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sailoryooons · 3 months

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Boyfriend Material | jjk (m)

☾ Pairing: Hockey Player!Jungkook x f. Reader

☾ Summary: Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material – except when he is.

☾ Word Count: 2,127

☾ Genre: FWB, Hint of Angst, Smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Friends with benefits who are very obviously pretending not to have feelings, being in a confusing relationship that is basically a relationship without titles, feelings of confusion and self-doubt, lying to oneself, mentions of some toxic interactions with other people/women, repressed feelings, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving) in the shower, honestly, in general, some very cliche/stereotypical conflict you’d find in a relationship with someone of status

☾ Published: March 23, 2024

☾ A/N: This is a self-insert of one of the most confusing relationships I have ever had in my life and I will die on the hill that no one should date athletes because 98% of them are the rule, not the exception no matter how much they seem like it! TRAUMA!!! Also, should I have been dating a professional athlete for the sport I worked in? No!!!! This is for all the people who have been in a not-relationship-that-is-a-relationship why the fuck do people do that like it is okay to have feelings and call ur partner ur partner??

☾ A/N 2: This is drabble number six for the Drabble Challenge that I have been utterly failing at! Today I rolled for ‘athlete’ but I didn’t feel like writing actual sports so I was like :) I worked in sports for ten years, I can just share a glimpse of my life when I was 23 years old :) Enjoy

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ 100 Drabble Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Song Inspiration

“Fuck, I’m so tired,” Jungkook groans, leaning back in the chair and stretching his arms. Sun beats down on his golden skin. You feel the heat of it on your back and the top of your head. It’s pleasant, the cool spring breeze threatening to send the napkins on the table running. “Wanna lay out at the pool?”

Finishing the rest of your coffee, you nudge the empty plate away from you. Where once an eggs benedict had stood is now smears of leftover yolk and a single onion you missed when eating your hashbrowns.

“Not sick of me?” you ask, raising a brow.

Jungkook isn’t looking at you, scrolling on his phone. The bill of his hat is pulled low, hiding most of his face as he squints down at the device held low in his lap. You wait patiently for his answer, running your finger up and down the now-empty glass as it sweats from the sun.

“Nope,” he answers, popping the end of the word sharply. “Did you ever get your desk fixed? Yoongi said he would fix it if not.”

“I have not.”

He nods. “He said he’ll swing by this afternoon. We can lay out at the pool at my place and then head to yours after?”

Your mouth twitches. You don’t say it out loud because you don’t want to risk him backing out, but another full day spent with Jungkook is a surprise to you. Not because it doesn’t happen often – it does. But rather because it keeps happening more often.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. He’d established that the first night he met you at a bar. Him being a professional athlete was a warning sign enough that you didn’t want to romance that but what had come afterward has been nothing short of surprising.

Friendship and… well. You don’t know how to explain the extras.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. But you do your groceries together on the weekend. You drop him off at the arena when they’re heading out for a road trip. You take him to doctor's appointments to monitor the knee injury from last season.

You’re not Jungkook’s girlfriend but he takes you to team events. He lets himself in and does your laundry at your apartment while you’re at work so you don’t have to do it when you come home. He has his teammates fix furniture for you and they’ve asked you to babysit their kids.

“Babe?” the endearment makes you blink a few times, realizing you’d been staring into your lap. Jungkook’s dark eyes are focused on you now, phone shoved into his pocket. “We don’t have to go to the pool. We can just nap.”

We. Not you. Jungkook is going to hang out with you regardless if you like his original idea or not. Your stomach flips in that way you hate, the way that you know you’re doing everything you said you wouldn’t.

“Sounds good.”

Jungkook flashes a grin and you become acutely aware that thinking you could be friends with benefits without being anything more was a stupid idea. Jungkook is not made to be resisted, with round eyes that darken when he’s turned on, a giggle that contrasts with the big, broad-shouldered athlete built, a smile that lights up the room and can dispel any tension, a sweet voice that can tempt anyone the moment he pouts or when he decides to pur.

You were fucked - literally and figuratively - that first night you let him in your apartment.

Instead of thinking about it, you hide from the truth. Again. Jungkook is not boyfriend material, despite the fact that he pays for breakfast despite your protests, and reaches over the center console in the car to squeeze your thigh.

“Mmm,” he hums, fingers skating over your flash and making you squirm in the passenger seat. “Warm.”

“I was sitting in the sun.”

“I like it.”

Jungkook likes a lot about you. He tells you all the time, very open about how he likes the way you taste, likes the way you organize your books by color, likes the way you sing in the shower, likes the way you speak in Star Wars quotes.

Perhaps that’s what makes you the most wary about him. He says he’s not boyfriend material, but his actions betray his words. And you let them, every single time.

Jungkook smells like sunscreen, sweat, and a little bit of his cologne from earlier that morning. You’re hyperaware of him as you lounge on the cabana bed together, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his firm body.

His tattooed arm is tossed over his eyes, blocking out the sun as he snores a little. Careful not to knock into him, you lean over him and grab his phone to check the time. You haven’t been lounging in the sun long, but you don’t want him to get a sunburn.

Again.

You wager you can stay a little longer, placing the phone back down under his discarded shirt where it can hide from the sun’s heat. Sitting back in your spot, you pick up your book from your sweaty thighs as the sound of the gate to the pool yard opening catches your attention.

Some of Jungkook’s teammates live in the same apartment complex. It’s easier that way, especially for the players who get sent up and down from the minors. You catch a few of the younger players with a few girls you don’t know the name of tugging a cooler on wheels behind them with a speaker blaring.

Jungkook doesn’t so much as move. He can sleep through anything – has slept through you falling into his gaming setup while trying to get to the bathroom drunk. His slumbering leaves you to watch them head to the beds a few over from yours.

One of the girls notices you. You don’t recognize her specifically, but she recognizes Jungkook. Looks back at you. Frowns and mutters something to one of the other girls, who is not very subtle as she cranks her head around in your direction.

You don’t wince anymore. It’s not an uncommon thing, among these circles. You refuse to engage with any of it. You used to tell yourself it was because a casual whatever-Jungkook-is simply isn’t worth the drama. At night, you know you don’t engage with it because you don’t want to know.

Ignorance is bliss, especially in this dangerously plastic world Jungkook exists in.

Thankfully, you’re not alone in the matter. Jimin appears out of thin air, dropping down on the empty bed next to you. Namjoon – arguably Jimin’s better half and team captain – is nowhere to be found. Jimin lowers his shades and looks beyond you to the group of now rowdy players.

“Gross,” he huffs. He slides his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and stretches out on the bed like a cat. Jimin doesn’t play, but he certainly has the body of an athlete, all fine lines and corded muscle. “Ignore them.”

“I was doing that already.” You lift your book as if to prove yourself.

He snorts. “You were thinking about it, be honest.” Your silence is answer enough and Jimin grins, lacing his hands behind his head as he tilts toward the sun. “Don’t let Jungkookie burn again.”

“I’m not,” you huff before snapping your book shut. Jimin is in the circle of player’s partners that you genuinely enjoy, but he has the keen ability to get under your skin and tell you all of the truths that you don’t want to be voiced out loud. Still, having him on your side has more benefits than just keeping the hyenas away from you. He’s also genuinely nice when he wants to be. “Jungkook, wake up.”

The man mumbles and turns his head away from you. You sigh heavily, squeezing his strong, very sweaty arm gently. “Come on, you’re gonna burn if you stay out here any longer.”

“Mm. Feels nice.”

“A sunburn won’t feel nice.”

“You can rub aloe all over me.”

“I will not.”

“Just five more minutes.”

“Jeon.”

He drops his arm from his eyes, squinting in the bright light at you. His hair is damp with sweat and hangs in his eyes. He’s been growing it out longer and longer, especially since Seokjin keeps encouraging Jungkook by telling him he has the best flow on the team.

“So you don’t want to rub aloe all over me?”

“You don’t need to get sunburned for me to touch you, Jungkook.”

“Bleh,” Jimin grunts.

That makes Jungkook sit up, rolling his shoulders and twisting to pop his back. He sighs for a moment, closing his eyes as though willing himself to get up. When he opens them again, there’s a light in them and he smirks, looking you up and down.

“Wanna shower?”

Your mouth twitches and you roll your eyes to hide how much you want to shiver. “Come on,” you sigh, getting up, the fabric of the sunbed clinging to your sweaty skin.

Eyes cling to you as you pull the sundress over your head and slide your sandals on. You don’t have to glance over at the mini-party a few sunbeds over to know you’re being watched. You suppose they’re watching Jungkook more than anything, but you’re in direct view behind him, grabbing your book.

You know Jungkook notices them. He says nothing, though. Instead, he offers his hand out when you shove all your belongings in a bag, wanting to carry it. You grin and hand it over to him, smile growing as he shoulders it easily and offers his hand again, this time for you to take.

And you do take it. Perhaps the satisfaction that thrums through you as he leads you out of the pool yard and onto the deck that crosses the lake toward his apartment building is a little bit insidious. You don’t care. The momentary triumph that you shouldn’t be feeling at all is far too powerful and Jungkook’s hand is far too warm and safe in yours to care about why you feel good about the public display of affection.

It isn’t like he hasn’t done it before. Jungkook isn’t shy with others in front of you. It’s what makes the whole thing worse, somehow. Because Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he introduces you to people and friends and slides between your legs to lean on you when you’re sitting on a barstool. He holds your hand when you go on a lunch and shopping spree with your mom and he brings her coffee and flowers.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but you don’t care when the shower hits the warm skin and runs down your back as he presses your chest to the cold shower wall in front of you. The cool stone stings against your nipples, over-sensitive and sending a shiver down your spine as your eyes flutter shut.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he curses low under the sound of the shower as he pries your legs apart, tongue seeking the heat between them hungrily. Your mouth falls open as Jungkook’s tongue licks you soft-slow, lips sucking gently against your clit.

“Shit,” you hiss. The difference in temperatures between the hot water and the cold wall makes the room spin. Steam makes it harder to breathe, your head pleasure-dizzy as Jungkook laughs and rolls his tongue lazily around your dripping cunt. “Fuck.”

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he eats you out slow and hungry. He doesn’t care that the water starts to lose its warmth as his mouth works you, smacking his lips loudly and moaning, vibrations going straight to your core where you drip on his soft tongue.

His hands grip your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he pries you apart further, tongue delving into your aching hole. He slurps at you, mouth loud and sticky over the sound of your panting and the water hitting the tile floor. His little hums of appreciation buzz through you, making the room spin.

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing your cheek to the wet, cold stone as you try to ground yourself. You twist an arm backward, gripping Jungkook’s wet hair. He lets out a loud groan in appreciation, always pleased when you pull on his hair. “Don’t stop.”

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he does whatever you want him to. His tongue delves in, working you to orgasm until you’re shaking against the wall, knees knocking together and nearly collapsing on him. He catches you easily, standing and pressing you against the wall as he grabs your chin and brings your mouth toward him, his to devour.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material.

But more than anything, you want him to be.

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook bts fic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #100 drabble challenge

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everyonewooeverywhere · 3 months

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MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ fuckboy!mingi x party girl!reader (feat. best friends/roomates!woosan)

synopsis ✭ you like to party but that doesn’t mean you’re always down to fuck, so, when notorious fuck boy song mingi takes an interest in you, you’re certainly wary of him. but something about his insistence and willingness to go the extra mile is incredibly attractive. when they see you start to play into him, though, your best friends wooyoung and san do everything in their power to keep you away from him. so mingi has no choice but to fly under their radar.

content/genre ✭ smut MDNI 18+, fwb/situationship to ???, undefined relationship, secret relationship

word count ✭ 5.3k

warnings ✭ alcohol consumption (not during/before sex), protected sex, slight dirty talk, fingering, sex is pretty vanilla

✭✭✭✭

CHAPTER 1: SWEET TALKER

The scene was very familiar to you. A packed bar on a Friday night. A skimpy outfit that made you feel good. Loud music that shook through your body, lyrics drowned out by the heavy bass and mass of people. All of that on top of a drink in your hand paid for by a guy you knew full well you were not going home with. It was the recipe for a perfect night.

You certainly weren’t a stranger to a good party. And this one wasn’t any different from the others. The drink in your hand was free, paid for by the pretty stranger you were talking to. His name completely slipped your mind, but you didn’t really need to remember it because, moments after catching your eyes from across the bar, your friend slipped his arm over your shoulder.

When you looked up at him in mock surprise, he kissed your forehead. He turned to look at the guy you were talking to, one who was mildly surprised to find out you had a boyfriend.

Despite his surprise, though, he piped up anyway, “Can I help you? We were kinda talking here.”

Wooyoung shook his head and laughed, “I don’t really appreciate guys buying drinks for my girl and trying to hook up with her.”

“But–”

“We’ll be on our way actually,” Wooyoung cut off the nameless man, leading you away with his arm still around your shoulder.

It wasn’t until the two of you made it to the tall table where your friend San was standing that he dropped his arm from your shoulder.

Immediately, though, Wooyoung glared at you, “Was the drink worth it?”

“Honestly, not really,” you laughed, “His taste kinda sucked.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow, “You’re just mad you can’t anyone to pay for your alcohol that isn’t San.”

“I only pay because he never stops whining,” he glared at your friend. “And it’s not like I’m gonna drink tonight either,” he said, taking a sip of the Coke in his hand.

“You don’t have to be the designated driver every weekend, San,” you told him, “Wooyoung knows how to drive, too.”

Wooyoung scoffed, “You bitch. You know how to drive. Why don’t you ever offer?”

“Because you are a gentleman, and you would never make me drive you home after a long night.”

“That’s some bullshit logic.”

You shrugged, “It works on San.”

“You know I don’t mind,” San chimed in, trying to break up this completely unnecessary argument.

You knew, but pushing Wooyoung’s buttons was always fun, especially when he was tipsy. Turning away from the table, scanning the bar. It was relatively early, only around ten, but the bar was packed with mostly students from your university. They hung around the bar and danced on the floor. It was a typical Friday night for a lot of students at your university. Since the bar was only half a mile from campus, you’d be hard-pressed to find a body in here who didn’t attend your school or know someone who did. Despite that, most of these people you had never seen before in your life.

Song Mingi was not one of those people.

Personally, you had only ever interacted with him in passing. Mostly with his friends. When they bought you a drink hoping you’d come back to their place. The majority of them had failed (in fact, only one of them had ever succeeded). But you knew his name at least, and you were pretty confident he knew yours.

He had never really tried. Probably because you had a reputation for rejections. Most guys, fortunately for your wallet, saw this as a challenge, and you were never gonna turn down free stuff.

From where he stood across the bar you could tell he was staring at you. Even with his stupid sunglasses on. He was staring at you with complete disregard for the fact that there was already a girl on his arm. You saw his eyebrows raise above the glasses as if he was greeting you without tipping off the girl with him. You rolled your eyes a looked back over at San who was sliding around the table to your side.

“He’s been watching you all night.”

“Really?” you titled your head, minorly intrigued. Maybe “minorly” was a lie because you could hardly ignore the butterflies in your stomach at knowing that fact.

“Y/n…”

You side-eyed him, “What?”

You knew “what.” Of course, you did. That much was obvious from the girl on his arm who he was pretending to pay attention to. Mingi went through girls like they were busy work. Checking them off like boxes and moving on to the next. As far as you know, he hadn’t had a girlfriend in your four years of attending the university, and you weren’t delusional enough to believe that the attention he was giving you was anything special.

As much as you despised a fuckboy, though, you would be a fool to deny that Song Mingi was the epitome of your type. Tall, dark hair, great style. Dressed in all black and adorned with carefully chosen silver jewelry. Sometimes you wondered why all the hottest guys you knew were the ones who were almost certainly never going to settle down. San would be the one to tell you to reassess your type, but listening to San was something you didn’t do very often (even though he was always right).

“I know you, and you do not want to mess around with him.”

“Correction, I don’t want to date him. I would very much like to mess around with him.”

San looked at you disapprovingly, “You and I both know that you don’t go home with guys because you know you’ll catch feelings for a one-night-stand. Tell me how the fuck you’re going to mess around with him and keep it purely casual.”

He was right, as per usual. You weren’t really the type to be able to separate romantic feelings from your sex life. God, you had surely tried, but each attempt had ended in disastrous heartbreak. And you had no reason to believe that this would be any different.

“One drink couldn’t hurt.” You were desperately trying to reason with him. Well, you were more trying to reason with yourself, but San was there to be of assistance.

“Ask him why the fuck he’s wearing sunglasses inside at night,” Wooyoung chimed in from behind you.

“Stop encouraging her.”

“Ok, dad,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes and took a sip of the Coke San had left on the table.

“It’s fine, Sannie, I’m not gonna fuck him. I’ll just talk to him, and maybe dance with him. That’s it. I’ll still come back here, and we’ll all go home together. Ok?”

Despite San’s major disapproval, you made your way back up to the bar. If he wanted you that bad, he’d come to you. You certainly weren’t going to make the first move here. If he wanted to get closer than just checking you out.

Inevitably, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was Wooyoung, and he was letting you know that Mingi was making his way toward the bar.

In order to avoid another mediocre drink, you started ordering a drink for yourself. When the bartender asked for your card at the end of your order, you started digging around in your clutch. Mingi knew your game. He knew full well, as he approached you, that that clutch held absolutely nothing of monetary value. And he was right of course, you had brought it for the sole purpose of holding your phone and a tube of lip gloss.

“Go ahead and make two of those,” Mingi reached over your shoulder and handed the bartender his card.

You looked up at him, eyes wide, faking your surprise, “Oh! Thank you.”

“Of course, anything for a pretty girl who goes to bars without a wallet” he smiled down at you. Leaning against the bartop.

Laughing, you shrugged, “I don’t need to why pretty boys are willing to pay for my drinks.”

“So you knew I would pay before you even got up here?”

“Please, I could practically feel you staring at me all night,” that was fully a lie, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Couldn’t help myself. You look great it black,” He gestured to the minidress you wore. It was one of your favorites, so it felt good that he seemed to like it, too.

You grabbed at the jacket he was wearing, running your thumb over the fabric, “So do you.”

The bartender slid your drinks to you, and Mingi picked both of them up. His fingers brushed your own as he handed it to you.

The two of you chatted and flirted for the better part of an hour. The time honestly flew by. You looked over at your friends to see that some more people had gathered around their table. Great. That meant you had time. San chatting away with people meant he wasn’t ready to leave. And you wanted to dance with Mingi. So you for sure weren’t ready to leave. You looked out over the dance floor, it was still super lively. Just crowded enough for you to have fun.

When you set your empty glass down on the bar, Mingi grabbed your hand. He nodded toward the dance floor you were looking at so longingly, “You wanna dance?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “sure.”

✭✭✭✭

Dancing with Mingi was incredible. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the fact that he looked so fucking good under the low lights of the bar, but holy shit.

The rings on his hand dug into your waist where his hands were holding you against him. With your head leaned back against his chest, you could feel his breath on your neck. He groan slightly ever time you gripped his hair. It was such a subtle groan that you could only really feel it reverbrate of hiss body.

When he turned you around in his arms, you where quick to place yours over his shoulders, pushing your chest into his. He smirked down at you with both of his hands resting on the lowest part of your back, any lower and he fully would have been groping you.

You danced with him for an indecerable amount of time. You were sweating from the amount of bodies in the room, and you can tell Mingi is too from the sheen on his forehead.

Moving a hand from his shoulder you grabbed the sunglasses, his stupid fucking sunglasses, and lifted them up onto his head. Looking into his eyes for the first time, he winked at you. You laughed and rolled your eyes.

He pulled you closer to him, as if it were even possible. You tangled your hands in his hair as the two of you danced together. Communicating with nothing but body movements. Everything was hot, from the air in the room, to his hands on your back. You felt nothing but pure dopamine infused ecstasy.

