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sarahowritesostucky · 27 days

Text

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 4861

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, mental illness, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

11. Palmiers

Bucky

Because he’s on the far end of the spectrum, Bucky’s sex drive is affected by his condition. He wakes up hard almost every morning of his life, and Steve doesn’t need much encouragement to get himself worked up into the same state very quickly. Mutual morning jerk offs were always bound to become part of their routine.

They take a shower and stand toe to toe, hands sliding and groping all over each others’ slick bodies, pulling on their cocks until both of them are shooting off against each other’s bellies. The water washes it away, and Steve gives him a deep, happy kiss. “Mmm. Mornin’.”

“Blegch. Go brush your teeth, you heathen.”

Steve laughs and gets out of the shower. Bucky stays in for a few minutes longer, adjusting the spray to its hardest setting and letting the hot water beat down on his back and shoulders. He sighs and stretches his neck this way and that, trying to get his vertebrae to pop, but his muscles are all too tight, and the stretching just seems to make it worse. Bucky drops his head in defeat. In all honesty, his shoulders and neck and back are all pretty fucked after months of near-constant use of his prosthetic.

Steve’s right: he doesn’t usually wear it this much. And he’s also right that Bucky’s been wearing it all day every day because he wants to feel powerful and able bodied in front of Mary. As per usual, Steve is the first one to have noticed what maladaptive behavior pattern he’s doing and why, and pointed it out to him. It really is for the best, Bucky knows. Because he can’t sustain wearing the arm all the time anymore. The thing is just too damn heavy.

The engineers who designed it have made tweaks and adjustments over the years. They’ve done all they can to lighten the load as much as possible, but the thing still weighs over twenty pounds. Twenty pounds doesn’t sound like much, but when it’s pulling on the same muscle groups day in and day out, everything in Bucky’s body winds up getting strained and unbalanced. He understands better now, how women fuck up their necks so badly from shouldering their purses (or their tits) around. A little bit of weight makes a big difference.

As a Dom, Bucky may have a tiny problem admitting when he needs help. He has to be in quite a bit of pain, trouble, or both, before he’ll ever speak up and allow himself to be vulnerable like that. It’s an inherent behavior that shrinks have been trying to therapize and medicate out of him since he was a kid, but nothing ever changed it much. Falling in love with Steve helped; Bucky can let himself be more vulnerable around him. But even still, it’s no small thing that he regularly approaches his husband to ask for help in getting his arm back on correctly (Bucky can do it, but it’s a pain in the ass, getting the mechanism lined up just right before it’ll take).

He gets out of the shower and dries off, then approaches Steve with the prosthesis. “Gimme a hand?”

Steve makes a cheerful noise of acknowledgement around his mouthful of toothpaste, spits and rinses, then takes the arm from Bucky. He lines it up just so, and then Bucky feels the deep shudder of the arm’s inner workings coming to life as they recognize their mate. The arm attaches and Steve lets go.

“Thanks babe.”

“Uh huh.”

It’s as Bucky’s bending over and pulling up his underwear and joggers that a spasm runs through his back and he cries out in a pained, “Ah!”

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

Gritting his teeth, Bucky slowly stands back up. He’s able to get his pants up, but when he tests the movement of his neck and shoulders, the pain flares again. It feels like everything between the base of his skull and his mid back is seizing up. “Fuck,” he hisses, frustrated. It’s his day off. He’d been planning to go to the gym for his long workout.

Steve steps up and puts a worried hand on his left shoulder. “Babe? Do you need it off?”

“No. I need some painkillers and a magnesium tablet,” he grunts, already turning around (full body, because turning his head is a bad idea right now). “Fuck.” He starts off for the kitchen.

Steve follows along with worried protests, telling him to lay his “stubborn ass” down and he’ll get it for him. Bucky ignores him and goes to the kitchen cabinet where they keep their supplement stuff. He winds up yelling again when he tries to reach up and grab the ibuprofen. “Fuck!” he says angrily.

“Babe, I said to let me do it,” Steve scolds, his hand back on Bucky’s shoulder. “And let me take this off. It’s hurting you.”

“Steve, back off,” he snaps, angry and waspish from being in pain, and from being frustrated with his own goddamn body.

“What’s going on?”

Bucky turns his head without thinking, hisses in pain, and then turns himself full-body to face in Mary’s direction. She’s standing there looking at the two of them in concern, one hand holding one of those swirly, flaky, crack-cookies that she makes, and the other holding a cup of tea. Her eyes widen at the sight of Bucky’s arm and body, reminding him that this is the first time she’s seen him without a shirt on. “Nothin’,” Bucky grunts.

“Shit,” she says. “Are you guys fighting? Is this a couples’ fight? I’ll just …” She turns to leave back towards her room.

“We’re not fighting,” Steve says. “Buck’s just being an ass. He gets that way when he’s in pain.”

Bucky would turn his head to glare at him, but it isn’t worth another flair of agony in his shoulder. “I’m fine,” he says, when Mary comes back over. “It’s fine,” he stresses. He opens the pill bottle and dumps three capsules into his palm. “Jeez, will everybody stop babying me? I just need a glass of water.”

“I’ll get it,” Steve says, causing Bucky to huff once again. “Don’t be a jerk, babe.”

“Why are you in pain?” Mary asks, her eyes tracing all over the left side of Bucky’s scarred up body. “Is it … does your arm hurt?”

“No. It just fucks up my muscles, sometimes.”

“Your muscles?”

Bucky sighs impatiently. “Steve, do you know where the heating pad is?”

“I’ll have to look.” Steve has returned with a glass of water, and Bucky tosses back the handful of pills, wincing at how even the slight motion of raising his arm up makes his trap twinge in protest. “Ugh.”

“You should get a massage,” Mary suggests, and Bucky fights not to lash out at her. She doesn’t know that one of his biggest pet peeves in life is having other people tell him what he “should” do.

“My PT maxed out back in October,” he tells her. “Doesn’t renew again till January.”

Steve takes the water glass from him once he’s done. “Go lie face down on the bed,” he murmurs. “I’ll find the heating pad.”

“Well I could do it,” Mary blurts out. Both Bucky and Steve pause and look at her. She looks surprised, too, as though she hadn’t been planning to say the words until they were out of her mouth, and now doesn’t know how to continue “Um, that is ..." she gestures weakly with her cookie. “I just meant I know how to, if you wanted.” Eventually her cheeks color and she looks away. “Erm, Nevermind.”

“Wait,” Steve says. When Mary turns back, he’s looking at her earnestly, and Bucky thinks, Oh no. “You know how to give a back massage? Like a real one?”

“Yeah. My, ah, my ex always had neck problems, so.” She shrugs, looking embarrassed. “I took a class at the community college, learned the basics.”

Bucky blinks. That’s the subbiest fucking thing he’s ever heard. “You did this for the husband that beat you?” he drawls, immediately regretting it because it comes out sounding way more derogatory than he intends it to. “Sorry. I just … actually would pay good money for a massage right now. If you know how to do it.”

