph uses Space Kid as his muse for his art. Space Kid also calls Dolph “Rudy” and is the only one who calls him that.

Despite their friend group drifting apart, Erin and Tabii maintained a close friendship and often confide in each other. They are typically around each other-- walking to their classes, eating lunch together, or gossiping during their free blocks.

Liz and Colin are childhood friends and are attached to the hip. They typically are around each other at school-- with Petrol third wheeling (cause y’know… he doesn’t speak)-- and outside of school.

Although there’s a gap with age and emotional maturity, Snake and Petrol have stayed right by each other’s sides throughout the years.

Friends

Nikki, Nerris, and Dolph have also maintained their friendship after all these years and occasionally hang out with each other whenever they all can.

After their decision to reside in Sleepy Peak, Dang, Hwan, and Vera have stuck together and tried to reform themselves in their new homes and have a begrudgingly sibling-like dynamic. Pikeman is still friends with Snake and Petrol to this day, though he isn’t necessarily close to them. They all hang out sometimes but it’s not often because of Pikeman’s other activities and priorities.

Meli had befriended both Harrison and Dolph through the theatre department, all three of them being a part of stage crew (Meli being in charge of makeup & costumes; Harrison, lighting; and Dolph, painting set pieces). They sometimes hang out with each other during rehearsal.

Harrison is also a part of Broadcasting Club (thinking he could show off his magic skills… oh, how he was wrong) and only hangs out with Max— they’ve surprisingly gotten along a lot better.

Throughout his high school career, Preston got to patch things up with Nurf and befriended Tabii. They’re the only actors in the theatre department who aren’t annoyed by his boisterous nature.

From their time together in the Academics Team, Neil and Erin grew a pretty solid friendship and typically try to study and practice together as an excuse to be around each other. This friendship rekindled an old crush for Neil and sparked a new one for Erin.

Liz and Space Kid are both talented singers and in advanced choir. In class and practices, they love to goof off and sing together. They sometimes hang out outside of that curriculum.

Dang had also befriended Dolph and Space Kid. He and Dolph became close through their love of art and he became acquainted with Space Kid after he volunteered to be his muse for one of his photo shoots.

Dolph and Ered maintained a friendship throughout the years as well and have an older sister-little brother dynamic (which is strange considering Dolph’s past crush on her but let’s not talk about that-).

Erin and Colin are friends as well, they met from having a class together and the two immediately clicked. They aren’t really close and only hang out in that one class they share.

Colin is also friends with Jermy, who he met from Marching Band, and the two usually discuss about that activity and sometimes hang out.

Acquaintances

Pikeman, Sasha, and Max still share a “leadership” solidarity that they grew years ago. They still act like assholes to one another but it’s clear that they all care and respect each other.

Nurf knows Petrol (both in the football team) and Snake (both are in wrestling) and occasionally talk to each other during the practices of the respective activity.

Throughout the years, Jermy drifted from the Wood Scouts (Petrol, Snake, and Pikeman) but if they ever bump into each other, they try to catch up on each other's lives.

Sasha and Vera still sometimes speak to each other but only when Sasha needs a vicious favor, though they like to talk shit about the girls at their school.

Snake and Neil sometimes talk whenever they come across each other and most often, they hype each other up or give some advice if it’s needed.

The only person that Celine can consider an “acquaintance” is Hwan and that’s mostly because they share a very similar schedule and whenever there needs to be partner work, they choose each other since they both have no friends.

Dislike

After getting her heart broken, Tabii felt bitter and immediately grew a disdain towards Neil. But hey, at least it somewhat helped her move on.

Harrison and Neil still share a rivalry— it mostly consists of Harrison purposefully saying something stupid or doing anything to tick Neil off.

Sasha still belittles Nikki whenever she gets the chance, which annoys Nikki more than anything. It should be noted that Sasha is actually envious of how despite being everything she’s against, Nikki finds herself happy and content with everything/one she has while Sasha lost her childhood friends.

Max and Celine are both in the Broadcast Club (which also happens to be the School News Club bc their school sucks ass) and are often put together— which typically ends in disaster because of their contrasting personalities but also their strikingly similar stubbornness.

Nerris and Harrison still try to pretend that they hate each other for old time’s sake. But as mentioned previously, it’s clear to everyone that isn’t the case.

Though it’s been stated that they both have feelings for each other, Celine tries to mask her emotions by putting up a bitchy and unapproachable front for Ered.

Neil and Hwan share a rivalry within the Academics Club due to how Hwan keeps putting himself in a leadership position that Neil finds to be very aggravating.

Neil also has a one-sided rivalry with Liz. Both are passionate about science and Neil, being the petty asshole he is, dislikes the fact that Liz could be better than him at his biggest passion.

Even though it’s out of his nature, Space Kid despises Vera and vice versa. Mostly because their views heavily contrast one another.

Gwen and David are parents to Max, Willow, and Rowan. Max’s relationship with his parents is very much the same as it was in the series but more loving. His relationship with his younger siblings aren’t what you’d expect— he loves them dearly and is very protective of them. He also tries his best to be a better version of himself around them.

Nikki and Neil are step-siblings after Candy decided to give Carl another shot (mostly for her own personal gain) and the two got married. However, Neil is mostly in his mother’s custody and sees his dad on the weekends. Neil and Nikki’s relationship hasn’t really changed other than the both of them gaining a new sense of brotherly/sisterly love for one another.

Jacob is Celine’s biological father while Bonquisha is her step-mother. Celine’s relationship with her dad is quite healthy and she’s considerably close to him (especially after her mother’s death). With Bonquisha, she doesn’t mind her but doesn’t try to make any sort of bond with her much to both Bonquisha and Jacob’s dismay.

Liz is Charity’s (Cute Waitress) niece. Liz considers Charity to be more of a motherly figure than an aunt as she looked after her while both of her parents were at work.

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