Most of the time, the men who bought you drinks spent their time with you bragging about themselves and telling you how good you looked in whatever outfit you had opted for that night.

It was rare that you actually had fun with them. That was usually reserved for your friends.

Maybe it was the fact that you had already decided on not going home with him, though that decision was sounding more and more unappealing as the night went on, or maybe it was because you were dancing with a man who just knew how to have fun.

There were no thoughts in you head other than the utter giddiness you felt when his hands squeezed your waist or when his head dipped to your neck as he breathed something in your ear.

Nothing could take you out of this moment. Well maybe except your phone buzzing in your bag. You had felt it buzz around six times before you reached into your bag to see what it was.

Of course, as you suspected it might be, it was Wooyoung. Telling you that he was tired and wanted to go home. You huffed and thought about ignoring it when you saw San approaching you.

Quickly, and without much thought at all, you reached into Mingi’s back pocket. He looked a bit taken aback by the action. When you pulled out his phone, he looked down at you, intrigued.

“Open it,” you told him. He did what you asked, unlocking the device and handing it back to you. You were quick to type in your number with your name. Simple. No emojis. No petnames. He could change it up later if he really wanted.

By the time San had grabbed your shoulder, you had already given him his phone back. And that was it. You let San pull you away. Left him with nothing but your phone number. Not a kiss. Not a promise to meet up. Not a “call me” with a wink. Nothing.

You left him with the hope that, if he really wanted you, he would chase you. At least just a little bit.

✭✭✭✭

Mingi had really pulled through. He had texted you that next night. It was nothing special. He told you that he had had a good time. That he thought you were beautiful, and he’d love to see you again. You texted a bit through the week, too. Casually flirting with each other. Well, it was more of him flirting, and you responding calmly. A completely false persona, because every time he mentioned anything suggestive you were a total wreck. Kicking your feet, giggling with red ears.

Even when he texted you at work.

✭✭✭✭

Working the closing shift was always such a bore. Working until the late hours of the night, cleaning up messes that you had no part in making. It was the perfect storm for a less-than-perfect evening.

Having a friend to join you in that suffering, though, made it just a little more bearable. You had to beg your manager to keep scheduling you with San in the evenings, but it certainly paid off. The restaurant was small, so it was just the two of you at night. Left to your own devices to clean up and close down.

Being alone with him, though, unfortunately, gave him time to lecture you.

You’d just finished mopping the floors in the back kitchen when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You smiled a little when you saw who it was.

“Oh god,” you heard San grumble from where he was next to you, also mopping the floors.

You looked up at him, “what?”

“You know what,” he rolled his eyes, “are you actually talking to that douchebag?”

You shrugged, “it’s nothing serious. It’s all just fun.”

“Yeah, it’s all just fun until you actually start catching feelings for him, and then he dumps you like he has so many other girls.”

His words stung quite a bit, but mostly because you knew there was more than a small layer of truth to them. You knew this was far from the first time that Mingi had given a girl this much attention, but you’d be fully lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t like it. His sweet words and constant pet names were something you looked forward to every day.

Which is why you looked back down at your phone despite San’s obvious disapproval.

| mingi: you work at arriba’s right?

| you: uhh…yeah? who told that? and why?

| mingi: no one told me. ive just seen you there a lot

| mingi: and you said you were working tonight so i wanted to know if i could pick you up after your shift

| mingi: my roommate’s gone tonight. thought maybe we could watch a movie or whatever. we’ll have the place to ourselves

Holy shit. He was inviting you over. You’d only been talking to him for a week, but you were starting to wonder if texting back and forth was going to be the extent of this…thing…the two of you had going on.

| you: riiiight… watch a movie…

| mingi: we can do whatever you want baby

| mingi: i don’t give a shit about the movie. i just wanna see your pretty face

You glanced over at San, who was still vigorously mopping the floors in the kitchen. There’s no way you could have Mingi pick you up without him noticing. He was your ride home anyway. You didn’t want to lie to him either though. Which meant you’d have to face the humiliation of telling him you were going over to “watch movies” with the guy he was desperately trying to get you to avoid.

But you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to see Mingi. And you’d be lying even more if you said you just wanted to watch a movie with him. You were trying so hard, though, to make him keep playing this game. To see how far he was willing to go. How much he was willing to chase you.

You couldn’t help it, though, that every time he texted you thought back to him dancing with you at the bar. His hands on your waist and your back. His lips brushed up against your ear. The strands of his dark hair between your fingers.

Noticing your silence, Mingi messaged you again:

| mingi: please baby? i really want to see you

| mingi: i’ll even pick up some takeout on my way to get you

| mingi: and i’ll drive you home tomorrow i promise

Tommorow? Well fuck. You really weren’t sure at first if he wanted you to spend the night, but that much was clear now. Sure, you probably wouldn’t get done at Arriba’s until midnight, but you thought maybe he’d just drive you home super late. But spending the night? Well, that just added a whole new level of intrigue.

| you: fine, i get off at 12. don’t be late

| mingi: wouldnt dream of it

San was still mildly upset at you as the night went on. Well, upset wasn’t really the word, he was more worried you were gonna get your heart broken which you assured him wouldn’t happen because there were no feelings really involved here. Hell, you hadn’t even met up outside the bar yet.

But San’s poor attitude made it significantly harder to bring up this evening’s plan.

“Hey, um,” you started, not looking at him as you wiped down the table in front of you, “I, uh, don’t need a ride home tonight.”

You glanced up to see that he’d stopped wiping down his table.

“Ok,” he responded, resuming his cleaning.

You cringed, that response was almost worse than a lecture, and you told him that.

He shrugged in response, “You’re an adult. I’m not going to tell you what to do. I can strongly advise you against certain things, but I’m not going to stop you,” he met your eyes, “If he makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, though, please call me, ok?”

You nodded.

“I won’t lecture you at all. I’ll just come get you.”

"Thank you, Sannie,"

✭✭✭✭

After counting down the cash and setting the alarm, you were both ready to go for the evening. You checked your phone for the time. 12:14. Below it, of course, was a message from Mingi:

| mingi: im here

[attachment: 1 image]

| mingi: and ive got food

You bid your friend farewell with a hug. When you stepped out into the parking lot, you saw Mingi leaning up against the hood of his car, food in hand. San’s eyes burned into the back of your head as you made your way over to him. Actually, you had more reason to believe he was staring at Mingi rather than at you.

He pushed himself off his car when he saw you coming. He held the food out to you, grinning.

“What’d you get?” you asked, taking the bag from him.

He shrugged, “Just some chicken. I wasn’t sure what you liked. There’s fries in there too, and I’ve got a Coke in the car if you want it.”

“Thank you.” “Not a problem, baby,” he glanced over your shoulder, “Although…is your friend gonna be alright? He won’t stop staring.”

The butterflies you got seeing him call you “baby” over text were nothing compared to the pure giddiness that came from hearing it out loud.

Of course, though, you had to remind yourself that you were far from the only girl whom he’d called “baby” with that voice you’d come to obsess over. This wasn’t about the use of a pet name, it was about how his voice really got you going. But just maybe you did enjoy him calling you “baby.”

“Don’t worry about him. He just doesn’t like you very much.”

“Oh, how refreshing,” Mingi rolled his eyes, but his smirk didn’t go unnoticed by you.

✭✭✭✭

After pulling his car into the parking lot and leading you up four flights of stairs (apparently, the elevator has been broken for months), you arrived at the door of Mingi’s apartment. He pulled the key from his pocket, unlocking the door and pushing it open. He turned around to usher you through the door.

“Here she is,” he mumbled.

You laughed a little, “You refer to your apartment as a ‘she.’”

He shrugged and laughed a little with you, not providing any explanation at all.

You took a glance around the apartment, other than the bedrooms, you could see the whole thing from where you stood in the doorway. It was small, but it definitely was an adequate living situation for two college students on a budget. You walked through the kitchen, setting the leftover food on his counter since you had eaten most of it on the drive here.

When Mingi disappeared into his bedroom, you froze just a bit. He’d seemed super casual over the phone. It was obvious that he definitely wanted to have sex with you but not at all like he’d try to force it out of you. You were kind of under the impression that the ball was in your court on that one. Maybe you had misread the situation.

Despite your confusion, you made a couple of steps toward his room only to see him emerge from the room moments later with some clothes in his.

“I figured you might want to change out of your work clothes,” he says, pushing the change of clothes into your arms. It was nothing special, a black tee and some gray basketball shorts. “If you want you can use the shower too. I cleaned it yesterday, too, so you don’t have to worry about anything.” He laughed, scratching the back of his head.

You were a little thrown off by his demeanor. Maybe the flirty Mingi you had previously been interacting with had an on-and-off switch, because, right now, he was just treating you like a friend who was crashing at his place for the evening. Not at all like the Mingi who you’d been talking to all week who was desperately trying to get into your pants.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I actually wouldn’t mind taking a shower.”

✭✭✭✭

After you had finished your shower and, mostly, dried your hair, you and Mingi sat together on the couch. His arm rested behind your shoulders as he scrolled through different shows on the TV.

Holy hell he smelt good. You couldn’t tell if it was just good hygiene or cologne or maybe even just fabric softener, but, nonetheless, you couldn’t help but breathe in and lean closer into his side. When he felt you lean closer, the arm around your shoulder pulled you in just a bit closer. You glanced up at his face which was still focused on the screen in front of you. Illuminated solely by the television screen and the faint light in the kitchen behind you. Your eyes traced his profile watching how his eyelashes fluttered and his tongue absentmindedly played with his lips. They looked soft. Really soft.

Forcing yourself to stop looking at his lips, halting the dirty thoughts that began clouding your mind, you looked back up at his eyes which were focused on the screen ahead of you. Light from the TV reflected off the glassy surface of his eyes. He truly was beautiful.

In all honesty, you felt yourself falling into dangerous territory here. Everything about this situation, him buying you dinner, letting you wear his clothes and use his shower, cuddling on his couch while his roommate was out of town. All of it screamed couple. Right? Why was he treating you like a girlfriend? You knew for a fact that wasn’t his angle here. Or at least you thought. God this was so frustrating. Why couldn’t you just relax and enjoy yourself in the arms of a beautiful man? This is why you never went home with guys. You would spend the entirety of your night micromanaging your thoughts and overanalyzing the situation.

Subconsciously, in the midst of your chronic overthinking, you had pulled away from Mingi just a little, but it was enough for him to notice and look down at you.

“You good?” he asked. Setting the remote down on the couch next to him.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. Maybe I should kiss him. You thought. That would make it clear what you wanted. Give him some indication. No that’s a terrible idea. And an impulsive one, too.

He found your speechlessness endearing. He laughed softly and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, brushing your jaw with his fingers and swiping his thumb softly across your cheek.

Well, fuck. You lost all restraint over yourself in that moment.

Holding his hand against your face with your own, you leaned into him and kissed him. He hummed into the kiss, smirking slightly as his moved with your own. His lips were just as soft as you imagined. Like velvet when they passed over yours. And fuck he tasted good, you could tell he had definitely freshened up while you were in the shower.

You sighed even further into the kiss when his hand moved down to your neck. Throwing one leg over his lap, you straddled his waist. He kissed you even harder now. Playfully biting your bottom lip. Pulling at it before kissing your chin. Then your jaw. Down your neck. All the way to your collarbone.

His hands dug into your hips much like they had when you had danced together the weekend prior. Your hands gripped his t-shirt. Failing to contain your anticipation.

“Baby,” he whispered, the depth of his voice shot straight to your core, “how far do you wanna take this?”

You whined, grateful he was defining boundaries but overwhelmed with the fact you had to tell him how you wanted it, “Please, Mingi.” You breathed out a heavy breath, “I need you.”

He smirked, his demeanor changed ever so slightly. Noted. You thought. He liked it when you begged. “Come on, baby. Tell me what you want.”

Burring your face in his neck and gripping his shirt tight, you rolled your hips. Grinding your core into him, “Mingi,” you moaned softly, “You’ll make me feel good, right?”

“Of course,” and apparently that was enough for him because, in the next moment, he pulled the shirt you were wearing over your head. Leaving your bare chest exposed to him.

He shifted you slightly. Motioning for you to lay back on the couch. You did, and he was quick to start kissing at your chest. His lips brushed over you collar bone. He kissed down your sternum and reached your belly button before coming back up to kiss your breasts.

You gripped his hair as he pulled a nipple into his mouth. Biting at it as he massaged the other one with his hand. He wasn’t wearing his rings right now, but you could only imagine how it would feel. The cold metal against your skin.

With his mouth occupied, you felt a hand slip under the waistband of your shorts and past your panties. You gasped, loudly, when he slid his finger through your folds. He hummed contently when you arched your back into him as he slid the finger into you. Adding another soon after you.

His thumb played with your clit. Slowly. You could tell he wasn’t trying to make you cum right now. He was doing his do-diligence and prepping you. You had no doubt that he could make you cum if he wanted to or else he wouldn’t be so popular with women. You had heard stories about nights with Mingi, and everyone was always overwhelmingly positive about his skills in bed.

Your eyes rolled back slightly when he slipped a third finger into you. Mouth open in a silent moan that came out as nothing more than a little whine, you threw back your head.

Shortly after though, he pulled his fingers out of you. He pulled off your shorts and panties together before ridding himself of his own pants and underwear too. Fuck, he was big. He smirked when he saw you looking, “You can take it. Right baby?”

You nodded breathlessly, “Mhm.”

When he hovered back over you, you gripped at his shirt. Trying to pull it over his head. He helped you out. Reaching behind his back to pull the tee over his head. You would have spent more time admiring his build but he was back to kissing you in an instant. His kisses made you so dizzy. You probably could have just kissed him for hours if you weren’t so undeniably horny.

You were so focused on his lips that you didn’t even notice when he’d slipped on a condom. You whined when he slid his length between your folds. He held down your hips when you started to roll them. Begging for something to touch your clit that was almost throbbing for attention.

“Don’t be so greedy, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

And that he did. The moment he slid into you, you lost all control of yourself. Your nails dug into his back as he thrust into you. Painfully slow at first.

“Please,” you begged, “faster…” You wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him closer.

His thumb furiously rubbed at your clit as he thrust into you. Faster and deeper with every movement of his hips. You gripped at anything you could, his shoulders, his hair, his back.

You were so undeniably lost in your own pleasure. Your mind was foggy. All you could think about was this beautiful man, furiously fucking you, grunting in your ear, and breathing on your neck.

Even though you thought it was impossible, his thumb moved fasted on your clit. When he hit just the right angle you cried out, and he could feel you tighten around him.

“Oh?” he asked between pants, “Right there?”

“Fuck! Yes, right there!” your head lolled to the side as you felt your orgasm approaching. Your legs shook as they wrapped around his waist, holding him close. With one final movement of his thumb, you came around him. Your walls fluttered as you reached that incredible high. “Oh god!” You cried out.

“Shit,” he grunted, “I’m close, baby. Hold on.” With a couple more thrusts into your sensitive pussy, he came into the condom.

He fell forward on top of you. His arms or either side of your head held him up so he wasn’t crushing you. Your chests both heaved.

“Wow,” you said, breathlessly.

He laughed and kissed you softly, “Was it good?”

You nodded, “Great.”

When you looked into his eyes, his beautiful eyes, you momentarily forgot that you were not supposed to get your feelings wrapped up in this. Sirens rang in your head as he kissed you again, but, if he was gonna fuck you this good, you could ignore them for just a little longer.

✭✭✭✭

note ✭ ayyeeee it's done!! i honestly don't know how considering i have midtrems this week 😅 anyways, this has been in the drafts for about two months, and i'm glad i finally decided to start it!

if you enjoyed, please let me know! i absolutely LOVE hearing feedback whether it be through my inbox, comments or reblogs.

not sure when the next chapter will be released, but if you want to join the taglist you can lmk here or sign up here :)

#ateez smut #ateez x reader #mingi x reader #mingi smut #song mingi series #song mingi x reader #everyonewooeverywhere

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saerins · 1 year

Text

─── 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄

+ sae x f!reader | wc 4.9k | content: angst, fluff, some making out, implied sex, stupid teenager phase

notes: sobs this was not supposed to be this long … one of y’all need to stop me from writing about this man !! i love him too much, pls send help </3 extra: this is the song playing in the last scene :’)

summary: sae has few interests, and one of them is you. but sometimes, being special just isn’t enough.

you’ve always been special.

ever since age three when your family moved across the street from where the itoshis lived. ever since age five when you finally gathered the courage to talk to the pair of brothers. ever since age six when sae invited you to play with him and rin. ever since age seven when you cried because someone bullied you at the playground and sae wiped away your tears. ever since age ten when both of you played with paper rings. ever since age eleven when you and sae would talk endlessly at night through the phone and get nagged at by your parents when they found out.

ever since age twelve when you told sae you’d watch him become the best soccer player in the world by his side.

your presence bleeds into sae’s life and he can’t think about anything without relating it to you; like how his breakfast tastes like ass when you’re not smearing your stupid peanut butter on it because apparently peanut better goes well with everything is your phase at that point of time. like how he’s walking home and he’ll always have to crane his head to the right just to check if you’re on your front porch swing, because if you are, he’ll wave and then you’ll smile and wave back, and sae would feel like it’s a special code you two share.

you’re probably the only thing he pays his spare attention to. and rin. you, rin, soccer. that’s all.

you complain way too much, especially at the fact that sae doesn’t smile often. he counters, “that’s none of your business.”

and you tell him one day you’ll be the reason he smiles everyday.

sae thinks it’s kind of stupid though, because you already are. you just aren’t around to see it. he’ll probably never let you see it too. he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he did.

it isn’t long before you’re age fifteen and graduating middle school and you’re excited to start high school. it didn’t really make a difference for sae, as long as he got to play soccer, he really couldn’t care less.

when you’re age sixteen you tell sae that a boy from class broke your heart because he didn’t accept your valentines’ chocolates. it was as good as a rejection, apparently. or whatever girl code says it is.

frankly, sae’s just offended. you’ve never given him any valentines’ shit. all of a sudden some no name guy is getting it?

maybe it’s true what people say, teenage girls cry over stupid things they consider love that’s not actually love. now you’re getting his soccer jersey wet with your tears and you’re crooning on and on about how boys suck but somehow sae’s still the best.

you’re sixteen and crying on sae’s shoulder, while he’s seventeen and wishing he could torture the son of a bitch who made you cry.

this is the closest you’ve ever been, physically. your heart’s not really broken because whoever you’re crying about has never really had it. but sae doesn’t know that.

teenage girls make really stupid decisions sometimes. and other times, they making stupid passing comments, like when you say “glad i didn’t let him kiss me. would suck for my first kiss to be with a dick who didn’t give a shit about me.”

sometimes teenage boys make stupid decisions too.

sae doesn’t really know what possesses him to do this, but he doesn’t stop it. he doesn’t stop his hand from reaching out to you, doesn’t stop his fingers from tilting your chin up. there’s only confusion in your eyes when he looks into them. there’s only hesitation in his.

sae’s not anything to you except for a childhood friend, and you’re not anything to him, except for one of the most beautiful people he’s ever met. that’s why he does this slowly, so you have time to stop this.

he has no right to do this. he wishes you would just stop him.

you’re both teenagers when sae becomes your first kiss, when your tears stain his cheeks and he tastes like the fruits he just ate. you’re both delirious off of the feeling, like neither of you want this to end because your lips stay connected even when you’re not moving, and your lashes are fluttering against one another’s and sae really wants to kiss you again.

but it’s late and your parents are probably the ones knocking on his door right now so he stops himself and pulls away while rin bounds down the stairs to open the door.

sae sees nothing but you, you and your pretty face and your pretty lips and your perfect perfect person.