Mary bites her lip, looking deliciously shy and sweet. Bucky’s mood sours as he realizes that she doesn’t really want to. He’s about to let her off the hook, but then some unconscious movement he makes without meaning to has him flinching in pain again. “Sheezus,” he complains.

“It’s not usually this bad,” Steve worries.

“I must’a slept on it wrong.”

Mary nods, as if this settles it. “Okay. Well, go in the bedroom and tie your hair up so it's out of the way.” She turns to Steve, all but dismissing Bucky now that she’s got a task to complete. Bucky fights back an amused smirk as he heads towards the bedroom, and he hears Mary bossing Steve around, telling him she needs dry oil, the heating pad, towels, and all the seat cushions off the couch.

The fuck does she need those for? Bucky thinks as he pads back into his and Steve’s room.

He finds out a moment later, when Mary and Steve come in with a couch cushion each, and Steve goes back out to get another. They lay them in a line on the bed, and Mary directs Bucky to lie on top of them, with his body placed just so and his face down just there, and … Oh. He gets it.

She’s left space between the cushion under Bucky’s chest, and the next cushion up, which supports his forehead. The gap creates a drop through for his face—like a massage table. And when she shapes the towel into a donut shape and sticks it there, it's pretty much perfect.

“Oh,” Bucky says, as he’s settling into place. “Oh, that’s actually really smart.” He can’t see Mary from his position, but somehow he senses her preening over the praise anyway. Steve returns from the bathroom with the heating pad and oil. “Found this stuffed in the back of the linen closet. I don’t know what ‘jojoba’ is, but, um … it’s either that or the virgin olive out in the pantry.”

“Do not use that,” Bucky grumbles. “Shit’s expensive, and I don’t wanna smell like garlic truffle for the next three days.”

“That’ll work fine.” Mary is totally task focused, ignoring Bucky’s surliness and telling Steve to apply the heating pad across Bucky’s shoulders and neck for thirty minutes before they get started.

“Thirty minutes?!” Bucky complains, unable to see anything but the top of the bedcovers as the two of them go out into the hallway.

“Just relax, Babe,” Steve says (and if Bucky isn’t mistaken, he sounds amused). “Take a nap.”

“I just woke up!” He scoffs at the bedspread when the door quietly ‘snicks’ shut and he realizes that he’s been abandoned. “Well okay then,” he mutters petulantly. Steve is right: he does turn into an ass when he’s in pain. Hmm. Maybe he should work on that.

Steve

Steve turns the tv onto a low volume so they can talk without Bucky hearing. “Sorry about him,” he says. “He’s a humongous jerk whenever he’s feeling crummy.”

“You mean it’s not just all the time?” Mary drawls.

“He’s … just one of those people you have to learn to love before you like them.” Mary raises an eyebrow, and Steve winces. “Er, that sounded harsh. Don’t tell him I said that.”

She twists her lips and looks down. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thanks, Hon. You want more tea?”

“Yes please. There’s more of the palmiers in a baggie next to the coffee pot, if you want any.”

“Heck yeah, I love those things.” Steve had thought the prepackaged ones at Starbucks were good, hadn’t even realized that they weren’t supposed to be all stale and hard like that. Just another commercialized pastry that Mary’s gone and ruined him for. He goes into the kitchen and makes himself coffee and Mary tea, knowing by now how she takes it.

She thanks him silently as he returns and joins her on the couch, both of them sitting close to one another on the chaise, since it’s the only part of the couch that still has its cushion.

"Palmier is French. Know what else they call these?" Mary asks.

Steve's lips quirk. Mary's always got these little facts she knows about the origins of this pastry or that. It's cute. Endearing. "No," he plays along. "What?"

"Elephant ears, because of the shape, see?"

"Oh yeah. Huh. That's neat."

She goes back to eating and sipping at her teacup, and after a moment of unrequited, affectionate staring, Steve looks away. "Elephant ears," he murmurs, trying not to be mopey. "That's funny."

They split the palmiers between them, and aside from the sounds of them munching cookies and sipping their drinks, it’s quiet for a long time. Steve made both the tea and the coffee very hot, so they at least have the excuse of cradling and blowing on their steaming mugs to keep the silence from being too awkward. Mary keeps her eyes trained forward, but Steve gets the sense that she isn’t really paying attention to the home renovation program that’s playing on the tv. His suspicions are confirmed when she eventually asks,

“So: His arm.”

Steve inhales slowly. “Yeah. His arm.”

“What happened?”

Steve frowns. He can tell by her inflection that she’s asking not just about the arm, but about the state of Bucky’s entire left side from shoulder to hip. “We were in the army,” he confides. “Deployed overseas. I made captain young, but he was a specialist in the field: a sniper. So I wasn’t put into the same types of situations as he was. His convoy got blown up by an IED. And when the dust settled …” He shrugs. “No more arm.”

“Oh.” Mary sits there and absorbs that information. “I guess I kind of figured it was something like that. I mean what else is there, besides like, a shark attack or something?”

Steve’s mouth twitches. Shark attack, ha. He’ll have to suggest that one to Buck. Might be fun to lie about, the next time a stranger asks. “Naw, just a boring old bomb. And afterwards, well. It was a long road for him, after. He didn’t have the arm when I met him.”

Mary turns her head, surprised. “Oh. You two didn’t meet in the army?”

“No, after. I met him at the V.A., when he was already angry, hurt, and didn’t want to be where he was.” Steve looks over and gives her a meaningful look. “Kind of like when I first met you.”

Her eyes widen, and then her face colors and she looks away again, pulling her knees up and hunkering over her mug. “Was I really that bad?” she mumbles.

“... You were pretty bad, Honey.”

She frowns and doesn’t say anything, and Steve decides to leave it alone. “So yeah, his arm. He got into a program for experimental cybernetics. It was a big gamble. Back then, he still had his arm down to nearly the elbow, which meant he could use a lot of the different types of prostheses they had on the market. The less arm you have, the less they can do for you. The surgeries for the implant required removal all the way up to and including his left shoulder blade. So if he went through with it and the procedures didn’t work out, he’d be left with less function than he started with.”

“Jeez.”

“Hm, yeah. It was a risk.” Steve stares across the living room as he remembers all of the hospital stays and surgeries and revisions and therapy appointments. “Luckily it worked out. They replaced some bones with metal supports, some of his natural muscle with enhanced synthetic tissue. His body didn’t reject any of the junk they were putting in him, which was the biggest worry. All in all, it took five surgeries over the course of three years, and then a shit ton of physiotherapy. Buck says it was worth it, now, but it wasn’t a walk in the park when it was happening, I’ll tell you that.”

Beside him, Mary makes a sad little noise in her throat. “But … all that and it still gives him pain?”