“there, now your first kiss is with a dick who does care about you.”

it’s that same summer and you’ve forgotten all about the stupid boy that supposedly broke your heart. you have sae with you whenever he’s free, when he decides to bring you out after practice and explore rooftops to find the best view for the fireworks.

you’re not together, but it sure feels like you are.

then it’s autumn and the leaves are turning orange and red, and you swear you see sae’s cheeks and ears turn nearly the same shade when he holds your hand for the first time as you walk through the park, a white cat crossing in front of you.

sae blames it on his practice earlier and that he’s tired because there’s no way he’ll ever admit it’s because of you.

when winter comes, sae’s still taking care of you. nothing stops him from playing soccer, but nothing can stop him from finding you either. sae’s starting to regret his decisions when you force him to go ice skating and look at him expectantly whenever you see a mistletoe.

you’re a lot of work, maybe you’re worth it.

and then you kiss him again and he thinks yes, maybe he can do this. he can juggle soccer and you, it’ll magically work out.

finally it’s spring and you’re excited because you love the cherry blossoms, and sae thinks maybe he loves something else but he’s not going to go there yet. and while everyone’s watching the solar eclipse that one night, sae’s watching you.

for once, he wants to believe in superstitions, wants to believe what watching the solar eclipse means.

“what’s the matter?”

you’re always so perceptive. you’d make a great playmaker, he feels.

of course you pick up on the tension, barely a minute after you walk into his room. sae doesn’t want to ruin this, whatever this is, whether it’s love or something less, or maybe something more.

but it’s not a democracy, and the answer is crystal clear in sae’s mind. his answer’s always been the same, but it’s not like you don’t exist in his world.

“the club in spain gave me an offer.”

that’s all he needs to say to make you understand. and if you weren’t the most understanding person he knows, you might’ve reacted differently, but you’re still the same supportive, kind girl he met at age four.

“when do you go?” your voice is shaky and he knows you’re trying to hold it together.

sae’s sorry, really.

“next month.”

it’s not a lot of time, but probably enough to say goodbye. then you throw your arms around him and you work your magic, you say you want to try despite the distance, despite the unknown timeline. and who is sae if not someone who’d give it a try?

he’s not even sure he can ever say no to you.

it doesn’t seem real until the night before he leaves, because you’re eighteen and standing in his near barren room, everything already packed into boxes and loaded.

maybe it’s the fact he’ll be gone for a very long time, doesn’t know when he’ll see you again. maybe it’s the adrenaline rushing through his veins when he feels you pressed up against him. maybe it’s the fact he’s denying the depth of his feelings for you and it’s getting him frustrated.

or maybe it’s because he’s selfish and he doesn’t want anyone else to have you, just like how he gave you your first kiss.

he’s your first kiss, and he’ll be your first time, with your hands clawing at his clothes. and you’ll be his, with the way he’s grabbing onto your bare back so desperately.

you’re eighteen and you think nothing’s prettier than the sounds sae makes, especially when his lips are right next to your ear, with his hot breath fanning against you.

sae’s nineteen and he thinks you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted, in all sense of the word. he thinks you look pretty in pink, still pretty when you wear nothing too.

and suddenly sae thinks that maybe it doesn’t feel so crazy to think that the both of you might make it through this.

long distance can work for some people. but sometimes it’s just meant to drive two people further away.

sae’s gaining momentum in europe, and you’re proud of him. you’re proud of your boyfriend, doing his best and showing off his talents and having his hard work pay off.

you’re really, genuinely happy for him. but the bigger of a star he is, the further away he feels, and maybe it’s selfish of you to want him here, to want him to be just your neighbour itoshi sae like how things started out.

maybe it’s selfish and wishful thinking, but you can’t help yourself.

sometimes sae doesn’t even have time to look at his phone. he’s tired and overwhelmed and understandably too. and you feel guilty everytime you subject him to your insecurities.

but you’re nineteen and you don’t know better.

rin’s not much fun to hang around with, especially when he got more stoic and awkward. he’s like a mirror of his brother, and that may fool a lot of people, except you knew him before that. but you’re not going to butt your head in things that don’t concern you, so you leave him be.

and suddenly the itoshis seem further away than they’ve ever been. for the first time in your life, you’re not sure if trying will be enough anymore.

sae misses you. that’s whenever he has the free time to think, when he’s not hounded by trainings after trainings, when he’s not busy from day to night with whatever new training regime they’ve got him on.

is he aware that he’s probably being the world’s worst boyfriend now? yes. but sae can’t force himself to choose that over his dreams. can’t force himself not to choose soccer.

[17:08] she’s fine, idk what you’re worried about.

rin’s message doesn’t alleviate his worries. sae knows you better than anyone, and he doesn’t believe you’re fine.

[08:08] hey sae :)

[17:34] going to bed now, gn!! <3

sae stares at your message for a while in the locker room, while everyone else is showering. you’ve cooled off on the pet names, you’re worried you’re overstepping. you’re worried he’s lost his feelings.

he’s not.

he’d be crazy to.

but he can’t find the energy to convince himself that this would turn out fine. he can’t convince himself that he’s not hurting you every single day by not being able to be everything you need, by not being able to be physically there for you.

this half-assed relationship isn’t what you deserve. and where he is right now, with his bird’s eye view of the world, he doesn’t know if he can ever give you anything else.

[17:49] goodnight. call you tomorrow.

the moment sae breaks up with you, you feel like that kid at sixteen all over again, except this time you don’t have your favourite person’s shoulder to cry on and this time it’s actually love.

all you can think of when you hear him pick up the phone is that morning right before he left for the airport, how his hair’s a mess and how his lashes are way too pretty and how he sounded when he’s all groggy and tired.

but then he tells you the one thing you do not want to hear, and the illusion is shattered into pieces.

“this isn’t working out.”

“what are you talking about?” he’s silent, and you’re anxious. “we’re fine, sae.”

you can hear him sighing over the phone. you so desperately want to fix this, and so does sae but he can’t think of anything more selfish than to ask you to wait for him until he’s ready—he knows what’s the right thing to do. it sucks, but he’s made up his mind.

“that’s bullshit, y/n,” he responds, calmly, and you feel him slipping further and further from you.

“i- look, i-i know it’s hard but we can—”

“give it a break, woman,” sae chuckles, low and deep, and you’re beginning to doubt that you know him at all right now. “we’re done.”

the dial tone is all you can hear after that.

twenty years old is where you have your first actual heartbreak.

and all that talk about how time heals all feels like bullshit when you’re right in the middle of it all. five days in and you’re still a wreck. twenty days later and you’re still staring at the pictures you and sae took together. a month passes and you’re visiting the places you went to together. just a sad, pathetic girl crying on the benches, reliving what she once had.

three months later you’re still watching his matches on tv. you’re still cheering for him inside. four months later and it’s sae’s birthday and he doesn’t even respond to your birthday message. half a year after the breakup and you finally stop crying when you think of him.

but it’s easy to delude yourself when you’re not in the presence of what you grieve. because eight months after you broke up, you see reports that sae’s dating a sports photographer. the next few days, a picture is released of them kissing in a restaurant.

then you get glimpses of other girls being able to be intimate with him. other girls getting to taste his lips and feel his love. other girls getting his attention when that right used to solely belong to you.

and you’ve never felt worse.

“why so glum?”

sae blinks at the woman, indifferent. he can’t even remember her name.

“nadia,” she says, like she’s reading his goddamn mind, holding her hand out. “i’ve been your team’s photographer for a few months now.”

sae shakes her hand out of courtesy because he really doesn’t want his publicist to chew him out again. “didn’t ask.”

“you know, you’re a lot more crabby these days,” she comments, and it’s like he can see the lightbulb going off in her head. “oh, is it girlfriend issues?”

“i don’t have one, so shut it.”

“come on, i promise i’m good at making people forget.” she says this so seductively that sae’s a little disturbed. he just wants to get this shoot done with and go home, maybe even check up on you a little. all in incognito mode, of course, because he can’t risk you knowing he still cares. can’t risk getting your hopes up.

somehow the stars have spent all their time aligning sae’s soccer career and everything else is in tatters because his publicist forces him to take nadia up on her offer and go out with her.

what was supposed to be a one time thing turned out to be something more. she wasn’t even close to you, but she could be close. turns out when he’s not being such a dick, nadia can be moderately interesting.

different, maybe that’s what he needs.

he thinks back to when she kissed him on their first date. sae still finds himself hoping you didn’t see that.

but no, he’s not in love with you anymore. sae’s officially an adult at twenty-one and he’s still the same stubborn guy in denial because he’s looking at pictures of you while nadia’s sitting right next to him.

it’s not healthy, it really isn’t.

you’re twenty-one now and you’re actually going on a date with the sole intention of trying to get over the one and only itoshi sae.

can you even trust your friend? all you know is that the guy is a friend of a best friend’s and that’s all she told you.

“my best friend’s a good guy, so by extension, so is his best friend,” was all she said.

now you’re here, at the amusement park, waiting for your date to show himself because apparently, in your friend’s bid for suspense, she was reluctant to share anything about him except that he’s dreamy and pretty and that his friend describes him as a genius.

and also “oh, he’s a soccer player too so that’s right up your alley, right?”

when the call from date guy comes in (because to stop you from profiling your date she also didn’t give you his name), you kind of like his voice.

“hey, where are you?”

you find out his name is nagi. and that he’s only here because reo stole his switch and he won’t give it back until the date’s over. which kind of works because you tell him you’re only here because you wanted to get over someone.

to which he says it’s a hassle.

there’s nothing you expect out of this, but then you find yourself enjoying your date.

it’s clear by the first fifteen minutes why nagi chose this place to meet. he’s absurdly good at games. he’s won you tons of plushies that you had to give away to some very happy kids. it’s a pattern; every game that he doesn’t know, he only loses once and then he proceeds to dominate.

no wonder his friend calls him a genius.

with nagi it’s easy, fluid. you’ve been spending the whole night there with him, playing together and eating together—well, mostly it’s just you feeding nagi because it turns out he finds a lot of things a hassle.

three days later, you find out that apparently you’re not a hassle in his books. not really, because he asks you out again.

it’s irrational.

sae shouldn’t be this bothered, but he is. he hates seeing your stupid updates about how you’re on a date with this nagi guy. he hates seeing your posts with the two of you wearing matching sweaters for christmas.

he gives it a like.

nadia’s already gone. sae doesn’t have time or energy to waste on people that don’t matter. and you shouldn’t matter. not right now. but here he is, wishing the circumstances were different.

if you and nadia switched places. if you had something to bring you to spain. it’s fucking selfish, he knows. doesn’t stop him from wishing for it. he can’t think of anyone else like how he thinks of you. doesn’t want to.

he really is clueless about everything outside of soccer, because he’s twenty-two when he realises that no one could ever make him forget about you, and maybe he should just live with it.

sae turns twenty-three when he’s in the running for being the world’s best midfielder. he’s gotten rid of the hopes of moving on and he’ll just fake it till he makes it.

maybe that’s why this year is particularly special to him. or maybe it’s because for the first time in a long while, you wish him happy birthday.

at midnight, in japan. because you’re thoughtful that way.

this time he responds.

thanks. how r u?

it’s criminal how easy it is for you to get his heart beating like this. he sees you typing and it’s enough to lift his mood.

great, school’s kicking my ass though.

sae finds himself wishing that he could hear your voice right now. for some stupidly non-complex reason that he finds completely absurd.

i saw your match last week, good game, genius.

fuck. after all this time, he still wants you.

his fingers type i miss you, just for the hell of it. just to see it there on his screen before he inevitably deletes it and replaces it with something mediocre like thanks or i know.

because he can’t just say that after being the one who broke things off. he can’t do that when he still thinks it won’t work out.

all he does is sigh and hit the delete button—except fuck, he accidentally hit send. and he would’ve deleted it if you weren’t already online and read it and he sees you typing for a moment before you stop completely and go offline.

sae has never felt more numb.

it’s been three months since sae said he missed you. you still can’t get that out of your head. the most upfront he’s been about his feelings and he chooses then of all times to be honest?

when your boyfriend was right beside you?

maybe it was your fault. you didn’t even know why you wished him a happy birthday. maybe you missed him too and was just lying to yourself.

god, maybe you’re the asshole in this after all. did you really love nagi? or was he just exceptionally well at making you forget? you really really like him, that’s all you know.

“hey, what’s wrong?” nagi’s looking at you, pushing his hair back, and you can’t help but think you’re lucky to have him these past few months.

but the turmoil inside you wins, and maybe you understand a little bit of how sae felt that night when he broke up with you.

it’s not fair to nagi for you to do this, but it’s not fair to him either to keep him around.

“we need to talk.”

it’s a surreal feeling, to be back in japan.

sae was nineteen when he left. now he’s twenty-seven when he breathes the tokyo air again. he lugs around his carry-on baggage because he’s not staying here for long. not yet. he’s coming back soon, and he doesn’t really know why. he’s milked everything he could from spain, from the rest of europe, some of the americas, and maybe he’s homesick now.

plain and simple.

the cab driver asks him why he looks so sharp, and he simply says, “wedding.”

it’s been seven years since he broke up with you. and your grip on him is as firm as ever. a grip he’ll never let you know you have on him because he’s made this mistake before—said i miss you and then scared you away.

by the next day he couldn’t even find you online because everything is wiped and maybe you hate him, hate his guts. that’s fine. he can live with that.

to him, you’re still the same lovable person as you were at age five. still the same girl at age sixteen that he fell in love with. you’re still his person and it’s fine if he has to just admire you from afar.

when he arrives, he takes a long hard look around the room, filled with guests socialising and drinking their wines and it’s so pathetic but he’s wondering if you’re still around. he’s late, and it’s his plane’s fault but it’s no use playing the blame game.

“hey,” rin calls out when he sees his brother. “you missed the ceremony.”

“yeah, stupid plane got delayed,” sae says, mind still distracted.

rin formally introduces his new wife to sae and she seems nice, polite, the kind that can put his brother in his place if she needs to. that’s nice. sae can’t help envisioning you in the wedding dress though. you’d look nice.

nicer if he was the one beside you.

“oh! as a gift to my now brother-in-law, i have a friend i want to set you up with,” she grins, and as much of an ass that sae is, he just figures he’ll reject the poor girl later. for now, he’ll entertain his new sister-in-law.

rin claps him on the shoulder before smirking and walking off, presumably to get a drink because no matter how much rin has changed, sae doubts he’ll ever become friendly enough to mingle in this crowd.

sae feels someone poking his shoulder and turns around, first to find his sister-in-law grinning from ear to ear, and next to find you next to her, just like he remembers.

pretty in pink, stupid bashful smile, still fucking beautiful.

“have fun,” rin’s wife says before she walks off with a knowing look. she’s already winning points with sae for bringing you to him.

“hey, genius,” you try to suppress your smile but it’s not working.

he thinks he’s dreaming. he’s not. he’s here. and so are you. and this might just be what he missed all this time.

you hold your hand out and he takes it wordlessly, obediently. sae follows you to the dance floor, trying to calm his erratic heartbeats, savouring the feeling of your hand in his once again, remembering that moment back in autumn when he first felt it.

when you wrap your hands around his neck and he wraps his around your waist, it feels like finally, something is real. like there’s something in this country that can really keep him here this time. because now he’s twenty-seven and he finally understands, he’s always loved you but he’s never been ready until now.

“can’t believe you let your brother get married before you,” you say, sarcasm because you’re breaking into a grin. “he actually beat you at something.”

sae pouts slightly, averting his gaze. “what’s the big deal anyway?”

you shrug. “i’d have thought you’d be the first. maybe with one of the girls you met abroad or something.”

there’s a certain bitterness in your tone that he likes, only because it means you minded all this time. the thought of him with someone else. he suddenly remembers something, and searches the room for a familiar face.

gray eyes meet his teal ones before they turn away, disinterested.

“you sure your boyfriend won’t mind you dancing with your ex?”

“probably not, since i don’t have one.” you smirk, sensing the bitterness in his tone too. it’s funny, seeing sae jealous like this.

he has no reason to though, since you broke up with nagi after being honest with yourself—that you’re not over sae and you probably never will be. you’d decided to just live with your decision.

“shame. thought you guys looked cute in those matching sweaters.”

so that was a jealous like, you think to yourself.

“thought you looked cute with that sports photographer girl too, kissing and all,” you say, though it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. “why didn’t that work out?”

for the first time in his life, sae decides to be outright honest with you—

“because she’s not you.” because everytime she said his name, he’d overlay it with your voice in his head. because everytime she’d tried to get close, he’d resent her more for not being you. because no matter how hard anyone tries, they will never be you and that will never work, not for sae.

—to a certain degree.

he’s twenty-seven when he’s finally old enough to understand that it was never a problem with feelings because he’s always loved you all the same all this time. it was just a matter of being ready at the right time. it’s like luck in the world of soccer, where coincidences can only fall to those who are prepared.

and he’s here now. he’s ready.

call him crazy for thinking you’re on the same page because you’re getting closer and closer and closer.

“itoshi sae,” you whisper his name against his lips and he’s reminded of the first time he had you. you drive him crazy and he thinks he’ll keep on letting you. “i missed you too.”

you did. you used to be too young and inexperienced to put yourself in sae’s shoes. too young and naive thinking emotions were enough for two people to stay. sometimes, some things just aren’t meant to be… in the moment. and other times, when you’re both ready, everything suddenly falls into place.

you were sixteen when sae first kissed you. now ten years later, ten years wiser, you kiss again, and this feels significantly better than before. because now you both know.

sae has known you ever since you were three. and he thinks he’ll keep on knowing you, every day, every hour, every minute. he wants to know you forever. and he’s thinking maybe that superstition worked out after all. maybe it was destined to be like this all along.

two people coming together and falling apart only to end up in each other’s arms.

and he thinks fuck superstition, fuck the white cats and solar eclipses and everything else. even if things threaten not to work, this time he’ll make it work.

sae’s known you for so long he overlooked one simple thing. when he kisses you even deeper and is greeted with your lips smiling against his, he knows.

he hasn’t become the world’s best soccer player yet, but when he does, you’ll be by his side.

one day those paper rings the both of you played with when you were little would be real.

you’ve always been special, and you always will be.

now he’s finally home.

#bllk x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #blue lock x reader #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock angst #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #itoshi sae angst #itoshi sae fluff #૪ aeri’s fics !

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luveline · 2 months

Note

i love the kbd universe so so much! could you please do one where sweet little bethie (☹️) has been getting a hard time from other kids at school/nursery for being ‘weird’/‘different’ and how steve and reader would handle it?? sorry if that’s too specific my lovely! hope you’re having a good day!! 🫶

thank you!! kbd au —steve employs your help when your daughter needs a pep talk. 1.5k

“Why’s my girl so sad?”

“I’m not sad.”

Steve raises his brows at Beth. She looks especially like you when she’s down. It’s sort of sad, thinking about it, how her lips turn like yours would, how she won’t meet his gaze or hold his hand when he tries to intertwine their fingers.

“Aw, honey, don’t tell me tall tales,” he says, no actual scolding in his tone. He sees the shimmer of tears aligned on her bottom lashes and can’t abide her fibs anymore, scooping her off of the couch and into his arms. “Bethieeeee,” he whines, “tell me what’s wrong! You know I hate not knowing everything about you.”

“Dad,” she says, letting her head loll in the curve of his neck, “nothing is wrong.”

Liar, he thinks. From the kitchen he can hear you and Dove and baby Wren singing. Avery potters around in the downstairs bathroom, humming. Steve knows Beth is sad, because Beth is quiet, but she still has as much energy as the rest of her sisters when she’s home. She isn’t introverted when she’s with him, or her mother, and especially not the best big sister in the world.

“Okay,” he says. He should poke and prod. Instead, he lifts her up as high as he can, which, not to brag, is quite high. “Hi up there. How’s the weather?”

She jabs him in the chest with her foot. “It’s windy.”

Steve laughs like an idiot and brings her down for some adoring kisses. “Super windy. Babe, you get funnier and funnier everyday.”

She wraps her arms behind his head. “Thank you.”

“Ooh, you’re welcome. Should we go and sing some songs with mommy?”

Beth shakes her head. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” She sounds like a baby.

Steve sits down with an arm behind her back. He’d quite like a bit of peace and quiet. He doesn’t mind if she needs some too. “Then let’s stay right here, bub, jus’ me and you.”

Dustin once said that Steve was about as much use as a paper cup in a hurricane when it came to comforting people, but that was nearly a decade ago, and it was before he met you. You rushed into Steve’s life (by accident on both sides) and showed him how it felt to be properly looked after for the first time ever. He can’t forget how that felt. Robin loves him but she couldn’t love him like that, couldn’t kiss a bruise and fix it whole, couldn’t ease a migraine with her fingers in his hair. You touch Steve’s arm and he can lift a ten tonner.

He’s more equipped than ever to comfort someone now. He had a good teacher.

“You have a long day today, huh?” he asks.

“Not much.”

He smiles. “Not much long?” he asks.

“Dad,” she grumbles. “You know what I mean.”

“I do… so you didn’t find it too long?”

“I guess.” Beth touches under his chin. “You have sharpies.”

“My stubble? Should I shave tonight?”

“Yes,” she says emphatically. “Don’t like scratchy kisses.”

“Oh, so you wanted more kisses?” he asks. “Would that help you feel better? How about we meet in the middle and get mom to kiss you? She’s not so sharp.”

She sighs, her nose shoved into his collar. “Dad, can you rub my back?”

Steve rubs her back immediately. She makes no other request, lips firmly shut and secret upset sealed away, feeling at his stubble with gentle fingers. She loves foreign sensations like this. It’s why she likes having her back rubbed, Steve theories; the pressure of his hand on her spine is dragging, and grounding.

He shifts against the grain of a cushion behind his back.

“I want to tell you,” Bethie says finally.

“I always want to listen,” he promises.

She doesn’t sound teary, more uncomfortable as she finally forces it out, “Nobody at school likes me.”

“Babe, that’s not true at all.”

“It is true. They all think I’m weird.”

“I bet they don’t, babe.”

“Dad, they all say it.”

Steve bites his cheek as his mouth snaps shut. “Well,” he says quietly, cupping the side of her face, encouraging her head back to meet her eyes. They’re big in her little face, pupils like pearls, “that’s not very nice.”

“It’s true.”

“Not true.”

“It is true,” she says angrily.

“It’s not true, Beth, you’re not weird, and if you are weird then I’m weird, and that’s not a bad thing after all. Is it?”

Internally, it breaks his heart. Beth has been different than the other kids for a long time and in lots of ways. She’s picky, peculiar. She eats things in her own fashion, and has interests outside of her peers. Steve didn’t know she was ‘abnormal’ until people started telling him —she’s his second baby. He didn’t think they were all the same, and so didn’t question her differences, and still doesn’t care to beyond wondering what he can do to make her happy. Who cares if Beth eats two bites of sandwich for every celery stick?

The other kids. Some parents.

“I don’t want to be weird,” she says, hanging her head.

You arrive like a well-timed miracle, shimmying past the half open door with a smile. “Hi, guys. I want you to come and do karaoke, what do you think? I’m making everybody mocktails! We’re having pineapple juice and–” You lean back, hand on your hip, a slip of your stomach peaking out of your tank top, total picture of a cool mom as you cross your naked arms over your stomach. “Oh, no. What’s wrong?” you ask teasingly.

Steve squeezes Beth to his neck. “Hey, none of your business!”

“No, tell me,” you say, crossing the room to sit beside them on the couch.

“You wanna tell her?” Steve asks.

Beth shakes her head. “Didn’t want to tell you, dad.”

“You did, lovely,” he says, all sympathy as you cuddle up to Steve’s side and wrap an arm around them both. “You said you wanted to tell me. It’s okay if you don’t want to tell us again, though. Mommy just wants to make you feel better, right?”

“Right,” you say. When you smile at her, it’s with all the love in the world.

She’s quicker to cry in her mother’s lap. She wiggles closer to your shoulder, her voice fraught as she confesses, “Everybody at school says I’m weird,” and erupts into breathless sobbing, like she’s terrified of the idea.

Your eyes wrinkle as you close them tight, frowning into the top of her head. “Oh, my poor girl. My baby. Please don’t cry, because that’s not true. You’re not weird.”

“Everybody says I am!”

“I’m sorry,” you say, pushing Steve away accidentally as you wrap her into a proper hug. “Who says that?”

“Mom, it’s everyone. Even my friends.”

Kids can be so mean, when they aren’t trying and when they are. You mumble sweet placatives, fingers running up and down the length of Beth’s shuddering back. She cries like she’s hurting. Steve’s reminded of the time she fell down the stairs and hit her face on the baby gate, she was shocked but more urgently in pain, and she couldn’t work out why she’d fallen.

“That’s not nice, Beth,” you’re saying, “I’m so sorry they’re saying mean things about you, but you’re not weird, I don’t know why they’d say something like that. They’re just not as nice as my girl.”

“I’m different,“ she says.

“That’s not a bad thing, Beth. You’re perfect. I wouldn’t want you any other way, and neither would your dad.”

Steve jumps in. “Right! We like you like this, babe. I don’t want you to change, I don’t care what all the meanies at school say, me and mom think you’re awesome. Avery and Dove and Wren all think you’re the best sister and best friend ever. Avery’s your best friend. Has she ever called you weird?”

The baby talk is sinking in. If you used your bubbly voices on Avery it might not work anymore, but Beth is just about young enough for it to take. “No… You really think I’m not weird?” Beth asks sadly.

No kid wants to think they’re weird, even if they are, and even if that’s okay.

You sink down into your seat, taking Beth with you. Steve has to fight to cuddle you both. “I know you’re not,” you say.

For a good five minutes, you just hug her. Steve ends up laying his cheek against your temple, hand on Beth’s back so she knows he’s there. When the baby starts babbling loudly for you to come back, Steve takes the short straw and leaves you both for cuddling.

“What’s up, dad?” Avery asks, standing on a chair by the baby’s high chair, feeding her youngest sister cut up strawberries on a spoon. Dove eats her own strawberries with sliced bananas and peanut butter, the evidence of the latter staining her blue t-shirt.

Steve pats the top of Avery’s head. “Nothing much, baby. I’ve come to make you your mocktail.”

“Oh, yes! With sugar? Bethie loves the sugar.”

She doesn’t know how glad he is that she’s Beth’s big sister. “With the sugar.”

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hazbinwhoree · 4 months

Note

Guardian angel pt.2? I'm already addicted to and love your stuff. Thx! :3

Guardian Angel

Part 2/3 Part 3

A/N: Can anyone guess how I’m gonna end it?

Even if Adam wanted to bring (Name) to the light, which he didn’t, the task would prove nearly impossible anyway. Because Adam was coming to learn that (Name) was quite the little sinner. In only one week, she exhibited each of the 7 Sins.

She got in a fight with her best friend and refused to apologize, even though it meant sacrificing their relationship. Pride.

She spent over a hundred dollars in one sitting online shopping for shit she didn’t need. Greed.

She spent ten minutes going through another girl’s social media page, making snide comments about her as she went. Envy.

She broke a lamp in a fit of rage over, well, Adam didn’t even know what her temper tantrum was about. Wrath.

She kicked Adam out so she could have some “Self Love Time” as she called it. Lust.

She was a glutton not of food, but of weed and alcohol, never satisifed unless she was not sober at least once during her day. Gluttony.

She would spend entire days rotting in her bed, neglecting all responsibilities. Sloth.

Long story short, Adam was pretty certain that were (Name) to die, she had herself a one way ticket down to Hell. The thought bothered Adam, and he realized that it really was up to him to make sure she got into Heaven.

“You’re sinful,” Adam blurted out one day while (Name) was listening to CPR by cupcakKe. (Name) paused the music. “It’s the song, isn’t it.”

“No… well, yes, but not just the song. I’ve seen you commit every single fucking one of the 7 Sins just this week. How do you expect to get into Heaven like that?”

“I don’t,” (Name) shrugged, going to unpause her music.

“You don’t care about going to Hell?” Adam was flabbergasted.

“Not particularly.”

“Well I’m your guardian angel, sweetie, so it’s my job to help you get into Heaven.”

“Really? Cause I don’t even know how you made it into Heaven. Their standards must be pretty low, I have a chance.”

“Oh eat shit,” Adam snapped, narrowing his eyes.

(Name) smirked.

“Have you heard of the Seven Heavenly Virtues?” Adam asked. (Name) looked bored. “I’ve heard of them… don’t know what they are.” “Well you’re going to do something that encompasses each one this week.”

And Lucifer be damned, Adam managed to get her to do something for every virtue.

She apologized to her best friend and they began to repair their relationship. Humility.

She gave a bunch of clothes she didn’t need to her younger cousin. Charity.

She left positive comments on that girl’s social media page. Kindness.

She did breathing exercises the next time she got angry instead of destroying her surroundings. Patience.

She stopped her copious amount of weed and alcohol consumption. Temperance.

She stayed on top of her responsibilities and began taking her job more seriously. Diligence.

Adam was proud of both her, and himself for getting her to do these things. Maybe she had a chance to get into Heaven yet.

“Why is it so important to you that I get into Heaven?” (Name) asked one night at dinner. Adam paused eating. “Uh, cause it’s my job, bitch.” (Name) rolled her eyes. “Yeah but you didn’t start doing your job until recently. What changed?”

“Maybe I never want to have to say goodbye.”

(Name) hadn’t been expecting such a confession. “You want me to go to Heaven… to be with you?”

Adam scowled, embarrassed. “No.”

They fell into awkward silence.

“For what it’s worth,” (Name) said. “I wouldn’t mind spending eternity with you.”

#hazbin adam #adam x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin lute #x reader #fluff

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lol-im-done · 7 months

Text

First Lady of Panem

Pairing: Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: When your family arrived to the Capitol from District Ten to secure their place as one of the most prominent and wealthy families of Panem you could have never dreamed fate would lead you into the arms of Coriolanus Snow. Falling in love was easy, watching him become President and becoming First Lady of Panem at his side would test your limits. Panem's history would forever be changed by this union.

AO3 Link

Author's Note: TW & Tags will be updated as each chapter comes out, first chapter is just to set up the story & characters. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Sky Blue Eyes

Those bluebonnets how sweetly they grow

For all the wide prairies they're scattered like snow

They make all the meadows as blue as the skies

Reminding me of my darlings blue eyes

The cow-filled prairies shifted to mountains signaling the train's entrance into District Two as you hummed to the tune of an old song from before Panem’s creation. The sprawling grass sea of District Ten, of your home, disappeared in the distance as you made your way to the heart of Panem.

“Darling, are you listening to me?”

Lifting your head from the rattling window you turned to see your mother looking at you with soft concern.

“Sorry Mama, what were you asking?”

Her hand smoothed over your younger sister Mellona’s curls, making her nuzzle deeper into her side. “I was asking if you were hungry so I could order lunch.”

“That would be nice Mama. Thank you.”

“Alright, call for Agnes if you need anything she’s in the next car,” your mother stands, lays a snoozing Mellona down, before making her way to the dining car.

“Homesick already?” Victoriosa, the eldest, asks from the chaise never taking her eyes off the magazine in her hands.

“Is it that obvious?”

“We always knew we’d have to move to the Capitol.”

“Why now? I thought at least another year or two,” you asked, sinking into the plush leather seat. Victoriosa pauses, looks up at you and for an instant you can see your father’s intense expression staring back at you.

“Papa wants to finally establish himself as a prominent figure in the Capitol. He needs Capitol support if he is to fully absorb the rest of the ranches, you know that,” she states. “This is also our opportunity to reach our full potential, choose our own paths. Once you finish your career you can always return to Ten if you wish but that would be a waste,” she returns to flipping through her magazine.

“Silva, what do you think?” you turn to your only brother who is seated next to you.

He gives a short shrug. “I don’t mind it much as long as I can continue my research,” Silva sighs from behind his thick textbook.

Victoriosa tilts her lithe neck backwards, “Yawnnnnn.” A snort leaves your lips and you’re grateful your mother isn’t nearby to reprimand you for your ‘unladylike’ behavior.

“Biodiversity is the pinnacle of our success as cattle breeders!” Silva scowls.

“I thought you’d be missing a certain milkmaid Carpathia,” Victoriosa smirks and a wild blush spreads under Silva’s glasses.

“Oh like you’ll be missing your ranch hand Bronco,” Silva snaps back.

“There’s always summertime. Plenty of time to catch up,” Victoriosa grins like the cat who got the cream. The three of you burst into a fit of giggles right as Mellona groggily rouses from her nap.

“Are we there yet?”

Another burst of laughter fills the private train car.

It would only take a few more hours before you arrived at the Capitol train station, nightfall falling over the city. Unlike District Ten, not all the stars were visible, the Capitol’s bright lights polluting the sky. Peacekeepers were already stationed to help move all the luggage into the waiting line of cars. Driving through the streets towards your new home, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at the statues in the squares and the towering buildings. Most of all you were excited to finally see your father, it had been almost a month since you had seen him last.

“Papa!”

All of you crashed into Alicio Lupus’ awaiting arms, his rumbling chuckle bouncing off the high marble ceilings of the penthouse. Refugio joins in on the hug with teary eyes, reaching up to press a kiss on her beloved husband’s cheek.

“Welcome home my darlings,” he squeezes you all tighter. Any fear you held disappeared in an instant, as long as you had your family by your side, all would be well.

The first few weeks in the Capitol had been a whirlwind- meeting other Capitol families for dinner, registration for coveted internships and school courses, and endless shopping trips to assure your home and wardrobes were up to Capitol standards. Refugio Lupus wanted only the best for her children, which included constantly coaching you all to leave behind the District Ten accent that made certain words in your vocabulary drawl.

After dinner one day you thought you had finally caught a moment of peace before a knock at your door startled you from your book. Agnes, your family's nanny, rolled in a rack of dresses with Victoriosa in tow. Victoriosa was already dressed in a sleek blood red dress with a mink shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

“What’s all this?”

“We’ve been invited to a soirée to commemorate the end of the 13th Hunger Games. Papa thinks it’s a good chance to introduce us to others in the Capitol’s high society,” Victoriosa swept her arm towards the rack of glittering and ruffled dresses. Nerves made your stomach churn, mouth turning downwards into a frown as you remembered people’s faces this past week when it was revealed you had recently arrived from District Ten. Most look startled before looking at you like you were some exotic bird at the zoo.

“They’ll never accept us.”

A prideful look crossed her face, so similar to your father’s. No wonder your mother said they were cut from the same stone. “They will once we show them we are as refined as they are. As long as you lose that accent of yours you’ll blend in like a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” she grinned, canines glinting in the light of the chandelier. Rolling your eyes you step over to the rack, feeling the fabrics under your fingers. Stopping at a silver dress, the sequins twinkled like stars entrancing you. Agnes helped dress you before getting to work on sweeping your hair up into a fashionable updo. You waved away the highly pigmented makeup, not ready to delve into that side of Capitol fashion quite yet.

“Remember you’re a Lupus. We’re wolves among sheep,” Victoriosa pinches your cheek. The usual calluses that adorned her hands were gone, chemical treatments making them a long forgotten memory.

Wolves among sheep.

Victoriosa’s words replay through your head like a mantra as you step into the grand ballroom behind her and your father. Thankfully your sister was a gifted extrovert, introducing you to the friends she had already made. Soon you found yourself surrounded by members of the new Gamemaker class, a glass of posca in your hand. It took some time but slowly your shoulders loosened and your smile widened, confidence making you stand a bit taller.

Across the ballroom, Coriolanus Snow was repeating his own mantra to himself- Snow always lands on top. A reminder that showing up for another Capitol soirée wasn’t simply a waste of time but another way to show all these sycophants how high he had made it. Now heir to the Plinth fortune he was dressed impeccably. Tigris had helped style him, no more handmade shirts, and the final touch- Grandma’am’s rose pinned to his lapel. Like at most parties he was surrounded by his former classmates who were all desperate to remain in his inner circle- he was an esteemed Gamemaker after all. A glimmer in the distance caught his eye, distracting him from the meaningless chatter before him. He recognized the group as intern Gamemakers but not the young woman, fresh faced and glowing in the candlelight.

“Who is that?” Coriolanus feigned nonchalance as he tilted his head towards her.

Festus Creed followed his gaze, “Don’t you know?”

“How could he know? The Lupus Family only recently decided to establish here in the Capitol,” Pup Harrington said in between bites of hors d'oeuvres. The name rang a bell, stories and information from his various connections coming to mind.

“I believe that’s (Y/N) Lupus. I saw her the other day with her father, Alicio Lupus, at my mother’s bank” Livia Cardew said, inching closer to Coriolanus. “They practically own all the ranches in District Ten, Alicio Lupus’ brother is the Mayor of the District,” Livia whispered, lips coming close to his ear. Festus and Pup exchange an eye roll at her shamelessness and Coriolanus resisted the urge to shrug her off. Offending a Cardew would never bode well.

“She’s district, probably going back and forth from Ten to the Capitol like one of her family’s pigs,” Livia giggled, but it sounded like grating metal in Coriolanus’ ears.

“Don’t forget cows! Oh Panem, I dream about those steaks-,” Pup practically salivated.

“Imagine living all your life in that District, like poor Sejanus,” Festus tutted. Coriolanus immediately bristled at the mention of Sejanus, his icy blue eyes darkening like an impending storm. Festus must have realized his mistake because his eyes widened, apology on the tip of his tongue before Coriolanus cut him off.

“I should go make her acquaintance then,” he announces, ignoring Livia’s scowl. It was an opportune moment he thought as you now stood by the bar alone. Perhaps you would be desperate enough to try and get in his good graces, and offer to introduce him to your father. Coriolanus would be a fool not to recognize the Lupus family’s wealth and influence, they kept the Districts fed and the Capitol fat. Any potential relationship he could make was more support he could need when he would take a position in the Government.

As you took another swig of posca, you thought you had managed to escape more social interactions for the night until a voice made you jump.

“Hello, I’m Coriolanus Snow. Welcome to the Capitol.”

Turning around you looked up at the man’s captivating eyes, as blue as the sky back home. His pink lips curled slightly at the ends as if he was holding in a secret. Blonde hair pushed back in a neat fashion, accentuating his cheekbones. For a moment you were speechless. Remembering yourself, you gave him your name but you had a feeling he already knew it.

“Pleasure to meet you Coriolanus Snow.”

His stomach swooped. Coriolanus swore he heard a familiar lilt in your voice, but it was not as strong as Lucy Gray’s and those in District Twelve. No, yours was smoother and made your pronunciation of his name sound like it was dipped in warm honey.

“How are you finding the Capitol?”, he forces himself to ask, to ignore those dangerous thoughts.

“It's something...definitely not like back home,” you look around at the extravagant decor.

“Ah yes, District Ten. I’ve never made my way there but I’ve heard wonderful things,” the lie flows smoothly past his lips. “How grateful you must feel to finally be brought to us.”

Coriolanus would never miss a chance at making anyone District born feel inferior, all the posca he had been drinking making him loose lipped tonight. Indignation made your hands tingle, but you took a deep breath and clenched the glass tighter in your hands to ground you.

“I’m surprised you weren’t assigned there as a Peacekeeper. I suppose wherever the songbird called from you followed,” you replied, taking a demure sip from your glass, relishing in the way his jaw tensed. You knew who he was, his story with Lucy Gray Baird. Victoriosa had heard it all from a friend and had no qualms in passing the gossip down to you. If he was going to throw thinly veiled insults you’d have to show him you wouldn’t take them lying down.

“There’s that famous Lupus bite I’ve heard about,” he grins, taking a step closer to you. The scent of roses fills your nose, the sudden proximity to him making a blush rise up your neck. His hand reached out, moving to push a piece of hair behind your ear but the moment was broken when Victoriosa called out for you, pointing to your father who was making his way out the doors.