“Yeah. He gets PT for it, but like he said; it never winds up lasting the full year. I force him to my veterans' support group when I can, but he’s gotta be in a really charitable mood for that.” Steve snorts humorlessly. “He’s always hated being disabled. It doesn’t jive with his DPD. You know that stereotype about men: never wanting to stop and ask for directions?”

“Yeah.”

"Well it's true. And then you take a guy who’s as far on the spectrum as Bucky is, and it’s ten times worse.” He widens his eyes in emphasis and gets a little giggle out of Mary for it, which makes him warm with pride. He pulls his feet up onto the couch next to Mary’s and nudges her knee with his. “Just fair warning: He’s the worst patient I’ve ever seen. So don’t take it personally if he’s grumpy at you in there.”

Mary frowns and looks away. “Well, I mean I don’t have to do this. If he doesn’t want to.”

“Pretty sure he wants to. And he needs help with it, whether his stubborn ass wants to admit it or not.”

She nods, though she still doesn’t look confident. “It’s been over a year since I worked on anybody …”

“Well then this’ll be good practice for you, won’t it?” Steve nudges her again in encouragement and tells her to finish up her tea: He doesn’t expect Bucky’ll lie around patiently for much longer.

(“Oh, and Hon, maybe don’t tell him we were out here talking about him this whole time.”)

(“Duh.”)

In the bedroom, Mary climbs onto the bed next to where Bucky is laid out on the couch cushions. She takes the heating pad off his neck and puts it aside, looking nervously over the broad expanse of his back. “Um …” She reaches for the oil bottle and pumps some into her hands. She spends a long, long time just spreading it between her hands and staring at Bucky, until finally he snaps,

“What’s the holdup?”

“Babe, be nice,” Steve warns. “Mary? You need anything?”

“Um, no. It’s just … usually I'd ..." She makes an aborted move, like she's thinking about repositioning herself, but winds up staying where she is. "Right," she mutters to herself. "This'll work fine." She reaches forward like she’ll start rubbing Bucky’s back, hesitates, shuffles closer to his side, then sets her hands on his shoulders.

Bucky doesn’t so much as twitch, but he’s not used to new people touching him, and Steve would bet money that his eyes are clenched shut right now.

“Okay,” Mary warns. “I haven’t done this in awhile, so don’t get your hopes up for a miracle or anything.”

“Anything’ll be better than what I can do myself,” Bucky says gruffly, voice somewhat muffled by the cushions. “Just go to town. You can’t hurt me any worse.”

Steve can see Mary’s face, and he knows by now what she looks like when she’s flustered. Awkwardly, he steps to the side, heading for the door. “I’ll just go watch some—”

“No!” Mary squeaks, and when Steve turns back around she’s looking at him with wide eyes. “Don’t leave,” she says, like being left alone touching Bucky is the worst possible thing that could happen. Steve doesn’t miss how the muscles in Bucky’s arms do tense at hearing her plead for Steve to stay.

“Uhm, okay. I’ll just … be over here.” He leans back against the dresser, feeling almost painfully awkward. Once again, he’s reminded how Mary has shown absolutely no desire to engage in sexual contact with them. He hopes she doesn’t think this is a ploy to force physical contact. She was the one who suggested it, after all.

She starts at the base of Bucky’s skull, rubbing her thumbs in small circles. “As I go along, try to tell me which areas feel the worst,” she murmurs, and Bucky hums in acknowledgement. Steve watches as she pushes and circles and kneads Bucky’s neck, working down on into his shoulders. He’s struck by how feminine and tiny her hands look against Bucky’s body … and then has to steer his mind away from the thought of how tiny they might look in other places.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky gasps, when she reaches a certain spot on the left side of his neck.

She freezes. “Bad?”

“Nngh. Good,” he slurs. “That whole area from there goin’ down into my back ‘n all around my shoulder blade is where it’s worst.”

“Okay.” She tentatively presses around in and around the left side of his neck and shoulder. “Oh, yeah. It starts right here and goes down.” She slides her hand down the muscle and hums. “Oh, I can feel it.”

(Steve tries really hard not to think sexual thoughts.)

“Riiight here? and … here?"

Between the cushions, Bucky’s voice comes out in a series of garbled moans.

“That’d be a yes,” Steve interprets, and Mary actually shoots him a grin at that. Glad to have cut the tension a bit, he dares to take a few steps closer to the bed. He peers down at what Mary’s doing, the way her fingers dig in at sharp, focused points in some places and rub more gently in others. “It’s your trap that’s the worst,” she mutters distractedly, feeling around with her hands and staring off into space with the tip of her tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth. It’s cute. “Mmm, but probably your levator scapulae, too. Those tend to get fucked up hand in hand.”

“Mmrr.”

“And here: your rhomboid.”

“Ooh!”

“Tender?”

“Shuyeahhh,” Bucky grunts, then his breath hitches when she digs into another spot. “Oh, yep yep right there. Was’that?”

Steve can’t help but grin. Bucky sounds like he’s drooling at this point.

“Your trapezius muscle. It's big. Does a lot of work, covers a large area. Probably the main offender.” Mary hums and feels around a little more. “Oof, yeah. You’ve got a whole bunch of tension right here.”

“You can feel it?” Steve asks, fascinated. He can't see anything.

“Yeah. Here, gimme your hand.” Steve is taken aback when she grabs his hand and guides his fingers into place, her own smaller hand pressing down. “Riiight there. You feel it?”

Steve swallows thickly. “Ah, yeah.” His eyes flick from her hand on his hand on Bucky’s back, up to her face, and back again before she can catch him looking. “Y-yeah it’s hard.” He grimaces at his choice of words (If he's not careful, "it" soon will be).

“I’m gonna focus on this one for a few minutes,” Mary tells Bucky. Then you can guide me around to the other bad spots.”

“Sounds good,” he slurs. Steve is about to take a step back again, but then Bucky calls out, “Hey Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Pay attention to what she’s doin’. It feels really fuckin’ good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm. You can learn n' do it next time,” he says dreamily. On his back, Mary’s hands still for the briefest of seconds. “S’goood.”

Steve nods and comes back to sit on the bed. “Okay,” he agrees, scooting in close and glancing at Mary. Her face looks pinched all of a sudden, her expression stiffened as if in annoyance. “I promise I’m not as dumb as I look,” he jokes, and watches as her face smooths out and she smiles a little.

“Oh! Oh no it’s … it’s okay, I don’t mind. I’ll teach you how.”

“Don’t mind me, m’just a teaching tool,” Bucky drawls, and Steve laughs and pats his shoulder.

“Yeah you are. So shut up and let her teach.”

Bucky grunts and shuts up. Steve looks to Mary for instruction. He can tell she’s uncomfortable, but she manages to hide it well and keep herself on track. The more he pays attention, the sooner she can get herself out of this and never have to do it again. “Ready to learn,” he tells her.