“If you’ll excuse me it’s time for me to get home. I’m sure our paths will cross again,” you murmured softly, dipping your head in farewell. Coriolanus stepped back with a slight bow, eyes never straying from your figure as you sauntered away. Oh yes, like two stars crossing in the night sky, you would meet again. Coriolanus would make sure of it.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tbosas

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jungshookz · 19 days

Text

yoongi's getting a lot of attention at the mall and y/n doesn't like it very much

➺ pairing; demon!yoongi x y/n

➺ genre; all of the usual demon!yoongi antics & a little more :-)

➺ wordcount; 1.8k

»»————- 🥨 ————-««

something is… off.

you can’t quite put your finger on it, but something is off and you can quite literally feel it in the air

“do you think navy blue washes me out?” jungkook holds a shirt up to show you before pursing his lips, waving his hand in your face when he doesn’t get a response from you, “helloooo-“ you guys came to the mall today to do some shopping but for the last ten minutes you’ve been distracted by something which isn’t helpful to jungkook because he values your opinion when it comes to his style!

“you look great in navy blue and that’s a good shirt for summer, linen is a great material-“ you hold a finger up, turning your head slightly, “do you hear giggling?”

jungkook frowns, shaking his head slightly before looking in the same direction you are, “…no. i just hear generic pop music coming out of a set of shitty speakers- hey, do you think these stores play these songs on purpose so that you’ll shop faster and leave faster?”

“uh-huh, gimme a sec, kook-“ you poke your tongue against the inside of your cheek before spinning around to face the exit, “where did you say yoongi went?”

“oh! he went to get some pretzel bites, i think.”

you weave in between the racks of clothes smoothly, your

your nose twitches as you pick up on the faint scent of yoongi’s cologne and cinnamon sugar (your favourite flavour for pretzel bites, of course) and you step out of the store, your eyes narrowing in suspicion when you spot yoongi heading in your direction

the black button-down he's got on hangs nicely on his frame and as he reaches up with his free hand to push his dark hair back, head tilting as a lopsided smirk makes its way onto his face when he spots you, “did you miss me so much that you had to come out and greet me? i was only gone for like ten minutes.”

you don’t respond, getting up on your tip toes to look over his shoulder only to notice that almost everyone is looking at yoongi, people pausing in the middle of what they’re doing to stare at him with lidded eyes and flushed cheeks

“what the hell…?” you don’t know how yoongi hasn’t noticed the fact that he has people drooling over him, and your face scrunches slightly when you see someone cross her legs and suck her bottom lip into her mouth as she stares at the back of yoongi’s head, “get a room-“

has it always been this bad???

how have you never noticed this???

maybe the reason why you never noticed all these things before is because you just had regular old human capabilities, but ever since you’ve been blessed (or cursed, however you want to see it) with some demonic abilities you’ve noticed a few things have changed about yourself: you can literally float (though, it only lasts a few seconds before gravity takes over), your eyes flicker black whenever you’re really upset, and all of your senses have heightened significantly — like today, you could hear the familiar purr of jungkook’s car from two miles away and he was more than surprised to see that he didn’t have to text you to get you and yoongi to come down like he usually does (you still haven’t broken the news to him that both you and yoongi are… not human, but you’ll get to it eventually)

“what’s wrong?” yoongi frowns, turning to glance over his shoulder, “what are you looking at?”

“people are… looking at you.” your jaw clenches slightly when another girl walks past the two of you, your ears picking up on the sound of blood rushing to her cheeks and her heart skipping a beat, “people are like- like, really looking at you.”

now, you’d like to clear things up and say that you’re not worried about yoongi running off to someone else because you know that yoongi loves you and also the two of you are literally bonded by blood or whatever — you know that yoongi is very attractive and most of the time you’re happy to walk around with him and have him admired by strangers but this is too much

this is like- well, to be honest, it looks like people are just about ready to pounce on yoongi at any given moment and now you feel like you need to defend him

in fact you’re pretty sure you heard someone growl at some point so now you’re wondering if the keys in your purse are going to work as a sufficient tool to ward people away

“of course they’re looking at me.” yoongi snorts, finding it amusing how flustered you’re starting to get, “they… i mean, not to toot my own horn here, baby, but i’m not lying when i say that everyone in this mall wants me to fuck the shit out of them, that’s kinda my whole thing, which, in my defense, you knew when we got together-" his eyebrows raise slightly when you whip your head back around to look at him, your eyebrows set in a glare as your eyes flicker black for a second

oh.

(he likes that.)

“well, i don’t like it.” you grumble, and yoongi knows you must be really upset because you haven’t attacked the cup of fresh pretzels he has in his hand and usually you’ve already popped like eight of them in your mouth

“you’re cute when you’re jealous. and you know i only have eyes for you, you’re being silly-” yoongi smiles, reaching down to pinch your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger to turn your head towards him, “hey, look at me- what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“what’s going on-“ you smack his hand away (yoongi’s demonic charm isn’t as strong now that you’re not entirely human) “is that i think we should buy whatever we need and then go home before everyone starts chasing after you-“

“you know, there is a way to offset the pheromones, or, whatever you wanna call it.” yoongi kisses his teeth, tossing a pretzel up into the air and catching it with his mouth as he chews thoughtfully, “i don’t evphen know what it is. my aura? i don’t know. whatehver demon thing is happening-“ he swallows, “i usually just have to fuck someone. then it takes like thirty minutes before the pheromones come back and everyone’s pining after me again.”

there’s a brief moment of silence between the two of you and the corner of yoongi’s mouth twitches in a smirk when he notices your throat bob as you swallow

“…that’s really the only solution?” you ask suspiciously, “because you got a paper cut last week and you said your body will heal itself faster if you go down on me, which i’m still struggling to see the connection-“

“well that was very obviously a lie, y/n, i just wanted to bury my face in between your legs and you were like, too busy writing a paper but it makes sense in this case, doesn’t it? get some good sex outta my system and people won’t pay as much attention to me because the tension inside of me has been released.”

“hm. i… guess you have a point. and you swear people will stop for a little while if you have sex?”

“pinky promise. but, you know, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want me bending you over in the dressing room. i know you like having privac-“ yoongi stops halfway through his sentence, his own eyebrows furrowing when he picks up on the fact that there’s a group of guys checking you out and almost instantly he feels jealousy swirling in his system

“-nice ass.”

he catches the end of a sentence and his eyes darken as he loops an arm around your waist and tugs you towards him, making direct eye contact with the group, “yeah, and you’re never gonna get your grimy fucking hands on it, you freaks-!” he calls out, and you don’t get much of a chance to say or do anything else before he’s dragging you down the opposite direction, setting the cup of pretzels down atop the garbage bin

“hey- where are we going?? jungkook’s still in the- okay, well, i don’t see why we had to abandon the pretzels, but fine-“

“what do you think? we’re finding a washroom and i’m fucking the shit out of you-"

“see, this is exactly what i was talking about!” you let out a laugh of disbelief at yoongi’s shift in mood as you let him drag you towards the washrooms, “and you had the gall to make fun of me for feeling some type of way about other people staring at you!”

»»————- 🥨 ————-««

(“oh, fuck- fuck me, fuck me-“ you whimper, head dipping as you grip onto both sides of the ceramic sink, your eyelids fluttering shut as yoongi slides a hand from your lower back up before grasping the back of your neck, shoving you downwards as he continues thrusting, very much enjoying the view of your ass bouncing off of him at this angle

“good girl- so fucking good for me, always so good-“ he growls, sweat glistening off his brow bone as he tangles his fingers in your hair, grabbing a fistful before yanking you back up to press your back against his chest, the back of your head slotting against the crook of his neck, “nuh-uh, i want you to watch me fuck you-“

your eyes immediately flicker down and you make eye contact with him in the mirror, your cheeks flushed and lips slick and swollen and god you look hot-

“you- you swear this is gonna- gonna work-" your eyebrows crinkle together as you let out a particularly high moan when yoongi’s hand slides down in between your legs, the tips of his fingers pressing into your sensitive clit

“of course it’s gonna work, my girl.” he grunts, flashing you a boyish grin in the mirror, “don’t you trust me?”)

🎙️ ask y/n and yoongi if they had a good time (talk to my characters!)

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits like this!)

#teeny tidbits #demon!yoongi #demon!yoongi drabbles #yoongi drabbles #min yoongi drabbles #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #bts fics #bts fic recs #yoongi fics #yoongi fic recs #bts author recs #bts writer recs #min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi bts #yoongi fluff recs #yoongi smut recs

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greeniegaes · 1 month

Text

Back at it agains with another svsss au im pulling out of my (slightly) sleep deprived brain

Basically yada yada everything happens as normal UP UNTIL the immortal alliance arc. SQQ gets this searing headache and the system just keeps popping up with errors, so while they are all fighting the spider hoard the system just kinda snaps and breaks. SQQ suddenly feels like he’s hit by a truck, his body starting to act like his sickly Shen Yuan body and his cultivation is tying itself into dead knots and every bone in his body feels like it’s locking up. There’s no system to blame for things as he and LBH confront MBJ and he just has to do his hardest to survive with just his spiritual sword.

And then the worse thing happens, Xiu Ya shatters.

SQQ panics at this, continuing to try his best fighting people off and eventually MBJ leaves *hooray* except not really because all the system errors are getting louder and louder in his head, and everything is blue and blaring and he might be bleeding and he can’t understand what LBH is saying even though he is right there, shaking his body and crying.

And then the abyss opens. He suddenly has the choice. He can send LBH, his white little sheep, down there to continue on with the PIDW plot, or he can… not do that.

So he pushes LBH.

Away from him. Away from the abyssal rift, only for him to be the one that falls though. He had prepared various lesson plans, life advice, what skills people to work on and so much more once he got without-a-cure, just incase he slipped up one day and couldn’t protect himself. So SQQ was satisfied as he knew his peak would be taken care of if LBH opened a specific drawer, everyone could still be taught by the hall masters and also have some future help prepared for each of them.

So SQQ let’s himself fall into the abyss, watching his student’s horrified expression as he plummets. He hears the system disconnect from LBH as he falls, all of the glowing blue error messages and pop ups instantly go away and he’s left in the dark as he sinks further and further into the abyss.

Surprisingly, he wakes up. He landed in the same field of flowers that are the reason LBH didn’t die in the original, they are filled with celestial qi in a place meant to be horrible and deadly. The one good thing about this place. He lays there for awhile and lets the plants essence fix up his meridians.

Then he has to experience the same horrifying things the protagonist did in person, fighting off each beast and trying his damn hardest to survive. It takes him a while, fighting and walking his way through what’s practically hell on earth, slaying beasts ten times his size, making sure not to fall into the trappings of demonic plants. He cuts his long hair, he thinks he will never see his peak again, so what do filial ties matter when you’re barely surviving. Sometimes the worse thing is his own mind, he feels a heavy layer of guilt to himself for so willing going along with the system. He sometimes forgets it’s not his fault too, that he was threatened to return to a dead body if he didn’t do as he was supposed to. But he’s happy sometimes too, he goes back to that field of flowers, laying in them and basking in his memories of a happier LBH, a LQG that isn’t dead, a Qing Jing peak full of song and happy healthy students.

He ascends from the abyss that day. He doesn’t know how or why but he wakes up in the same field of flowers, the sky above him no longer a damning black with red cracks seeping light in. it’s blue, soft, it hurts his eyes almost to look at it. It hurts so much but he can’t look away. He picks himself up, looking at all the grime and blood on himself and weeps in relief that he can go home. He hides his face and asks people where he is, somewhere in HHP territories, and begins to make his way back to his sect. Once he gets to his peak he sits down softly at the gate, it’s night time and there haven’t been many people about. He basks in the feeling of being home, leaning his head against the tall bamboo pole as he falls asleep.

He’s glad tomorrow is a new day, when he can see his family and just go back to his life.

(in the years he’s been gone all of CQS has been in some kind of mourning. LBH found all the letters from his shizun and they made all the disciples of QJP weep. Some of them took the advice given and left, some of them stayed and took care of a lordless peak. None of the hall masters or disciples were qualified to step up, and when the issue was raised even the peak lords agreed he shouldn’t be replaced. It was LQG who found him at the gate, going to visit the sword shrine in the bamboo house after an expedition, going to leave another fan to rot at the shrine’s foot. instead he heaved up his shixiong, hair not even reaching his shoulders, hands callused and dirty, and brought him back to the bamboo house, waking LBH in the process. Once morning light came everyone would know that their lost peak lord came home, but first they had to get the doctor to make sure he actually got through the night)

#svsss #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #svsss shen qingqiu #svsss au #greeniegaes #text post #alternative universe ideas #scum villian self saving system #scum villain #Yuan in Abyss AU

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lainsshop · 4 months

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Tears To Shed ୭ৎ

Pairing: Alastor x Zombie ! Reader

Tags: angst(?), fluff, out of characters(?), established relationship, corpse bride n probably more..

Song: Tears To Shed - Corpse Bride

A/N: I need more Rosie and Alastor interactions to be honest like.. I already miss them😭 anyways please enjoy this!

“Why so blue, dear?” Rosie asks as she puts a cup of tea onto the table. You were currently sitting at Rosie’s lounge feeling melancholy over someones comment to your relationship with Alastor, most of the time you didn’t care but this one- stung in your imaginary heart.

You see, you met Alastor when you two were alive, somehow and someway you both got together and your relationship bloomed to the point he proposed to you but- you got killed before your wedding even started. So, imagine the joy you felt when you encountered him again in Hell.

“Maybe.. he’s right, maybe we’re too- different.” You sighed. “Maybe he should have his head examined,” She suggested as she took a sit in front of you. “I could do it.” You wanted to smile at that but- “Or perhaps he does belong with someone else.” You looked at your cup of tea. “Someone who isn’t lil’ miss/mr non hearted,” You mocked yourself as you stand up to look at a mirror near you two. “Someone with rosy cheeks and a beating heart.” You murmured sadly.

“Oh, those people are ten a penny,” Rosie rolled her eyes as she follows you behind and puts her hand on your shoulders to try to comfort you. “You’ve got so much more, darling! You’ve got- you’ve got..” She looked around to try to find the right words for you. “You’ve got a wonderful personality!”

She smiles to you through the mirror. You truly wanted to feel better after hearing that but negative thoughts were still ruining in your head, Rosie sees this and sighs.

“What do those wispy lil’ brats have that you don’t have double? They can’t a candle to the beauty of your smile!” She croons as she places you down onto the chair, placing her index fingers in the corners of your mouth to make you smile.

“… how about a pulse?” You looked at her. “Overrated by a mile-“ She slightly scoffs. “Overfed, overblown!” She makes a gesture making the idea of a pulse uninteresting. “If only they knew the you that we know—“ You sighed as you stand up again, crossing your arms to think. “And those silly little creatures don’t even have a ring! And they don’t play piano or dance or sing!” She carefully grabbed one of your hands, and with a graceful motion, she twirled you into a seated position.

“No, they clearly don’t compare,” “But they don’t look like they’re decaying-“ “Who cares?” She interrupted. “Unimportant! Overrated, overblown! If only they could see how special your relationship with him can be,” She drags you through the mirror and adjusts your wedding clothes. “If only they knew the you that we know..” You gently push her away.

You went to Rosie’s balcony and hug yourself to try to find comfort. “If I touch a burning candle I can feel no pain-“ You begin to sing plaintively. “If you cut me with a knife it’s still the same..” You moved your hand to the sky, fingers curling into a determined fist, as if reaching to grasp it.

“And I know they have a heart and I know that I don’t-“ You placed your hands on the railing, feeling the cool metal beneath your fingertips. “Yet the pain here that I feel, try and tell it’s not real.. it seems that I still have a tear to shed.” You touched your right cheek, feeling your eyes water a bit.

Rosie couldn’t help but feel sympathetic for you but she couldn’t just give up on cheering you on! “The sure redeeming feature from those little creatures is that they have a heart! Overrated, overblown, my dear friend!” She grins a bit wider as she stands next to you. “Everybody knows that they don’t know how to use that heart but you, sweetheart, even without a heart you can express it well with him!” She pointed out.

“Who cares? Unimportant! Overrated, overblown! If only they could see how special your relationship can be,” She grabbed one of your hands again and lead you inside the building. “If only they knew the you that we know..” She put you in front of the mirror again as she handed you a bouquet of flowers.

You looked at yourself, you imagined yourself walking through the aisle but- “If I touch a burning candle I can feel no pain, in the ice or in the sun it’s all the same,” You handed the flowers back to Rosie. “Yet I feel my heart aching—though it doesn’t beat its breaking,” You looked at yourself in the mirror as you fixed your hair and dust off your attired.

“And the pain here I feel- try and tell me it’s not real, I know that I don’t have a heart..” Rosie couldn’t help but hug you.

“Yet it seems that I still have some tears to shed..” You sang.

୭ৎ

You were now at the hotels lobby after your visit with Rosie, sitting at the pianos bench playing a few keys letting your mind wonder around.

“Ah! There you are, my dear!” A familiar voice you know enters the building, Alastor, your lover.

He walks towards you, the radio static getting a bit louder. You didn’t looked at him though, you continued to with what you’re doing. Alastor tilted his head a bit, curious about your reaction just now.

“Something wrong, my dearest?” No respond. Usually he would try to poke you just to get a reaction of you but your mood seemed different to him, he could read you like a book!

Since you’ve met when you were alive till now. He could sense that you were upset with something and he knew exactly what so he took a seat next to you and started to play a few notes.

You perfectly recognized them and looked at him with a surprised soft look and he just smiles at you as he continues.

You looked back at the piano and started to join in little by little, playing the song that used to play together when you were alive also being the song that was suppose to be played at your wedding.

You both looked at each other with soft eyes and- “Whoever made that comment will pay for what they did, I’ll make sure of that and also,” He paused for a bit trying to look how to say the next words that he’s about to say. “How do you feel about the possibility of marrying again, not in the sense of a second attempt, but in embracing the chance we never had when life took you away before we could say 'I do'?"

You froze at that moment, you didn’t know how to respond right away, you felt so many emotions blooming as he asked that. “… you serious?” You inquired. “You know I’m always honest with you, darling.” He grins a bit wider as he took one of your hands and place a small kiss on it.

“So?” You wanted to cry tears of joy at that moment. This is the same man who known for being a huge narcissistic, sadistic killer who also liked, and still does, to est his own people but yet- he still fell in love with you where you were alive.

Even if it took awhile to figured out his feelings for you, he absolutely adores you. You accepted all his flaws and even his weird habits, and even deep down he blames for your death but here you are.. next to him, forgiving him and still loving him the same way when you were alive together.

“Absolutely.” You smiled as a tear rolled down your cheek.

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel

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reputationmunson · 1 year

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Crossing Lines | S.H x fem!reader

part one | part two | part 3 | part 4

series summary: Steve isn’t your biggest fan, so why does he ask you to be his date to a wedding? | enemies to lovers, fake dating

chapter summary: time to meet the family!

content: you and steve go shopping, meeting his family, mentions of drinking, food mention, swearing, she/her pronouns, use of y/n, a little surprise at the end ;)

word count: 4.7k

The piercing ring of the phone wakes Steve from his deep sleep and putting a pillow over his head doesn’t drown out the sound even a little bit. He begrudgingly throws his blanket and grumbles obscenities until he reaches the phone.

“Hello?” he answers with an abrasive tone. “Good morning to you too, sunshine” your voice sounds way too happy for someone who’s awake this early. “y/n? Why the hell are you calling me this early?”

“Do you always talk to your girlfriends like this? No wonder you’re still single.’’ you tease and he lets out an overdramatic, loud sigh. “Get to the point it’s too early for this”

“It’s almost ten in the morning that isn’t exactly the break of dawn, but anyways, I need to know if you work today”

“Yeah, I do” he lies. “Liar! I already asked Robin and she told me that you’re off today” he can practically hear your ‘know-it-all-’ smirk over the phone. “I’m five seconds away from hanging up”

“Okay, okay, don’t get your panties in a twist. We need to go shopping today” you tell him and he scoffs at your words “We? Why do I need to go?”

“You said all expenses paid and I need new clothes for our couples getaway, therefore, you’re going shopping with me”

“It’s not a couple’s gateway” is all he says. “That’s all semantics, Stevie”

“Do you even know what semantics means?” he asks “do you?” you reply, turning the tables. His lips purse while he tries to thinks of an answer. He’s got nothing. “Whatever. I’ll pick you up in an hour” he hands up before giving you a chance to gloat.

Steve shows up to your house an hour and a half later and he expects nothing less than you reprimanding him for it. You walk outside wearing a dress that might be a bad idea for a breezy day like today, but it’s still a pretty dress. He tells himself that only the dress looks pretty, not the person wearing it. Your sparkly lip gloss that anyone from a mile away can see, looks pretty too, but not because it’s on your lips. He can just appreciate a nice gloss, that’s it.

“Thirty minutes late, mister. That isn’t very ‘boyfriend’ of you” you say as soon as you get into the car. “How about a ‘thank you’ for picking you up? That isn’t very ‘girlfriend’ of you” he rebuttals.

“Hush, I’m the perfect girlfriend. Can I play some music?” you ask and he turns the radio on. “Oh, I love this song!” you cheer when you change the station and ‘We Belong’ by Pat Benatar comes on. “Of course you do” he says and you roll your eyes at him while turning up the radio. In all honesty, he likes this song, but he’ll never admit that out loud.

You sing every word, not too loudly, but loud enough that Steve can hear. Your singing isn’t horrible, but he knows every time he hears this song he’s going to associate it with you. “Why are you always so grouchy? You constantly have a look on your face like someone put salt in your sugar shaker”

“Thanks for putting off your concert long enough to ask me that” he turns the radio down until there's almost no music and you turn it back up a smidge. “See! You’re a total butthead” you argue. “Butthead? Are we five?”

“That’s such a butthead response”

“Then how about we don’t talk for the rest of the car ride? Kay?” he impolitely suggests and you cross your arms. “Fine”

“Fine”

So you sit in silence for the rest of the time you’re in the car, aside from your soft singing. It drives Steve insane.

The mall was quite busy for a Tuesday and it takes Steve three loops around the parking lot to find a decent spot.

“I told you to just park in the back. We could’ve saved so much time”

“What did I say about not talking while we’re in the car?” he asks, rhetorically. You quickly step out of the car and repeat yourself “I told you to just park in the back. We could’ve saved so much time. I’m not in the car, so you can’t get mad at me! C’mon, let's go!”

Steve sighs before taking the keys out of the ignition and following behind you. Once you reach the entrance you hold your hand out to him. He looks down at your hand and back up at you “What’s that?”

“It’s a hand, Steve. Ya know, most people have one attached to the end of their arm and-”

“What do you want me to do with your hand, smartass’’ he cuts you off. “We’re supposed to be getting used to acting like a couple, so hold my hand” your hand is still held out and you shake it in front of him. “Nope. No way” he pushes your hand but you reach it out again. “Stop being a butthead, yes I said it again because you’re acting like a five year old”

He reluctantly takes your hand and your fingers lace together. “Wow, look at that. You didn’t even burst into flames” you taunt. He doesn’t hate it as much as he thought it would. Your hands are soft and he notices that your nails match the color of your dress. It’s kind of cute.

Steve tries to shield his face with his hand and you laugh at him. “That’s not gonna work. People come from all over to see that head of hair, so they’ll be able to tell that it’s you holding my hand. I hope you’ll be able to survive this tragic event”

He removes his hand from his face “People do not come from all over just to see my hair.” he grumbles. “It’s called a joke, Steve. Since I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile whenever I’m around then I shouldn’t be surprised you didn’t know that”

“Let’s just get this over with. Where are we going first?” you drag him to the first store and Steve is convinced everyone is staring at him while he holds your hand. (literally no one is giving either of you a second glance).

“Hold this for me, baby” you hand him a sundress and he grimaces at the nickname “Is holding hands not enough? You gotta call me ‘baby’ too?” he complains. “Get used to it, baby”

After only ten minutes in the store, Steve has a stack of clothes piled in his arms. “Are you really buying all of this?” he asks. “I’m not buying anything, you are, but I have to try it on first and you have to give me your opinion”

“My opinion is that you’re going to look horrible in all of it”

“You say that now, but you’ve never seen me in this shade of pink” you point to one of the dresses in his hand that isn’t holding yours. “I’ve seen you in every shade of every color. Your closet looks like a box of crayons exploded”

“You remember what colors I have in my wardrobe? Sounds like you’re a bit obsessed with me”

“In your dreams…babe? Ugh that sounded weird. Can you try this shit on now? My arm is about to fall off” He whines. “Yeah, I wouldn't want you to break a nail. Wait outside the dressing room so I can show you how it looks” you tell him. “Can’t wait” he replies, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

Steve checks his watch every thirty seconds because how long does it take to try on one dress?

“Spend your whole life waitin’ on your woman, don’t ya?” an older gentleman asks him. “Uh, yeah. I guess so” chuckles. “My wife, Ethel, over there” he points in the direction of where his wife stands “always takes her sweet time. After forty years of marriage I’m still always waitin’ on her, but she still looks so damn beautiful that it’s worth it”

“Harold, leave the poor boy alone, honey” His wife says when she wanders over to her husband. “No, I don’t mind. I’m just waiting for my girl to show me her new dress” Steve says. He said ‘my girl’ so naturally he didn’t even realize it until he finished his sentence.

“Steve, what do you think- oh, hi!” you greet the couple and introduce yourself. “That’s a beautiful dress, don’t ya think Steve?” Harold asks him. “y-yeah. You look great, sweetheart” he smiles. You do look great. The color of the dress compliments your skin tone perfectly and makes your eyes pop.

“How long have you two been together?” Ethel asks. “Five months” you both say at the same time. “Oh, young love. It’s truly a wonderful thing. I feel like I’m looking in a mirror from forty years ago” She expresses and puts her hand over her heart. “We’ll let you kids get back to it. Enjoy the rest of your day” Harold says. “Thank you, you too!” you respond before they walk away.

“So, um, tell me what you really thing about this dress”

“I think it looks great” he replies. “Really? No snarky comment? Did that old couple make you go all soft on me, Harrington?”

“Not in a million years. Go try the other shit on I don’t wanna be here all day” he carps. “Okay, I’m going, but don’t fall in love with me after seeing how good I look in this next one!” yeah, right he thinks.

After a fashion show and a dent in his bank account, you finally leave the store. Most of your outfits were casual, but cute and preppy enough to impress his family. You even found a dress to wear to the wedding. “I have to get a new bathing suit. Or three new bathing suits” you announce as you walk past a store with all the summer essentials. “Three? For what reason?”

“You said your family members are all staying in lake houses and I need to be prepared. I’m also assuming this fancy hotel we’re staying in has a pool” you explain. “Oh, and how come we aren’t staying in a lake house?” you wonder. “My parents weren’t gonna rent a house for just me. I even told them I was bringing my “girlfriend”, but we’re still staying in a hotel twenty minutes away from everyone” he answers. “Oh no, we’re staying in an expensive hotel with all the amenities we could ever need. Should I bring a survival kit?” you gibe.

“Just go get your swimsuits and don’t make me watch you model them” he pleads. “Why? Scared you’ll like what you see?” Yes, he thinks to himself. “Nope. Just starving. I’m gonna go grab something from the food court” he says before scurrying off.

“Hey, can I get two soft pretzels and two lemonades, please?”

“Steve Harrington?” He hears a woman's voice and turns around. “It’s me! Beth!”

“Beth, hi!” He greets. Steve went on a date with Beth a few months ago and she never called him back. He actually really liked her, too. Until she ditched him for her new boyfriend.

“How are you? Hungry?” She asks when she she's the two pretzels and drinks in his hand. “Oh, um, ones for me and ones for my… girlfriend. She’s shopping right now- oh look, there she is! Baby, I’m over here!” he waves to get your attention.

“Aw, you got me something? You’re so sweet, Stevie” you kiss his cheek and it takes everything in him to not act weirded out. “Babe, this is Beth. Beth this is my girl, y/n”

“Nice to meet you, y/n. It was good to see you, Steve” she says and saunters off. “Did you really have to kiss my cheek?” he wipes your lipgloss off of his face. “Give me a soft pretzel and I’ll do just about anything”

“Gross” he mutters, “Are you done shopping yet?” he groans. “Yes, I’m done. Thanks again for the pretzel. That was actually really nice” you smile at him. “Don’t thank me yet. I poisoned it” he jokes and you chuckle. “Thank god. Then I wouldn’t have to spend three whole days with you”

“Well, actually, we have to go up thursday” he tells you and you stop in your tracks. “Thursday? That's in two days and I have so much to do!” you exclaim. “You’ll just have to get it done a day early. It’s the least you can do after I bought you this pretzel”

“You’re impossible”

“And you’re welcome for the delicious treat and all the clothes”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just take me home, please”

“Gladly”

By the time Thursday rolls around, you’re already exhausted from this weekend before it’s even started. You spent your entire day yesterday doing laundry, going to the store for travel things, packing, and mentally preparing yourself for being Steve’s “girlfriend”.

It wasn’t that pretending to be his significant other was going to be the worst thing in the world. He’s attractive and you’ve heard his personality is alright, you’ve just yet to meet that version of Steve, but you worried it would be awkward.

There’s no way you have any amount of chemistry with Steve that makes it convincing that you two are in love. He scowls at any pet name you give him, he practically freezes any time you touch him, and you’re pretty sure he’d slip into a coma if he was actually nice to you.

The sound of Steve honking his horn pulls you from your anxious thoughts. He can’t even come up and knock on your door. God forbid he helps you carry any of your luggage. He did pop the trunk for you, though, so that’s something at least.

“Is your arm broken?” you ask, sitting down in the passenger seat. “No?” he replies, confused. “I just figured since you didn’t help me carry a single thing that-”

“You’re bitching already? It hasn’t even been five minutes that must be a new record”

“your hair looks flat today” you insult and he glares at you “you do know i have traits other than my hair, right?”

“yeah, I know. just don’t care enough, is all” you state, looking at your manicure like his existence is irrelevant to you. “Right, okay. Let’s just not kill each other until we get there”

“Only if you promise to buy me snacks at the gas station” you bargain “Fine. Whatever you want”

You fell asleep halfway through the car ride and have woken up once. For some reason, Steve can’t stop himself from glancing over you. Your head is resting on the window, your lips are slightly parted, and if he didn’t already know you, he’d think you actually look kind of sweet.

“Hey” he whispers and gently shakes your shoulder to wake you up. You grunt in response and he shakes your shoulder a little more. “Wake up, we’re almost at my parents lake house” he says and you jolt awake. “We’re stopping there first? I’m not prepared for that!” you exclaim and flip down the visor mirror to make yourself look presentable.

“They said they have a surprise for us and they’re looking forward to meeting you. It’ll be fine” he puts his hand on your thigh for a split second then quickly pulls it back. “And here we are” he announces when he pulls into the driveway. It’s more of a lake mansion than a lake house, but you didn’t expect anything less. Steve opens the passenger side door for you just in case anyone is watching. He can tell you’re nervous about meeting his parents. You’ve been fiddling with the hem of your top and the look on your face isn’t exactly hiding any of your emotions.

Steve grabs your hand and you’re taken by surprise. He’s touching you without acting like there’s a gun to his head. “Ready to meet the parents?” he asks, giving your hand a squeeze “As ready as I’ll ever be”

He knocks on the door and your leg bounces, anxiously. “Hey, stop worrying. They’ll love you. Most people think you’re great. Apart from me, obviously” he jests and you snicker. You know it isn’t a big deal if his parents don’t like you. You two aren’t actually together and there's a high chance you’ll never see them again, but you have this irritating need for people’s approval. Which is a bit ironic considering your hand is currently being held by the one person who has a huge issue with you.

“Steve, honey! We’re so glad you’re here!” his mom exclaims before hugging him. “You must be y/n! It’s so nice to meet you!” she hugs you next. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Harrington”

“Oh, please, call me Joanne. Come in, I’ll get your father. George, Steve and his girlfriend are here!” she shouts when you all walk inside.

Steves’ father emerges from the back porch of the house and it’s like Steve twenty-five years from now walked in from the future. “Now, what’s someone as pretty as you doing with my son? Did you pay her Steve?” he jokes, but he has no idea how close he is to being correct. “Thanks, dad, good to see you too.” Steve grumbles. “Don’t get too upset, I know how sensitive you can be. I’m George, it’s a pleasure to meet you” he extends his hand and you shake it. “It’s great to meet you. I’m y/n”

“You’re much nicer than most girls my son dates. There was one girl-”

“Anyways, mom said you had a surprise for us” Steve interrupts his dad. “Yes, we do!” his mom says and hands Steve a key. “What’s this?” he asks as he holds the key. “Well, your father and I thought it might be romantic if you two had your own house and you’d be much closer to the family. It’s just right up the road and we cancelled your hotel reservation.”

“That’s so kind of you, Mrs. Harr- Joanne. You didn’t have to do that” you thank her and she beams at your appreciation. “Honey, we’re just so grateful that Steve has found someone that he clearly loves. You should’ve heard how he spoke about you on the phone” She tells you and Steve’s face turns beet red when you turn to look at him. “Uh, yeah, thank you. We should probably go check this out, yeah?’’ he asks and you nod.

“Once you freshen up, don’t forget we’re having dinner here tonight!” Joanne reminds the both of you before saying your goodbyes. Your nerves come back when you think about meeting the rest of his family.

“So… what did you say about me on the phone?” you ask once you both step outside. “I don’t even remember. I didn’t really say much” he lies, but he doesn’t want you to know just in case you get the wrong impression that he might not dislike you as much as you think he does. “Keep your secrets, then. Let's go check out our house!” you squeal and run to the car.

“Oh my gosh, it’s so cute!” you say as you pull into the driveway. The house is smaller than the others, but the ideal size for two people. There’s a porch that overlooks the lake with two rocking chairs and a coffee table. It’s perfect for watching the sun rise and set.

It does make you a little sad that if you weren’t here, Steve would be all alone in a hotel while the rest of his family was within walking distance. Why wouldn’t he stay with his parents? or another family member? “Did you hear me?” he asks, bringing you back from all the questioning going on in your mind.“No, sorry. What did ya say?”

“I asked if you’re ready to go inside. I’ll help you with your bags this time”

“Yeah, thanks.” you grin and get out of the car.

The inside of the house is as beautiful as the outside. It’s cozy and inviting. If Steve was your boyfriend, it would be very romantic. “So, only one bedroom I suppose,” Steve speaks up. “I’ll take the couch” he volunteers.

“Steve, I can already tell you’re too tall for that couch. I’ll take it”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind”

“Or we could be adults and share the bed? It’s big enough that you won’t even come close to touching me” you assure him. “If you wanted to sleep next to me, all you had to do was ask” he smirks and your nose scrunches in disgust. “Shut up, I’m trying to be nice to you”

“Let’s unpack before we have to go to dinner. Are you nervous about meeting everyone else?” he asks as you throw your luggage on the bed so you can unpack your bags. “Yeah, I guess. Is there anything I should know?” you question. “Not really. My parents seemed to like you, so they’ve probably already put in a good word.”

The rest of the time you spend unpacking and getting ready is spent in silence. It isn’t either an awkward or comfortable silence. It’s like neither of you are there, not acknowledging each other unless absolutely necessary.

You and Steve decide to walk to his parents since it’s such a pleasant evening. The sound of the lake is peaceful and the moonlight illuminates your surroundings so perfectly that it makes the street lamps needless. “It really is lovely out here” you say and Steve hums in agreement. “Are you nervous, Steve? About seeing your family? You ask and he lets out a sigh that he’s been holding in for a while. “Kind of, but they’re probably gonna be more focused on you”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you offer and he shakes his head. “Nah, that’s alright. We’re almost there anyway” When you walk through the door of the house, Steve places his hand on the small of your back. Only for appearances, clearly. “We’re here” he announces and his family comes over to greet you.

“You must be y/n! I’m Linda, Steve’s aunt. We’ve heard many great things about you!” You make your way through all introductions followed by a million it’s nice to meet you too’s. His family is bigger than you expected and you can definitely tell that they have money just by looking at them.

You’re finally offered a glass of wine and happily accept. “Here, Steve, it’s an old-fashioned. The real man's drink” His father hands him a glass and he has to stop himself from chugging it.

“We are all dying to know how you two met” Steve’s aunt says to you once you and Steve are in the kitchen. It seems like everyone is gathered in the kitchen to hear the story. Steve looks a little lost so you decide you’ll take the lead on this one.

“Well, we met through mutual friends and Steve was terrible at attempting to flirt with me. I thought he was just so cute and one night I got stood up on a blind date and Steve came to my rescue and the rest is history” you wrap your arm around his back and his arm wraps around your shoulder. He can’t believe how quickly you came up with that. Your story is met with many ‘aws’ and Steve mouths a ‘thank you’ when no one is looking.

“I like your dress’’ you hear a small voice come from behind you and you turn around to see the most adorable toddler with pigtails. “Thank you, sweetie. I like your hair” you bend down to eye level with her. “I’m y/n. What’s your name?”. “Penelope. I’m this many” She holds up three fingers and you smile. “Do y’wanna color with me?” she asks and you follow her to the table she was coloring at.

“Are you married to Steve?”

“Nope, not married, but I am his girlfriend” it still feels weird to say that. “Okay. You can use my crayons”

Steve watched this interaction from the kitchen. He thinks the drink is already starting to go to his head because he thinks it's absolutely adorable. You’re a natural with kids and with his family. He can’t tell if it’s all part of the act or if you are actually this amazing.

Dinner goes smoothly with the help of several alcoholic beverages. Steve’s hand has been on your thigh throughout the entire meal and he didn’t act bothered by it at all. Maybe his acting skills aren’t so abysmal after all.

“Can I help you wash up?” you ask his mom as she cleans up the kitchen. “That would be wonderful, dear.”

“Penelope adores you, by the way. She’s always been a little shy and she warmed up to you just like that.” She tells you. “She’s a sweet kid. I was like that when I was younger. Shy, I mean. Guess I still am” a small chuckle escapes your throat. “Well, no worries about that. The family loves you” She assures you and you give her a kind smile.

“Ready to go, babe?” Steve asks you. “Go on, I’ll make George help with cleanup” His mom hugs you both and his hand holds yours as you say your goodbyes to everyone.

“That wine got to me, I think. I feel all warm and fuzzy” you say with a giggle. Steve still hasn’t let go of your hand even though you're halfway back to the house by now. “I know what you mean. You were great, by the way. Pretty sure they’re convinced we’re in love.”

“Wow, you’re complimenting me? You must definitely be tipsy” you laugh. “And you’re still holding my hand so you’re absolutely toasted” he quips. “m’not. I just might fall over if you let go” so he doesn’t let go, not until you’re both inside the bedroom.

Once you both climb into bed, there’s more than a respectable distance between you and Steve. For some reason, a strange thought crosses your mind and you have the biggest urge to bring it up. “Hey, Steve?”

“Hm?”

“I thought of something we haven’t practiced yet and it’s kinda weird, but hear me out”

“Okay…I’m listening” he says, sounding a little suspicious. “Do you think it’ll be weird if we don’t kiss? Nothing crazy just a couple pecks here and there” he sits up and turns on the bedside table lamp. “You wanna makeout in front of my family?”

“No! Of course not. I said peck” he doesn’t respond and you’ve never felt more embarrassed in your life.