“Now when you’re doing this, you can get more leverage if you straddle his waist.” She says this like it’s a foregone assumption that she would never dare to sit on Bucky’s waist, and Steve is sure she doesn’t notice the grumpy huff of breath Bucky gives.

“Right,” Steve says, pained. “Okay, so where are the bad spots again?”

“Put your hand here.” She takes his hand again and places it just to the left of Bucky’s spine at the level of his shoulder blade. “Slide your fingers out. There. Feel that difference? Feel how it changes when you move out to just … there?” She guides his fingers, and Steve nods.

“Y-yeah.” Mostly, he’s just thinking about how nice Mary’s warm, oiled, tiny hand feels guiding his hand around. “Yeah.”

“The trap’s on top, but there are other muscles underneath of this one, and that differentiation you feel is where the rhomboid is ending and the—”

She keeps talking, and Steve tries to pay attention and learn, he really does. But his mind is a veritable sieve, for how well he retains the information. It’s all in one ear and out the other, ninety percent of his attention stuck on Mary’s hands on him, guiding him, pressing on his fingers and gliding his touch over Bucky’s skin. Fuck, how did they wind up here?

Eventually, having taught Steve the basics, Mary lets him go and works on Bucky’s shoulders for a little while more. For the most part it’s quiet, with Bucky making soft grunts of pain whenever she finds a new cluster of knotted muscle, and sighs of relief once she works them out.

Her hands linger on Bucky’s mid back when she’s done. She doesn’t seem to know what to do. “Erm. Okay. I think … I think that’s it.”

When neither Bucky nor Steve says anything, she retreats on her own, getting off the bed and looking between Bucky’s prone form and Steve’s sorrowful expression. “So, kay. You can get up, if you want. Just move slowly.”

Bucky’s right hand gives her the thumbs up symbol, but the entire rest of his body doesn’t move. “Thanks Mare. Just give us a second. That was really good. Thank you. Thanks for teaching Steve.”

It’s the “Thanks for teaching Steve” that seems to do it. Mary’s expression firms up and she nods curtly, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. Steve stays sitting on the bed next to Bucky in silence for a long minute, then says knowingly, “Got a boner?”

“Yep.”

*This chapter would've had the "breaking point," but I don't like to post chapters of more than 4-5000 wordcounts on Tumblr. So the next part will be up in a bit once I fine tune and add to it.

**And to anyone who's only ever had store bought, pre-packaged palmiers: I'm so sorry. Along with Madeleines, those should never be eaten more than a few hours max after they've been baked.

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

Will Miller: Sex in Publix

A/N: FINALLY writing for Will Fucking “Ironhead” Miller from Triple Frontier!!! So excited, my dears!! Here’s some smut about you helping Will recover from his violent cereal aisle incident at Publix... which results in you two having shameless public sex.

Pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, reference to traumatic experience, sex in public (obvs) Inspiration: WILL’S SPEECH from the opening scene of the movie. Serious big dick energy 🥵

Word Count: ~2.5k

** THE SPEECH **

Quoted from Triple Frontier’s opening scene

Parts that are referenced in this fic are in bold below. (You seriously need to watch it, though...)

About five years ago, when I was on leave... I found myself standing in the middle of the cereal aisle at the Publix... with my arm around some guy's throat. I was squeezing so hard he pissed himself. My fiancée at the time had to climb on my back just so I didn’t actually kill the guy. Do you know why I was doing this? Because he hadn’t moved his cart when I asked. I was the best of the best, able to shut down, control, manipulate... all basic human instincts towards one goal: the completion of my mission. But the effects of committing extreme violence on other human beings are biological and physiological. That’s the price of being a warrior.

Fic begins after ‘Keep reading’ ...

***************

A/N: Why yes, I just inserted the same gif again, so that you have the image right above, for purposes of the description of this mouthwatering motherfucker doing his GODDAMN CHEWING GUM LOWER LIP TONGUE THING in the third paragraph 😛

“We shouldn’t even be here...”

“Will, you say that every time,” you remind your fiancé as he strolls your cart through the aisles at Publix, slowly approaching Aisle 6. You can feel him tense up now as you’re drawing near. “It’s like I told you, babe—the best way to work through your shit is to come and revisit the scene of the crime.”

“Crime?” he rolls his tongue around the piece of gum he’s chewing, lets it slide along the inside of his full pink lower lip. He knows just what he’s doing: making it bulge in a way that looks fucking delicious. That action in itself is a crime calling for arrest. “You know the guy didn’t press charges.”

“That’s because you threatened to kill him if he did. Besides, the poor bastard had just pissed all over the floor; I’m pretty sure he wasn’t going wild to include that kind of detail if he filed a police report.”

He shrugs that off with a half-laugh. Tries to ignore how he had choked a total stranger with such brutal force... simply because he hadn’t moved his cart when Will had asked. “The fact stands that I’m criminally innocent.”

“Of course. The perfect model citizen,” you can’t help but indulge him in a playful little compliment. “With model good looks, too.”

Will rolls his eyes, those eyes you constantly effuse are the most gorgeous shade of blue. He never seems to think it’s true. “Butter me up, why don’t you.”

“Like I always do.”

He cracks a smile, which quickly vanishes as you reach Aisle 6. “Speaking of which, didn’t we just finish the butter in the fridge? I’ll go and grab some; maybe you can get the cereal, then meet me in the dairy aisle...”

“Nice try, big guy—not happening. Come on,” you urge, taking a soft yet firm hold of his muscular upper arm. “What, are you scared of Cap’n Crunch or something? Man up, Captain. Don’t be a pussy ass bitch.”

“Cap’n Crunch is creepy as shit. Freaked me out as a kid,” he says with an exaggerated cringe. “But seriously, babe—you know that going back there makes me... twitch.”

“And I’ll be there to hold your hand, and talk you through it, like I always am,” you reassure him. “Will, it’s gotten better every time we visit. We’ve made real progress; it’s a process, and to be honest, I think it’s almost finished.”

He bites that luscious lip of his. “What if it isn’t.”

“Then we’ll keep trying till it is, okay? You have to trust me. Either way, we’ll hurry home, soon as we’re done... so you can fuck me.”

His eyes light up at that, just as you knew they would, and he pushes the cart straight ahead. Not afraid to admit he’s been played. “Damn does my girl know how to control and manipulate...”

“I learned from the best of the best, as they say. My big strong ironhead fiancé.”

As it turns out today, the sex will happen long before you leave the store. Neither of you will be able to wait.

***************

“So. How you feeling?” you ask him, standing by his side in the spot where it happened. As he stands still and stares, you reach up to comb your fingers through the soft golden spikes of his hair, hoping that the tender loving touch will help his healing.

Will chews his gum a little harder, with a firm clench of his jaw. Blue eyes a little darker. And good God—you shouldn’t be having these thoughts, but fuck, the smoldering look on his face right now is just about the hottest thing you ever saw...