“Okay. Yeah, we probably should practice it. Ya know, just to be convincing” he finally speaks up. “Yeah. Just to be convincing.” you both sit up and scoot closer to each other. “Wait! Can you turn off the light?” you request and he quickly turns off the light.

You feel Steve’s hand resting on your cheek and your heart thumps in your chest out of nerves, not anything else, that’s for sure. “Ready?” he asks “Ready”

His lips brush yours and linger for a few seconds before he places his lips on yours in a proper kiss. It’s a simple kiss. There’s no tongue, obviously, and it feels like it’s over before it's even started.

“Wait, sorry. Let me try again” he says. He kisses you again and it’s still simple, but this time your lips move together in a harmonious agreement. His body moves closer to yours and you feel yourself slipping away, like you’ve forgotten that you’re kissing Steve Harrington. Someone that you aren’t supposed to be kissing.

He pulls back as he feels that the kiss might grow more intense. You’re left breathless and stunned, but Steve doesn’t seem to be as affected as you are, but he is. His palms are sweaty and his heart feels like it might jump out of his throat. He nonchalantly rolls over back to his side while you stay in the same position, staring at his silhouette.

“Goodnight, y/n”

“y-yeah, goodnight”

a/n: IT’LL GET JUCIER SOON I PROMISE

taglist: @freezaz123 @lovelyimpossibleobservation @johnricharddeacy @mjtalksaboutanything @nix-rose-q @eternallyvenus (i hope i didn't miss anyone!)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington series #steve harrington enemies to lovers #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things fic

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smallsdotcom · 1 year

Text

HOW BTS FUCKS YOU (18+)

pairing : poly bts x idol!f!reader

genre : smut + headcanons + bts addition

warnings : unprotected sex + dom/sub dynamics + i put warnings before each member so you can skip them if you want because there’s a lot going on with each member

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT **

NAMJOON

warnings : mentions of guided masturbastion, cumplay, pegging, pussy slapping, squirting

he likes to be in control

it’s just the leader part of him coming out

he loves guiding you and telling you how to touch yourself and him

please let him come on your face

just know that this man will let you peg him

but he’s still in control, sorry not sorry

also don’t try to act bratty with him because you will regret it

has a thing for slapping your pussy and watching you moan at the feeling

made you squirt once and was never the same after that

SEOKJIN

warnings : mommy kink, praise kink, marking

you called him mommy ONE time as a joke

but it’s not a joke anymore

he likes it when you call him that, makes him feel like he’s doing a good job at taking care of you

this is something you two would rather keep between the two of you

mainly because you don’t want the others to baby you like jin does

please praise him and tell him he’s doing a good job

absolutely LOVES when you’re vocal and when you leave scratches down his back

you have a small thing for marking his back and shoulders

you both really enjoy when he throws your legs over his shoulders as he fucks you

YOONGI

warnings : slight exhibitionism, studio sex, cunninglingus, cockwarming

nine times out of ten you guys fuck in his studio

he has a thing for you cockwarming him while he’s writing and making music

will even let you help him with a few songs here or there

one time he let you compose, write, and produce a whole song by yourself while he sat back a watched

likes calling you his “little protégé” and armys think it’s just a cute nickname when in reality he started using it when he fucks you

likes calling you that because of how shy you get when he does especially when he’s balls deep inside you

and of course he’s really big on lazy sex and enjoys seeing you wear his hoodies as he fucks you

HOSEOK

warnings : bratty!reader, overstimulation, edging, mirror sex

he has you so fucking spoiled the others can’t stand it

will let you get away with acting bratty to him but isn’t afraid to put you in your place if you get out of hand

will overstimulate you or edge you depending on his mood

if his mood is good and he’s happy then prepare for orgasm after orgasm until you’re crying

if he’s mad or upset then prepare to be edged for hours until your crying and begging for release

love fucking you in front of a mirror especially the ones in the practice room

one minute you’re practicing your dance moves with hoseok behind helping / monitoring you

then the next thing is you’re being forced to watch your fucked out face as hoseok drills into you from behind

JIMIN

warnings : semi-public sex, crying during sex, body worship

fucks you like you’re going to break if he goes too hard

likes holding your hands and keeping eye contact

he has fucked you on a few hotel balconies before and loves the thought of someone looking up and seeing you both

sex with him makes you emotional for some reason, like nine times out of ten you will cry at some point

jimin and the other guys have literally no idea why this happens

this kind of plays into why jimin is always so soft when you have sex

really likes to body worship you especially when he can tell you are struggling

all the guys are soft with you, but jimin takes the crown when it comes to being super soft

TAEHYUNG

warnings : shibari, sex toys, face sitting

he loves practicing shibari on you and taking pictures

could make a whole photo exhibition from the pictures he’s taken of you

loves buying you lingerie and taking pictures as well

buys you lingerie every time you all go to a new country when on tour

enjoys using sex toys on you especially vibrators because he can use them as punishment

“you were being bad so you don’t get my cock, get off while using this and maybe i’ll give you my cock.”

please sit on his face, he wants to be suffocated with your pussy

JUNGKOOK

warnings : rough sex, 69, spanking, pegging

loves spanking you

whether it’s or bare ass or covered ass he doesn’t care

will also not hesitate to spank you in front of others especially if he’s just passing by

one time smacked your ass so hard while he passed you in the kitchen, it sent you forward on the counter and you couldn’t help but moan at the how hard he hit

he really likes doing sixty-nine with you

says it feels nice having your thighs wrapped around his head while he’s eating you out

also gets off to the sounds of you choking on his dick after he does a particular harsh suck to your clit

like namjoon, he will let you peg him but unlike the leader, he likes letting you be in control

like please ruin him because he loves seeing you in control especially since you don’t get to be in charge of anything due to be the youngest

if you ask, he will willingly hand control over to you

#girlzilla.#poly bts x reader #bts x reader #bts smut #bts headcanons #bts imagines #bts scenarios #idol!reader #[ 🥡 ] — 18+

1K notes · View notes

undercoverpena · 1 year

Text

this year's love.

simon ghost riley x f!reader

wc: 5.5k warnings: angst. fluff. smut. feelings. usual jo things. summary: And then you begin calling him Riley. It’s more flirtatious—more meaningful. Simon is when you’re soft, thanking him, when others are close and can hear you. Riley is when you’re leaning over the bar, staring into his soul and smirking so deviously it takes a lot to not kiss it off your lips. an: from the drabble where ghost 'dates' a non-militant he meets in a pub. this is dedicated to @yeyinde for reminding me why British pubs are adorable, and also to @guyfieriii because she hates my angst, but loves my fluff, and makes me want to write better.

simon ghost riley masterlist

He suspects he should stay away.

As soon as he began to crave the sight of you. Ignoring the fact he’s heard This Year's Love by David Gray three times already—and he has only been here an hour. The condensation beads from his glass pools on the picked-at-bar mat, drenching his fingers and wrist.

Not that he cares.

Ghost—

Simon knows it’s all part of the charm.

It has been since the day he turned eighteen and his boss at the butchers took him for his first pint.

The place hasn’t changed since. Everything from the same ten to twelve songs which crackle through the worn and tired speakers. The smokey air, and discoloured, yellowing wallpaper.

Things don’t get replaced either, the chipped glass ashtrays are the same as the ones he remembers. The same chipped mahogany tables with the ill-matching chairs and stools that are wobbly.

The scent in the place is familiar, a mix between festering ale and Mr Sheen, working men and cheap perfume, fust and smoke—both from the crackling winter fire and cigarettes—even if one hasn’t been smoked inside of it for years.

The place, to outsiders, would look like any stone-walled pub on the corner of two streets they’ll never remember. Then they’ll step in, their eyes glancing over the peeling wallpaper, moth-eaten curtains (that never close) and the once-white nets in the windows, before questioning what they’ve walked into. That’s before they’ve noticed the white ball on the pool table is in fact another black ball and that the dart board triple 20 has been chipped out after Bald-Andy lost his rag.

The pub has been a real gem to those who know what real diamonds are for as long as Simon can remember. None of the regulars care that the bar stools have burns from cigarettes being stubbed out, they don’t care that the musty smell doesn’t vanish even with Febreze and sheer will. It’s expected, just like how the bar is always sticky and the energy always feels right.

Here, he can relax.

When he’s home, he feels purposeless. A man with a map but no direction. But, he can unfurl his shoulders from his ears, even let his hood slide to the back of his neck.

Because in this place, strangers aren’t welcome. It’s a local pub, for local folk. Those who wander in, thinking the pub on the corner of quaint and quintessential will provide them with a typical British evening, normally leaving before Freddie Mercury has reached the bridge of whatever song is on rotation.

But, Simon isn’t just here for the bourbon or the ale, he’s not here because the wooden fire licks every wall of the place. He’s not here because it feels more like home than his actual home.

He’s here because there’s one thing that has changed, and it’s you.

You with a rosy, sweet laugh that usually accompanies a smile which makes his heart gallop. It calms whatever storm rages inside of him when you look at him—when you bore your pretty, fucking eyes into him before you lean over, hand on the beer pump as you call him Simon.

Simon.

His name has never sounded more serene than when it falls from your lips. The way you say it makes it seem less than ordinary, almost unique. Humour sways in your eyes, a glint he knows there’s more too—and wants nothing more than to explore.

You’re a vibrant surprise in the middle of my mundane, and it took him all of five minutes to discern you’re both difficult and charming all rolled into one.

And then you begin calling him Riley.

It’s more flirtatious—more meaningful.

Simon is when you’re soft, thanking him, when others are close and can hear you. Riley is when you’re leaning over the bar, staring into his soul and smirking so deviously it takes a lot to not kiss it off your lips.

Women haven’t tended to last here—except Tracy. Tracy, who like the urinal cakes, has been here since Simon’s first pint. Her lines had deepened in her skin over time, but her hair has remained that putrid blonde she tries to claim is natural.

You, on the other hand, are far younger—kind, soft, unless someone gets lairy and then there’s a ferociousness to you that’s packed into something so small. He suspects you know what the men at the bar look at when your eyes aren’t looking, and it’s not the way you command the small space stuffed with offerings and glasses.

He’d paid no mind initially. Tried not to, anyway. He’d decided it would be for the best. Then you’d bite back at Dave that you may be too young to remember a song, but you could still get down on her knees without them creaking.

He had smirked at that.

Deciding his new seat at the bar, on the rickety bar stool was his new favourite seat.

To this day, you always smell floral, but the accompanying scent with it changes. Sometimes you’re sultry, sometimes you’re just sweet. Each time he is able to return ‘home’ he’s never sure which one he’ll get—but it burns a place in his nose all the same.

Hard to shift, difficult to smother, not that he wishes to do either.

Their first exchanges were simple. Contractual. Another? Yes. Your usual? Yes. Then you had placed a deck of cards in front of him, a teasing smile on your face in the quietness of a Wednesday evening.

Keep me company.

It was difficult for him to grasp how soft your eyes were, how it made his mind blank and his heart both hammer and stutter all at once.

Now, it’s normal.

He’s used to it, fucking welcomes the way they land on him. He thinks about them on the plane ride home, how Alan—the chef who’ll serve anything off-menu for a packet of fags—makes a mean all-day breakfast sandwich. But mostly, it’s you.

“You back for long, Riley?”

“No.”

“Never are.”

“You sound disappointed, sweetheart.”

You always smile the same when he calls you that. Always half-roll your eyes before shaking your head, as though flirting with you is oh so wrong.

Especially when you start it first.

“What would you do if I was?”

That’s new.

His fingers pick up a crisp, watching you lean on the pump in front of you. The star earrings hanging from your ears, catch the bar spotlights, making it seem as though you’re literally glowing.

But then, you are—to him at least.

Someone calls for you, pint raised in hand—saving him from answering. You wink, and mumble you’ll be right back, the words lingering in the space you once stood.

You’re too good for him.

Too normal. Too unscarred and untouched. He suspects a bad thing has never happened to you. You’ve not plunged a knife into someone’s throat, not shot a moving target with a precision that most try to replicate on their controllers and headsets.

For that reason, and that reason alone, he knows he should stay on this side of the bar. Even when it takes all of his self-restraint to do so.

It’s hard though.

More so when you give him that look—that one which makes his cock twitch and his thoughts turn feral.

Because the nice girl from the pub may have a sweet, soft voice, but fuck he knows you’re anything but.

You’re all red lips and righteousness, a siren and enchantress who chooses floral perfume to try and disguise the way your eyes undress him.

Not that he complains.

He’s done the same.

Fucked his own fist to the thought of the noises you’d make and how you’d feel enveloped around his cock.

Tonight he’d likely do the same.

Winter is in full effect when he next returns.

Snow was thick on the streets, the roads a horrid mix of ice, slush and asphalt.

You’re behind the bar, Bald-Andy and his wife in the corner near the fire, and the crackling, gruff voice of Oasis is playing. You look up, lips smirking, eyes glistening.

“The usual?”

He considers it. Sweet, caramel and vanilla notes hit his tongue in memory. But he shakes his head, pulling out a stool, and sitting opposite you as your perfume greets him.

“Surprise me, sweetheart.”

You stand fully, hair falling around your face, making his heart lurch and his stomach burn.

“Living dangerously, I see,” you say, turning your back to him as you pull at spirit bottles.

If only you knew.

He suspects something sweet when you place the glass in front of him. The sound of it meeting the worn wood so loud, not that the other two patrons look over. As though it’s just the two of you. No one else. His eyes lift, hooking themselves into yours—unwilling to let you tear them from him as he tries to bury the aches of war and fighting.

It’s caramel coloured, darker at the bottom of the glass than the top. Ice. So much ice.

“Go on, try it, Simon.”

And he does.

It’s sweet, and zingy. It’s mellow but spicy, and he tastes the hints of ginger and rum as the cold hits his teeth.

“What y’made me?”

“You like it?”

Yes.

The tip of your tongue swiping across your bottom lip, watching you lean smugly. “Dark and stormy… the epitome of you.”

A groan leaving his lips, your laugh tasting of sunshine and happier days.

A long moment stretches between the two of you, one that makes the air thrum and him having to shift his jeans. A continuous voice in his head, telling him no, telling him to put a stop to this now.

He drinks it. He even orders it again.

Time ticks fast—too fast. He wants it to slow. Ever since their first flirtation, if you’ve finished when he’s there—he walks you to your car.

You drive something small, your entire backseat is always covered in coats, shoes and books. Something normal, and so typically you.

He does the same tonight, hands in his jacket pockets, periodically scanning the area as you lock the big wooden doors of the pub. You shake them, ensuring you have, pocketing the keys before turning to nudge him.

Simple. Soft. Each gesture in the short walk is always seemingly effortless. You don’t worry he’ll take offence, that he’ll shatter or snap.

Not that he would.

His arm lifting, letting your small hand slide around it for stability as the snow falls thick and fast. It paints the streets in a blanket that crunches under their boots. And there’s something about the snow landing in your hair, on the tip of your nose, even on your lower lip.

He wants to brush it from your mouth, and trace the bow of your upper lip with his thumb.

Because it’s all a contradiction. Snow makes you look innocent, something close to a character from a movie or a Disney film. And, you’re not any of those things.

You’re snarky, huffed whispers and quick retorts when drunkards try to hit on you; you’re witty, funny and boldly brilliant.

So much so, he’s never sure why you work there. He knows you’re studying, knows you’re trying to better yourself. You’ve told him as much over a Pepsi Max in your hand and something stronger in his.

He knows it’s odd to keep staring at you. Your eyes staring up, making your eyes seem wider and bigger than they actually are—pretty sure the flurries of snow, stars and moon are shining in them. But it’s his treat—his reward. The thing he thinks about when he’s knee-deep in mud or covered in blood, sweat and bruises.

Your feet stop at your car, unlocking it—the beep and flash of your headlights casting light across the car park.

“You back for long?”

“No.”

Smiling, you lean against the rear window. “Never are.”

It’s a pattern, a habit. An exchange that has become the norm for the two of you as much as hello and goodbye.

Then, you sigh.

Something you rarely do, not to him—not with him. His brows knitting, tightening, heart thundering in his throat as you drag your eyes up his chest, and neck and land on his face.

“Do you know how perfect it would be, if you grew a pair and kissed me in the snow, Riley?”

Your hand slides into the handle, opening it as your smirk turns into a grin. One which is brighter than your headlights, the moon—hell, the fucking sun.

“Guess I’ll have to wait for a shooting star, instead.”

And, you laugh, leaning your back against the car—expression blended with vulnerability and searing heat that should melt the settling ice on your face.

“Y’seem like the sorta woman to make me work for it.”

“Oh yes, because eighteen months of will-they-won’t-they hasn’t been tedious enough.”

He grabs your elbow, roughly pulling but finds you fall into him with far too much ease. The snow continues to fall, leaving soft cold kisses on his face, but he doesn’t feel cold.

How could he? You’re staring up at him with the searing heat of the sun.

“Y’want me to kiss you, Sweetheart?”

“More than I want to go home and sleep, Riley.”

His hand cups your cheek, warm meeting cold as he pulls your lips to his. Cold, soft lips slide against his, and he tastes the orange from your cordial swirling with his bourbon-covered tongue. Your car groans when he presses you against it, your hand clutching him with the same desperation as he’s flush with your body.

Your cheeks are warm against his hands, eyelashes fluttering open as the two of you break apart.

“You… you want to come back to mine?”

Yes. Fuck yes.

But—

“Next time.”

“Yeah?”

His fingers brush down your cheek, and he nods.

He got your number.

For convenience. You tell him he didn’t need to come in and drink one of your piss-poor beer pulls just to get in your knickers.

So he doesn’t.

He doesn’t text when he first lands. He gives himself a day—a moment to shed the Ghost and become Simon. When you do you don’t reply with anything witty, just straight-laced—just like he likes it.

A time. An address.

He expects you to size him up at your front door, even bracing for a changed mind. You don’t do either. You let the door open, standing two steps inwards dressed in something lace and rippable.

Fuckin’ fuck.

It’s the only thought he has before he slams your door behind him, striding towards you and practically throwing you over his shoulder.

You don’t taste like what he expects—it’s better.

His tongue flattens against you, two fingers inside your warm cunt as you whimper. You reluctantly still clutching to the promise you’d made earlier. The one where you informed him it’ll take more than a few fingers and a skilled tongue to make you scream.

So he sucks. Bites. Nips.

He finds that squishy part, stroking it as your thighs twitch by his ears.

It’s then he grants himself the chance to look at you, finding your lipstick spread in a way which seems deliberately chaotic—even if he knows it isn’t. Your lashes wet, eyes clamped shut as you try and try not to give in.

So fuckin’ stubborn.

Your hands, all smooth and soft, clutching your breasts, the pink of a nipple poking out between your index and thumb as your chest rises and falls as you fight calling out his name.

He likes that you have convictions—it gives him something to break.

His tongue swirling, knowing already what he needs to do to undo you.

And then—

Simon—fuc-k, Simon.

It’s better than classical, better than whatever is number one on the fuckin’ charts. The sound of you coming hard, and fast, trying to bury it in a whisper than the scream you actually want to release. All of it is a better sound than his knife plunging into some unsuspecting op—because he will make you scream.

He laps up every ounce you give him, your pleading whimpers and nails in his hair making him groan against your cunt until you almost snap his neck—or try to.

“Take them off. Now.”

He doesn’t like orders.

He fucking detests them. He gives them. Normally loud and booming. But your voice, all sweet and high-pitched, trying to give stern eyes when your lashes are coated in tears he’s caused…

Your eyes widen when he stands naked. And he knows he’s big.

He’s very fucking aware of it. He’s seen plenty of evidence to support the fact in the wild, surprised eyes of those who he’s dropped his trousers for.

You now being one of them.

But fuck, he fits in you perfectly. So much so, he wants to mould your insides to match him, to ruin you for every other person who thinks they stand a chance with you.

Because they don’t.

But then neither does he.

Not that he’ll squander a moment to fuck with heaven—to hear the cadence shift when he hooks your leg over his hip as he drives his cock into you all the way to the hilt.