You can see the scenes replay inside his mind. Not just the incident itself, choking a random guy in Publix half to death, squeezing so hard the bastard lost his breath and pissed himself—but more importantly, the underlying cause. Years of trauma, molding Will into a man that he himself feared and despised. So many years spent searching for the kind of peace he always craved but thought he’d never find.

He tells you often how he found it in your arms; though you’re a sucker for his charms, you always brush the line aside. That shit’s just corny. And besides, he only says it when he’s horny... which is all the fucking time.

One of the many things that you two have in common. Ever since Will Miller claimed you as his woman, the two of you have been getting it on so fucking often that it’s probably a crime.

You try to stop your mind from wandering in that direction. Will needs to process heavy shit right now and you’re supposed to help him. Shouldn’t get distracted by your own lady erection, as you silently admire him in all his alpha male perfection... mind burning with questions—like, but how the hell can it even be possible to be so fucking beautiful...?

His hands aren’t twitching in the way that often happens when he’s here, but still, he’s awfully tense and quieter than usual. Maybe it’s time to head out of the cereal aisle; return some other time, after a little while. You hold him close to whisper in his ear, stroking his arm with a warmhearted smile. “Listen, babe—if you don’t want to talk... then let’s go home and crack open some beer, or a bottle of wine... I’ll suck your cock, and everything will be just fine. I’m proud of you for coming here today. Now let’s get out of here so you can come someplace better, okay?”

Now at that, Will at last has a few words to say. He snaps out of his self-hating haze and attacks you just with the sheer power of his deep blue gaze. “Mmm, you mean like deep inside my filthy little whore of a fiancée?”

You feign offense, reacting with a gasp, dealing his upper arm a playful little slap. “Captain Miller! What gives you the right to talk to me like that—in public, no less? Show some damn respect.”

He answers with a flirty, dirty laugh. “Respect my ass.”

“I do, and you know that. It’s perfect,” you remind him as you reach around to grab it through his pants, loving the way the sculpted muscle tenses up beneath your hands. “And I respect it even better when it’s naked, so let’s get—”

“Gimme a minute,” he interrupts you with a kiss on the top of your head. “You know, before you started talking all that frisky business... I was just about to tell you that I think we’re finally finished. Babe, you did it.”

You pause, dropping your jaw—does he mean what you think he does? Now that the tone is back to serious, you free his fine ass from the grasp of your horny claws. “...did it?”

Will smiles and nods. “I know my stubborn ass kept resisting these visits. But you were right, babe. Like always. I think I’ve finally gotten past this shit. I mean—not all my shit; that’s a serious beast. But the whole Publix incident, at least. I just... today I finally felt released. At peace with it.”

There are no words to capture how giddy you feel. You wrap your arms around his neck with an excited squeal, heartbeat happily racing. “Babe, that’s amazing! We did it. I may be the one with all the brilliant ideas, but you were smart enough to listen.”

He lets out a soft giggle, hugging you so hard it tickles. “I still say you get all the credit. Manipulating me with all those promises of sex the way you did. Straight up forcing me into submission.”

“Oh, don’t put it that way. Now let’s not forget who’s the dom in the bedroom. Promise you’ll always play Captain, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles. “Whatever you say.”

The one thing on your mind as you snuggle into his embrace is this man smells like actual heaven... hot damn. You pull back from the hug, desperate to get home and get fucked. But there’s still one more thing to get out of the way.

You make some effort to compose yourself before what’s coming next. “Oh, and before we go—there’s something else I wanted you to know. Now that your issue’s been addressed... well, I also have something to confess.”

After those words, you pause for longer than you should. Which isn’t good.

“Go on?” Will holds your hand and gives you an encouraging, heartwarming nod.

Ugh, he’s so cute when he’s all soft and full of love. Despite being so big and tough. All at once a sugar baby muffin and a savage fucking sex god.

You clear your throat, collecting your slightly embarrassing thoughts. “So, when the whole... incident happened, in the moments just before I climbed onto your back, to pull you off of that poor man, I was just—watching you attack... and... well, at first I didn’t even know how to react, because... uhhh...”

Those blue eyes of his blink, and you can barely even think. Apparently you have a goddamn golden eyelash kink?

Will tries to urge you to continue; though it’s clear he’s quite sincere, he’s also more than just a little bit amused. He always loves to see you bumbling like a fool and acting totally uncool. He says it’s super cute. “Because what?”

You re-clear your throat, though it’s all clear already. Try to stay somewhat calm and steady. Keep your hormones in control. You are in public after all; people can see you even if they’re out of earshot. “I don’t know, it’s just—watching you do that was... I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was fucked up, and yes I knew it had to stop—but it was also... you know... super fucking hot?”

He blinks again, brows arching up a bit. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Y/N, I... I was out of my damn mind. Completely out of line. Like, deadly dangerous.”

“Oh, you think I didn’t notice?”

“No, I know you did...”

Fucking hell. You pull your hand from his and turn toward the shelves, grabbing a random box of cereal to occupy yourself. “Now you’re kink-shaming me. Never done that before, but now the truth comes out that I’m a sick and twisted whore—”

“What? Y/N, come on,” he groans, wrapping his arms around you from behind, the kind of big bear hug that always feels like home. “You know that isn’t how I meant it...”

“No, forget it. Just forget I ever said it.”

“Can’t really do that, to be honest. Babe, I’m into all your kinks, I promise. I just need a sec to process this.”

“Seriously—Will, this whole cereal aisle shouldn’t be about me. Even just mentioning it like I did was selfish. So forget it.”

“I’m not gonna just...”

“Hey, I have an idea,” you interrupt, eager to change the subject, as you now notice that you’d just happened to pick a box of Cap’n Crunch. With the creepy cartoon captain’s face emblazoned on the front. “What if you need a final outlet? Just to let off any steam that might be lingering, to make sure that you’ve really gotten over the whole cereal aisle incident?”

Will purrs as he leans closer into your shoulder. You stupidly assume he’s also looking at the cereal box you’re holding, but he isn’t. “Hmmm, you thinking what I’m thinking...?”

As it happens, you’re totally oblivious to what he just implied, since you’re still trying to recover from embarrassment. You step off to the side, pulling away from his embrace so that you’re standing face to face. And hold the box in front of you like it’s a martial arts board made for him to break. “Here, if you need something to punch... why don’t you let it out on Cap’n Crunch.”

He blinks, again, apparently a little stunned. You’re too oblivious to even notice that he has a hard on.

You gesture toward the crunchy cap’n. “Go on. Clock him one.”

Will shifts uncomfortably in an attempt to hide the stiffness of his cock. “Punch a cereal box? Babe, this is fucking ridiculous...”

“This creepy bastard haunted you throughout your childhood,” you remind him. “Come on, do it, Will. Show him who’s captain. You know it’ll feel good.”

He tosses a quick glance behind him to make sure that no one’s around to witness. “Can’t believe I’m gonna do this, but if you insist...”

Balling his right hand up into a fist, he fucking launches it at the cartoon son of a bitch. You know he didn’t go full force—the blow would’ve thrust you and Cap’n both across the room, of course—but he went hard enough to cause the cardboard box serious damage.

Will looks down at the damage he caused to his childhood nemesis, more pleased with it than he’d like to admit. “Well, shit.”

You flash him a triumphant grin, glad for the win. “Felt great, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, it did,” he laughs at himself with a shake of his head. “But the box is all busted.”

“Well, we are model citizens, so we’re obviously going to take responsibility and pay for this,” you tell him. “And William—don’t even think about bitching that Cap’n Crunch isn’t a worthwhile purchase. The catharsis that he just provided was worth it.”

Your fiancé is fully in agreement with that sentiment. “Sounds perfect.”

Moving toward your shopping cart, you pause before throwing the box in, stopping to salute the captain with one hand over your heart. “We thank you, Cap’n, for your service.”

Will lets out one of his loud, loving laughs and hugs you from the back again. “My God, you’re such a fucking dork...”

You shrug, melting into the hug. “Well, my dorky ass just singlehandedly took care of your entire healing process. So don’t knock it if it worked.”

“Oh, I wasn’t gonna knock it,” Will replies, suddenly spinning you around with your back up against the shelves, so you can see and feel the feral fire in his eyes. You practically just wet yourself. Even more so upon the words he utters next. “I was just thinking that I really wanna fuck it.”

Holy hell. This man is living breathing sex. Your words come out all jumbled up and shit. “What—how... you mean right now? In public?”

Will grinds his hips into your crotch so you can finally feel the stiffness of his dick. God, it’s so big. His every word and action never fail to make your pussy twitch. “Hmm, what is that I’m hearing... judgment? Are you kink-shaming me, bitch?”

Hot damn, you love how playfully sadistic your fiancé is. “No, I wouldn’t fucking dream of it. I love it,” you respond, succumbing to the force of his cock and the heat of your cunt. For good measure before you both give yourselves over to such guilty pleasure, to everything both of you want, you glance nervously up and down Aisle 6.

All is clear at the moment. And if that unexpectedly changes... you know there’s a risk, the constant threat of danger of onlooking strangers... well, fuck it. You and Will won’t let that stop you from indulging in some shameless sex in Publix.

***************

... Continued in Part 2!

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rebelwrites · 3 years

Text

No More Takeaways - Part Two

Clay Spenser x Reader

A/N okay so I am fully in love with how this turned out 😍

Join The Group Chat Here - If You Want Tagging Manually Let Me Know 🖤

Clay Spenser Masterlist

This Months Writing

“Babe come on it’s not even 7am yet” you groaned pulling the hoodie that definitely belonged to Clay around your body. “You just got back can’t we just go back home and go to bed”

“I promise I will go easy on you” Clay laughed draping his arm over your shoulder as you both flashed the guard your IDs “And you told me under no circumstances to let you order takeaway again because you wanted to get ready for Green Team”

“I know, I know” you sighed “I just have no will power, especially when you are on ops, I need my comfort food”

“I’m going to get some meals prepared in the freezer before I next get spun up” he laughed.

“Doesn’t mean I will cook them” you winked as you walked into the gym. “Come on then poster boy show me how a Seal trains, even though it’s probably going to kill me off and it will all be your fault” you giggled standing on your tip toes, kissing him lightly.

“Stop being dramatic and come warm up” Clay laughed, shaking his head “what’s your current time for a 3 mile run?”

“Between 20 and 22 minutes,” you said, dropping to the mat, stretching your leg out in front of you, your hand around your foot, pressing your chest against your thigh. “I just can’t seem to break the 20 minute barrier no matter how hard I try”

“Don’t worry, we will get there,” Clay smiled at you, helping you off the mat. “We’ve got plenty of time to get it down to under 18 minutes, I promise”

“What if I don’t Clay” you sighed as you both continued to stretch. “You know this is what I want to do and if it doesn’t happen then I have no clue what I want to do”

“Hey we shall have less of that talk babygirl” Clay said, placing his hand on the small of your back. “You will pass Green Team I know you will, and I know because you have me and the boys helping you, we have plenty of time before it all starts to get you where you need to be and before you know it you will be giving us a run for our money and will be running ops with us. Now come on let’s see what we can do the 3 mile in”

You had been running for the last two hours, your lungs felt like they were on fire and you were covered in sweat. Every time you worked out with Clay he always pushed you to your limits which you were grateful for as he knew how much you didn’t just want to pass Green Team but be one of the top candidates.

“Gimme a minute babe” you panted holding your hands behind your head trying to get as much air into your lungs as you could.

“Catch your breath and then we will see what your pull ups are like.” Clay smiled, you hated the fact that he wasn’t out of breath but you knew how much he lived in the gym so wasn’t surprised.

“Oh come on” you groaned, pulling your water bottle to your lips. “You are killing me here”

“Again with the dramatics” he winked slapping your bum as he walked by. “Now come on”

“We are going to get pancakes for breakfast after this” you groaned as you walked over to the pull up rack. “And you are buying”

“And when do I make you pay when I’m home” he smirked as you jumped grabbing onto the metal bar. “Now come on less talking more working”

“I prefer working out with Sonny” you huffed as you crossed your legs over and started doing pull ups.

“Just going to pretend I didn’t hear that baby girl” Clay laughed as he watched your form.

Another half an hour had passed and you were laid on the mat of the gym, hands over your face as your chest heaved.

“Would you look at this” Sonny roared as he walked into the gym standing over you, gently kicking you to make sure you were still alive. “blondielocks has killed her off”

“Clay, why would you do that?” Jase smirked as he walked over to you, crouching down moving your hands off your face. “You doing good kiddo?”

“Dying” you said between breaths.

“Yeah you may be dying but babygirl we broke the 20 minute mark for your 3 mile” Clay grinned “current speed 19 and and half minutes”

“Not good enough” you panted as Jase helped you to your feet.

“No negative talk or I will punch you” Sonny laughed pulling you into a hug before quickly pushing you away screwing his face up “eewww you are all sweaty”

“Blame blondie over there” you said before chugging your water “it’s not fair he hasn’t even broken a sweat”

“Let’s change that shall we” Jase smirked, grabbing the boxing pads. “Clay get your ass here, payback has arrived”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Clay’s face dropped as Jase never went easy on Clay, sitting on one of the benches, Ray came over to you placing both hands on your shoulder, squeezing them. Leaning back into him you smiled up at him.

“Shoulders holding out okay kid?” He asked. You never had any problems with your shoulders but knew he was talking from experience.

“Yeah they are, don't worry Ray” you nodded.

“Anyway we get back home from ops and you two are in the gym and looks like you have been for hours” Sonny said as he laid on the bench next to you.