He coaxes another out of you, your tight cunt like a vice around him as your manicured nails leave scratches on his back. His tongue swipes across your jaw, before haphazardly capturing your mouth.

You taste like mint polos and sex—a taste he is already sure he’ll crave.

And he wonders to himself if you know how fucking perfect you are. If you have any idea of how stunning you truly are.

Especially like this. Your body shimmering with sweat, each thrust making your breasts bounce as your fingers tease his hair at the nape of his neck.

And then he wonders about something else.

Something far from coating your walls in his come.

Would you fit in his life?

Would you fit as well in it, as he does inside your cunt?

And then you’re clenching, hips lazily trying to meet his as you whimper, moan—

And then you scream.

Not Riley.

But Simon.

Mission accomplished.

It has become a habit.

You have become a habit.

He lands. He waits a day. He fucks you until you are raw, sore and breathless. His lips are on yours, hands still on your hips as he hears how hoarse your voice is.

“You back for long?”

“No.”

But this no is different.

It’s tinged with half a teaspoon of regret and sadness.

You hide your face when he answers now. Sometimes by slinging your arm to shield him from your eyes or by turning from him. It’s like you know he likes them. Likes being able to see each infliction of emotion in them—shimmering, dancing, storming across in front of him.

Somehow, you’ve fit into his life too well—cutting yourself a hole, forcing your way in, and making it seem as though you were always there.

Simon lets you be, too.

You have one of his t-shirts, baggy, black and covered in your perfume. He finds he has one of your hair ties around his wrist, not even realising until he slides on a pair of gloves. Flicking it against his wrist as he thinks of you, something he only allows himself to do briefly.

Things have changed. Shifted.

But the Earth hasn’t fallen off its axis and he’s not fucked up a mission. So he counts his blessings. He doesn’t know if he believes good things can happen to him, but he could be persuaded that he can have nice things. A belief he even starts to accept. A reality he begins to wish for, rather than keep at arm's length.

You’ve left the pub. You hadn’t been working every night for a while. Your studies had ended—receiving a photo of a cap and gown without your face when he was in the middle of a desert.

Now you’re working a better job, one you deserve more—it’s creative, more you. You make the world brighter, and better while he’s getting dirty and riding the world of darkness. You text him once, the day you got paid, that you bought him something nice.

Something he ripped with his teeth when he landed—much to your annoyance.

You’re no longer the girl in the pub. You’re perfectly applied make-up he fucks off your face. You’re high heels and pencil skirts—and sometimes fitted trousers that hug your arse so beautifully, he’s almost a bit jealous. You’re the pink sky at night, laughter that warms his chest, and a smile he thinks about as he falls asleep.

“What would my alias be?”

Your hand slides over a plate to him. Cheese on toast. Nothing big, nothing major, but he stares at it all the same. Because you’ve made him something.

You’ve been doing it for a while, and each time is as perplexing as the last. His brain is unable to figure out how, why and what he’s done to deserve it. Even if it’s toast, a sandwich, or a fucking meal.

Because it’s something outside of sex. It’s outside of holding the back of your head as he fucks your throat; outside of him pinning you against the dark alleyway of the pub he first saw you in, making you both cold and warm all at once.

Even if he knows—constantly turns it over and over in his mind—that this isn’t just sex. He’s not entirely sure what this is. Except…nice?

You take a bite of your own, the crunch filling the air, crumbs littering your top—his top. “My call sign.”

Simon isn’t sure why he told you about what he did. You were in his arms, warm, smelling of sex, flowers and something sharp. And, it fell out of him. Still drunk off your cunt, lost in the tenderness of your fingers on his chest, playing it a pattern with your nails.

Not everything. Fuck, he couldn’t tell you everything—wouldn’t. But you know enough.

Enough for him to know you’re not running, that you still want him knocking on your door whenever he lands—whether it's morning, noon or night.

Now, you’re making him food. Legs long, his black t-shirt skimming your thighs—all his. Looking ever so inviting, making it hard not to push you up on the counter and give your neighbours something to talk about.

“Egg.”

You snort, sharp and light. “Egg?! You’re fuckin’ rude, Riley. Egg? No, that’s shit, give me a better one.”

“But, true. You’d shatter, you’re more yolk than shell, you.”

“C’mon, be serious.”

He gives you a look, finding the one you’re giving him sultry, teasing—demanding.

“Snow.”

You stare for several seconds before you hum, crunching the corner of your food with your teeth. “Lemme guess because I’m oh-so-delicate?”

No—

It’s because you’re fucking perfect.

Because you’re his favourite season and favourite moment.

On some deeper level, he suspects it’s because you’re pure. That you’re unruined. Untainted. Your body has no scars—except the one from chicken pox and one on your hand from a glass bottle shattering. But, that’s it. He’s kissed every inch of you to know, to be 100% sure.

You’re Snow because each time he sees it, he thinks of you. Those red lips, all that fucking audacity and the way you kissed him, tasting as warm as bourbon and as sweet as sugar.

“Yeh, ‘cause you’re all pure and innocent, Sweetheart.”

You laugh, richly. Head thrown back, perfect thin neck exposed to the air—to him.

And he wants to kiss you.

He wants to taste your laugh and smile, let his hands run around the back of your thighs and feel you against every inch of him.

That’s when your eyes land on him again—all full of questions and spice. Your tongue drags across your plush bottom lip, wiping up the grease from the cheese as he swallows.

His throat suddenly dry.

Because the girl he met in the pub—the one standing before him—is standing in his t-shirt. Looking every bit delicious, good enough to eat and never come up for air.

And he thinks—

Realises, he actually, might—probably—miss you when he goes back to Price.

It’s stretched on for months. A year.

He lands, uses the key you gave him and stamps the snow from his boots, half smiling to himself as he does. Whenever he gets here, he doesn’t wait, he finds his way to whatever room you’re in.

Sometimes he doesn’t get far, your body colliding with his. All curves in his hands and arms around his neck, and he’s not sure what the fuck this is, but he likes it.

Loves it.

It’s something like a song about falling in love and a peaceful Sunday morning; it’s those moments you see in movies that make your eyes swell with tears as he stares at you, wondering how on earth you’re so goddamn amazing.

It’s familiar, and yet he has no idea what is happening next or why.

Mostly, though, Simon knows it’s something because he said your name to Johnny.

Not because he was dying, not because he was hurt. But in the middle of a normal conversation, one exchanged on some dark rooftop, stars twinkling, and eyes fixated on a building down a scope.

Normally, he wouldn’t have answered. Would have ignored him.

If y’could be anywhere, right now, Lt. Where’d y’pick?

He didn’t need to think.

He didn’t say home. Because home wasn’t his place, the pub or even the fuckin’ city he’s always ever known. It’s wherever you are. It’s where your heart beats and your bed is placed; it’s where your annoying, shitty music taste is blaring and that sleepy smile is when he wakes up next to you.

So, Simon said your name.

Simple. Easy.

Except it wasn’t simple or fucking easy. It was messy, and complicated. Because Johnny tilted his head, in that obnoxious way he does, demanding more information than he is ever prepared to ever share.

‘Fuck off, Johnny, before I punt y’off the rooftop and tell Price you’d been a cunt.’

Because you are locked away when he’s here. You are chained inside his chest, the deepest fucking secret—one no one will ever fucking take no matter how much they dig, how much they push him too.

You are his.

Something only he gets to enjoy—gets to see, hear and taste.

He’s done all of that for the last hour. Getting some sick satisfaction from edging you until you’re pleading with him, begging him with every breath you have to let you come as you wriggle and wiggle, urging him to lift your legs—just like he likes it, how you like it, and make you see fucking stars.

Now, you’re barefoot.

A different t-shirt of his hiding the welts he’s left, the growing bruises from the way he’d needed to hold you in place. Watching, observing—admiring—the oddness to your steps as you flick on the kettle. He’s always close—looming in the sun’s shadows across the kitchen he knows better than his own.

He has to be. Wants to be.

You’ve not just carved a place in your life, but in his chest—his heart. You’ve seeped into his skin, into his soul, merging and bringing to life something he thought had wilted and died. He doesn’t care that he’s vulnerable, that he’s not jagged edges and sharp stares.

“You wanna go out with me? Tonight?”

You pause, tea bag in hand, looking over your shoulder at him as if he’d asked you to slaughter a pig, a child, a whole bloody family.

The moment is tender, almost fragile.

It trembles under the weight of his question and the silence of your thoughts.

Then it stills—

“You don’t… you don’t have to do that…”

“What?”

Dashing the tea bag into the cup, you turn. Hips leaning against the counter, sigh falling from your swollen, pink lips as your arms fold. The air scented with that familiar smell your home always has—jasmine and pineapple, the sun kissing your toes and legs as your face shows thunder and rain.

The air shifts, changing. It’s speckled in ice with a cold breeze punctuated by you suddenly not able to meet his eyes.

“Date me. Change… this. I know that you… I know you don’t have time for that.”

Except he doesn’t hear that, he hears me.

He suspects you don’t say it to hurt him.

But it does.

It wounds—

It fucking burns. It’s on par with a bullet or a rusty knife, twisting and twisting until it’s hitting nerves and making muscles quake.

It worsens when the kettle clicks, ready—waiting. It blows steam under your cupboards, billowing out around the edges before it rushes to the ceiling. Twisting, turning, desperate to escape the uncomfortable space between the two of you.

But, he just wants to pull you close—impossibly close. He wants to cradle and fucking hug you, even if he never hugs anyone. Simon wants to tell you that he hasn’t been doing this with anyone else. That it’s been over a year of this, and even he knows it’s something.

Admittedly, yeah, he didn’t think he’d have fucking time for someone, and then you came in and blew that all to shit. But, on some level inside of him, he knows they aren’t the words he should be saying. So silence fills the space instead.

Doubling. Tripling. Expanding like foam and smoothing over crevices as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

And he knows he should just ask again.

Softer. Maybe with a bit more emotion. Counting in his head. One. Two, fucking Three.

Your body turning, holding out a mug you got him—big, black with tiny ghosts on it. Because you’d pestered and pestered to know what he was called. What his alias is when he shoots people. The mug made you grin when you handed it to him last time—tired of him taking your favourite. The one with a quote from a television show you keep promising to show him. Sarcastic. Almost makes his teeth show when he smiles. He almost does the same when he takes the mug, and you turn away from him.

Now when he takes it, your eyes drop to the floor. To the space between the two of you.

The one which feels vast, and far larger than the bar ever felt.

All Simon wonders is why there’s a pit opening inside of him—why it is filling him with a feeling he wants to cut out of himself. It’s not light or nice, it’s dark and twisty.

Because he’s the same person who goes on stupid solo missions where the percentage of survival is low, and still fucking comes back to base with whatever was asked of him. He’s Ghost—a man who many fear. Who is often coated in more of other people’s blood than he is dirt.

And yet this—

You.

Terrify the living fuck out of him. Not that he’s showing that. He knows he’s stood with a stiff back, and a face devoid of any emotions.

“You said it when we first… Just… I know your job is important. I know you can’t commit and I respect—”

“Sweetheart.”

Your eyes meet his. Teeth biting your lip, arms crossing over your chest.

And shit, he hopes to never see this face ever again. This nervous, unsure face that he’s put there. One which complicates everything and pulls on every string inside of him.

You are an enigma, and he’s not even sure you know it.

You’re something he never deserves, something he never thought he’d have, get, or keep.

Yet, here you are.

Someone who has seen every inch of him. Knows what he does. Where he goes. You even know brief moments of his past, the parts of him that he’d rather take to the grave.

You are important. You matter.

He’s falling—free-falling, in fact—and has been for a while, he didn’t even acknowledge it. Pushing it down, letting it sit with all the other things he doesn’t want to deal with.

“Do’ya wanna go out with me tonight?”

Each word hits you, strokes you. He watches as each syllable lands, your eyes reading him.

“You back for long, Simon?”

His lips twitch. “Little bit.”

And then you smile. All devious and cunning, lips twisting as you unfold your arms and adjust your stance. “I think I’d prefer a takeaway. Keep you to myself, while I 'ave you.”

Standing, crossing the small space of your kitchen as he cages you in. Your hand clutching his cheek, soft, gentle, and more than he fucking deserves.

His head lowers, lips close to your ear as you curl your body into him as he whispers, all gruff and quiet so only you—and not a fly or spirit could hear—says, “I’ve always been just yours, sweetheart.”

Simon doesn't expect a response. More a kiss. Maybe even a roll of your hips.

It's why he doesn't expect the words, "I'd hoped so", or the way they make him feel like he's walking on air.

2K notes · View notes

beyondthesefourwalls · 1 year

Text

Welcome To My Masterlist!

My name is Alli and I write sometimes.

Masterlist under the cut

✨Top Gun: Maverick✨

Series:

✨Bradley Bradshaw:

Remember You Even When I Don't: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement. (completed)

The Forgotten Moments: A One Shot Collection: Before he had to remember you, Bradley got to experience the whirlwind that was meeting and falling in love with you (the first time).

All stories in the collection can be read independently, but will precede or coincide with Remember You Even When I Don't.

This Love Came Back to Me: You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; truly, you stopped before the two of you could even really begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it. (completed)

One Shots:

✨ Bradley Bradshaw:

A Change to Everything: Marriage wasn’t an option for you. Bradley knew this and had promised you that what you had is and would always be enough for him. A few overpriced rings wouldn’t change that, so long as you promised to love him forever without one. But he buys you one anyway, and despite every promise you made to yourself, you wonder what it would be like if maybe, just maybe, you ever decided to put it on.

What Goes Around (Comes Around): Bradley didn’t do relationships, and neither did you. The arrangement you had worked perfectly for ten years, getting together whenever your paths crossed. But after the two of you were stationed permanently on the same squad, suddenly what you have isn’t quite enough for him anymore. It’s not until a close call in the air that he finally gathers the courage to admit it.

To Make a House a Home: House hunting in California was proving to be a challenge. Leave it to Bradley to manage to pull off the biggest surprise you’ve ever gotten.

The Art of Subtlety: You were quiet, almost shy, but Bradley suspected there was more to you than meets the eye. When Jake claims that it’s impossible for a woman to successfully fake an orgasm, you prove him wrong (while proving Bradley absolutely right) right there in the middle of the Hard Deck. With his world tilted on its axis at your little display, he’s left wondering: why are you so good at faking it, and how would you really sound if he’s the one bringing you pleasure?

Dancing in the Dark: Bradley was never one for clubs. Flashing lights, dance remixes of the same four songs, and overpriced watered down drinks just weren’t his thing. But you had begged him so prettily to go with you that he couldn’t help but agree. It was exactly as bad as he thought it was going to be, but when he saw how irresistible you looked on the dance floor, he decided to get his revenge in a way that left both of you satisfied but wanting more.

Clandestine Meetings: Bradley was coming home today. Six weeks on a no-contact deployment, stuck on a carrier in the middle of some non disclosed body of water, and he’s finally coming home. Normally, you’d be bursting at the seams with happy excitement. But the two of you had left things in an...interesting place. When he’s finally standing in front of you, you can tell by his cold and dark eyes that he remembers, too. But he’s had six weeks to think of exactly how you can earn his forgiveness, and you’re all too willing to do anything it takes.

Keep It Undercover: You and Bradley had shared a few beautiful weeks together, years after first meeting. You had been content with leaving it as a beautiful, delicious memory; something that could have been, if the stars would have aligned. Only now he was stationed in Fightertown permanently, and while he didn’t know what exactly that meant for the two of you long term, he knew what he wanted. He didn’t care about your age or that you outranked him. After all, he had always liked his girls a little bit older.

The Over/Under: Your friends insisted that the best way to get over someone was by getting under someone else. But you had been over your ex for a long time before you ever signed the papers, and you had no intention on hooking up with anyone. Then an attractive man with a mustache that really shouldn't look as good as it does catches your eye, and you suddenly forgot why you were hesitant in the first place.

✨Javy Machado:

I Don't Love You Like I Used To: After so many years with you, Javy Machado doesn't love you like he used to. He loves you so much more. For roosterforme's #love is in the air tgm Writing Challenge!

The Double Negative Effect: Javy knows deep down after he goes into G-LOC that he’s not going to be selected for the mission. He goes to a bar on his own to drink away some of his sorrows, and while he’s there, he meets someone who is having just as rough of a time as he is. Misery loves company, and together, they cancel out the bad day the other is having, replacing it with a night they’ll remember for all the right reasons.

And I Want To Make Her Mine: Javy thought it was too good to be true when he saw you, the girl he had crushed on for almost a year, standing in the Hard Deck. But there you were, looking just as beautiful as you always had. He thought maybe he’d finally get his chance with you after all this time. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one whose attention you caught.

Merry Christmas Mishaps: Christmas looked a little different this year, and Javy knew you were having a hard time adjusting to it. You were used to the lights and the hustle and - God help him, the snow - that came with where you had called home for so long. You had given all that up to move to California to be with him, and he decided that if he couldn’t get you back on the east coast for the holiday, maybe he could improvise and start making new traditions here together, with a few surprises along the way.

The Great Escape: All you wanted on your wedding day was some time alone with your new husband. Luckily for you, Javy was more than game to make an escape and has just the hiding place in mind.

An Aviation Special: You had always wanted to experience Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but when it starts to go sideways thanks to your travel companions, you fear the whole trip, maybe even the whole city, has been ruined for you. But then a handsome stranger swoops in when some drunk idiot gets too handsy, and your night takes an unexpected turn for the better.

The Plus One: You couldn’t believe he was here. He had told you he would be, over and over again, but part of you had convinced yourself it was too good to be true. There was no way a man as perfect as Javy Machado would be so into you after you spent one night together, months ago, that he’d fly out to be your date to a wedding for people he’d never met before. Yet here he was, looking as good as a dream. By the end of the night you knew one thing for certain: a weekend with him would never be enough.

✨Javy Machado x Natasha Trace (Navy):

Repeated Offenses: Javy wasn’t sure what the mission was that called them back to Top Gun, but he knew if he was there, Phoenix would be too. He seeks her out that first night, knowing that it would be the same game between them as it always was. One of them was bound to get burned one of these days, but luckily for him, he’s never been afraid of playing with fire.

✨Jake Seresin:

Flight Suit Aphrodisiac: There was something about seeing Jake in his flight suit that got to you every single time. It had always been attractive, sure, but nowadays it was like something of an aphrodisiac. It didn’t matter what you were doing or where you were; when you saw him in it, you had to have him.

Twin Fire Signs: When the majority of your squad intentionally leaves you drunk and alone at a bar, you resign yourself to finding your own way home and dealing with your wounded pride in peace. But then your phone rings, the name of the last person you expected to be calling you on a Friday night flashing on your screen. You know you shouldn’t answer, but too much tequila has never led to great decisions.

Cowboy Resolutions: New Year’s Eve at the Hard Deck with all of your friends was a tradition, one that you loved and held close to your heart. When you and your husband decide to slip away from the crowd for a late night stroll on the beach right before midnight, you realize that neither of you had the purest of intentions when it came to wanting to get away.

A Verbal Agreement: You hated Jake Seresin. Truly, you did. Or at least you strongly disliked him. But as it was, he did something for you that no other man could, and it kept you coming back for more.

✨Jake Seresin x Natasha Trace (Hannix):

Hell Bent, Heaven Sent: Truthfully, Jake didn’t like anything that she made him feel. Annoyed. Inferior. Submissive. But she also made his heart speed up and his palms sweat and despite everything he felt better when she was with him. Natasha Trace made him question everything about himself.

Alli's TGM Mix & Match Blurb Party Masterlist

*I do not give permission to copy/steal, translate, or publish elsewhere*

#alli writes #masterlist #tgm fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #beyondthesefourwalls #jake seresin x reader #javy machado x reader #hannix #jake seresin x natasha trace #natasha trace x javy machado

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