“Yeah well someone got home, saw how many McDonald’s wrappers were in the bin and dragged my ass here” you laughed not taking your eyes off Clay and Jase box in the middle of the room. They hadn’t been going at it long but Jase was good and knew how to break Clay when training, his tight shirt pulling against his muscles with every punch, his chest rising and falling with every movement.

“That’s no cool young Jedi” Sonny shouted across the room “let your good lady eat what the fuck she wants whilst we are on ops”

“Thank you Sonny” you laughed fistbumping him. “I know it’s all good though he’s doing it so I can be the best and pass out of Green Team”

“Well then young cub” Sonny smirked sitting up, “ass up we going for round two”

“I fucking hate you all” you groaned.

“Yeah yeah tell us something we don’t know” Sonny laughed, tossing you another bottle of water. “We will have you rolling with us this time next year so we need to make sure you can keep up”

“I will beat your ass Sonny Quinn” you growled.

“Come on then Princess” he winked throwing you the boxing gloves “show me what you got”

“Just think of the pancakes, just think of the pancakes” you said to yourself over and over as you put the gloves on.

“Wait there’s pancakes after this?” Both Jase and Sonny said at the same time.

“Yeah and Clay is buying” you laughed.

“The fuck we still doing here then?” Jase said tossing the boxing pads on the floor. “Let’s roll”

You couldn’t help but laugh, Jase and Sonny loved pancakes as much as you did so they were first out of the gym.

“I know you push me to my limits and beyond but I’m grateful to have someone who will” you smiled at Clay, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him softly.

“I just want you to be the best baby” Clay whispered against your lips before deepening the kiss.

“Guys are we getting pancakes or what” Sonny shouted through the door. “Quit making out and let’s fucking go”

@chibsytelford @mrsmarvelous1995

@everyhowlmarksthedead @talicat713

#Clay Spenser #clay spenser x reader #clay spenser imagine #clay spenser oneshot #seal team #seal team fanfic #seal team oneshot #seal team imagine #seal team x reader

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illneverrecover · 4 years

Text

Take Me to Church (M) | JJK

➛pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

➛genre: gang!AU, tattooed!Jungkook, smut, fluff.

➛word count: 5,114

➛rating: M

➛warnings: sub/switch Jungkook, power play, praise, body worship, face sitting, oral sex (both giving and receiving), dirty talk, profanity, mentions of weeb JK, unprotected sex, riding, slight cock warming mentions, JK is a soft sweet boy.

➛summary: You can always tell when something is bothering your boyfriend, despite how hard he tries to hide it - and you have creative ways to get him to talk.

➛notes: MY FIRST EVER COMMISSION! As soon as I mentioned opening commissions, my cherub friends jumped at the chance and sent in several requests, @quinnkoo being the first. She asked for sweet soft switchy tattooed Jungkook smut with some power play, and I immediately thought back to the Gang!AU drabble I wrote her last year, and decided to play off of that. It’s not necessary to read that one first, but it’ll give some more back story if you’re curious. Thank you so much, Quinny. I hope you enjoy 🖤

➛song: Church - Fall Out Boy & My Time - BTS

“Ugh! I’m sick of all this rambling. When’s Kakashi going to come back?” you sigh, head plopping onto your boyfriend's shoulder. You waited a few breaths for his teasing reply - he couldn’t help but to drag you after you revealed your favorite character and your totally normal crush on him - but when it didn’t come, your brow furrowed.

He had insisted on the marathon of his favorite anime, eyes lighting with childlike glee as he explained the premise, but he had been noticeably quiet the last few episodes.

Something was up.

A wayward glance at Jungkook told you that your suspicions were right; his wide rich amber eyes were facing the screen, but the light behind them was absent. He was chewing his bottom lip, large front teeth poking out every few seconds, the hand not wrapped around you rubbing at one of the tattoos on his forearm. All the telltale signs that something was Bothering Jeon Jungkook™.

It didn’t take long for you to know what was on his mind. Reading him had been something you excelled at since day one, his body an open book that you have delved so deep inside you knew him better than you knew yourself.

On the outside, Jungkook was the embodiment of the word ‘tough’, which would be fitting of a member of his stature. He was part of the well renowned gang Bangtan, something you had known since the first meeting, and he looked the part - typically dressed in all black, clothes baggy and yet somehow still flattering his lean muscles, ink decorating his arms and neck. A single hoop hung from his nose, messy dark hair hanging low in his eyes - and with one look, it had been over for you.

But that was only one facet to Jungkook.

On the inside, he was marshmallow, soft and gooey and tooth rotting sweet. The type of man who believes in soulmates, who coos at kittens in store windows, who teared up while watching Frozen II (with an adamant cry of, “babe, Olaf is GONE” when you asked if he was alright). He is so thoughtful, always worrying about everyone else - his brothers, his family, you - before himself. A pure heart of gold wrapped in a deliciously decorated package.

Which is why you knew he was still thinking about what happened the day prior.

It had been such a silly thing, something that you had mentioned once but that he couldn’t get out of his mind, and he had wanted to surprise you. He could barely contain his own excitement when he picked you up, admiring your sundress while his legs bounced with untapped energy, insisting you closed your eyes until you had reached your destination.

The Tea Parlor had been perfect, everything you had imagined when you had casually dropped the idea of high tea to your boyfriend. The room was giant and open, windows taking up all of the walls, light spilling in to make the finery of the tea cups and serving trays glisten. You had squealed with excitement, rushing up to the hostess with a spring in your step, Jungkook giggling as he stepped up behind you.

She was friendly at first, polite smiles and kind eyes, until she heard the name the reservation was under. The minute Jungkook’s name spilled from his lips, the hostess went cold, stiff. Her disgust was blatant as she openly glared at him, gaze dragging up and down his form before doing the same to you. Before you could ask what was wrong, she snatched up the menus, giving a curt “Right this way, Mr. Jeon” before turning on her heel, leading you both to the back of the parlor.

A warm palm at the small of your back had you turning to look at Jungkook, seeking comfort in his gaze, but instead he was focused on the woman in front of you, eyes arctic and emotionless. He guided you to follow the hostess weaving between tables, and it was only once you were both seated that she addressed him again, voice pitched low. “You may have other people’s respect around here, but not mine. I know who you are and what you do. You should be ashamed of yourself.” Placing a menu down, she turned to face you, vitriol lacing her voice. “You should be, too. Out with a man like this, flaunting yourselves? It’s offensive.”

You weren’t sure how long you had sat in shocked silence when she made her exit, the menus laying unopened on the table. She had put you in the very back of the room, in a darkened corner, something you would normally disapprove of - but once seeing the look on Jungkook’s face, you were glad not to have an audience.

“What in the fuck was her problem?” you scoff, reaching a hand to lay on top of his own. “Jungkook, don’t listen to that shit. She has no idea what she’s talking about.”

He was still silent, his free arm clenching and unclenching slowly on top of the delicate lace tablecloth. He hadn’t looked up at you since the hostess had left, but you could see the unchecked rage sparking his eyes, the calculated way he was chewing his lip. His mind was racing, and you weren’t sure where it would land - but you wanted him to know you were here.

“We don’t have to stay, babe. We can go somewhere else for high tea,” you murmured, smoothing a thumb over the inked words on his knuckles. “Or, we can go shopping, have our own high tea with unlimited tiny sandwiches and desserts, where no judgmental bitches are allowed.”

He snorted then, the corner of his lip turning. “So what, then you won’t come to your own high tea?”

You had flicked his hand then with a laugh, moving to interlace his fingers with your own, and after a few whispered declarations of love, he had lifted you from your seat, stopping to twirl you once before guiding you to the front of the parlor to exit.

He only turned back once he was sure you were safe outside the door, mumbling a “gimme a minute” before he was darting inside, tall form stalking towards the hostess yet again. You weren’t sure what he had said to the woman, but you could see her face - the fear that pooled in her eyes - and you knew it was enough.

It had been two days since the incident, and Jungkook had been off since. Instead of any usual errands, he had holed you both up in the apartment, nesting and appeasing you with copious cheese snacks and shirtless cuddles on the couch. You had tried to gently ask if he wanted to talk more about it, prompt him in quiet moments and in the protection of your arms, but he always skirted around it, insisting everything was fine, instead pulling you in for a kiss and a reminder that he loves you.

It made your heart ache, to see the man that you love so much, the twin flame to your soul feel like he couldn’t open up, couldn’t untangle the threads in his mind. He was always worrying about you, taking extra precautions in his work and personal life to ensure your safety, and you found yourself wishing desperately that he would let you take care of him for once.

He had never been good at keeping his emotions hidden.

You turn your eyes to the screen once more, catching the end of the episode, the screen cutting to black just as Naruto yells “I’ll never let my comrades die!”, which was a pretty good sign that you had been spacing out in thought for longer than you meant to. As the ending credits played, you nudged Jungkook with your shoulder, turning to face him.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Well, it’s just - I gave you the perfect opener to roast me about my love for Kakashi and you didn’t take the bait,” swinging your legs into his lap, you move your arms to drape loosely around his neck. “Didn’t even blink. Doesn’t sound like the Jungkook I know.”

He hums then, palming your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Why?”

Internally, you sighed. You knew this wasn’t the case, but it also seemed that every attempt to discuss things had been thwarted by the beautiful man one way or another. You needed him to feel ready to open up, to feel vulnerable - and as you stared at the strong, toned arm now touching you, an idea clicked into place.

He grunts an affirmation, turning to face you, inked hands smoothing a path up your legs. There’s a smirk on his face, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re right, I was distracted. I was thinking-”

Pressing a finger to his lips, you shush him. “First of all, I’m always right. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

Jutting his chin, he nips at the digit, trapping it between the edges of his teeth. “Sounds fake.”

“Second of all..” you continue, voice husky with a new bead of lust pooling low in your gut. You drag your finger over the plush flesh of his lip before sliding lower, tapping his chin once before you grip his jaw tightly. The responding hiss he gives makes you smirk deviously. “No more thinking. I think it’s time for more distractions.”

Jungkook whines lowly as you move to straddle his lap, your palm still clutching his mouth to pull him closer to you. Your free hand smooths the hair out of his face, nails raking lightly against his scalp.

“Is that okay?” your lips ghost against his own, close enough that he could capture them into a kiss if he wanted, but instead he nods his head, eyes heavy with longing.

Threading your fingers around his midnight locks, you give one sharp tug, exposing his intricately tattooed throat as he keens once more. Releasing his jaw, you drop your head, mouth puckered and planting a kiss on his pulse point. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Jungkook’s chest is heaving, pulse galloping wildly beneath your palm. He hitches a breath, swallowing thickly. “Fuck, baby. Yes, yes that’s okay,” he rasps, words needy and rushed.

Large palms cup your ass, pulling you closer until you are flush against him, and you moan against his neck as he kneads the flesh, his hips raising off the couch. His tongue finds the juncture between your neck and shoulder, and your eyes roll back as he nibbles and licks at the tender skin.

Giving in for a moment, you enjoy the feeling of Jungkook’s mouth on your heated body, the warmth of his lips and tongue igniting a fever in your bones, his hands still pulling at the globes of your ass until you were dragging your core over his clothed cock.

It was a deep growl from his chest that brought you back, lifting your head away from his dangerous mouth. This was supposed to be about him relaxing, but if you continued down this path, you knew you’d be lost under his spell.

With great effort, you step off of his lap, knees wobbly as you untangle yourself from Jungkook’s form, though the sight before you makes you want to collapse. Jungkook looks beyond fucked out, eyes dark and shining with desire, his lips ruddy and shining with overuse. He’s panting, his black t-shirt seemingly straining against heaving muscles, the imprint of his cock evident and thick even through his sweatpants.

God, you wanted to ruin him.

“Lay down for me,” you husk, throat painfully dry. You watch as he does what he’s told, laying until his whole body is now on the couch, his umber gaze never leaving yours.

“Good boy.”

He rolls his eyes then, but his cheeks flush, the praise affecting him despite his embarrassment. “Don’t make fun of me, babe. I’m a very powerful man.”

Chuckling, you move to slide off your sweatpants, stepping out of them and your panties once they hit the floor. A quick flick of your wrist has your top discarded across the room - and leaves you bare before Jungkook.

“I know you are. But I also know you like it when I take care of you, hmm?” you move closer, hovering just by the edge of where he’s laying, planning your next step.

Jungkook can’t take his gaze off of you, doe eyes obsidian and devouring you whole, darting between your face and splendidly naked form. His hand grips his bulge , palming himself as he hisses in response.

Climbing over his lap once more, you pause before settling, instead gripping the edges of his shirt to pull over his head, tossing it errantly. Drinking him in, you trace the lengths of his abdomen, grazing over his nipples before following the inked lines down his arms, hands intertwining. Dropping your hips, you roll them once against his hardened cock, moaning at the friction before you move his arms to rest above his head.

“Leave these here,” you order, but there’s no bite, only softness as you trace back the lines of his palms, the underside of his biceps. He was peering down, wanting to watch your every move, regarding you with admiration as you leaned forward, pressing a wet kiss to his collarbone.

You take your time, dragging your lips back and forth along the planes of his toned chest, nipping and suckling reddened blemishes on his skin, relishing in the sounds he was making for you - just for you. A quick glance told you that he’s behaving, arms still perched above his head and draped onto the side of the couch, though twitching when you would reach a sensitive spot with your mouth. His eyes are closed, bottom lip tucked beneath his teeth, and when you lap at the hollow of his throat, his brow furrows in strain, as if it took every effort to not reach down and pull you closer to him.

Seeing him blissed out beneath you, relinquishing his control despite his body screaming at him not to has heat flooding your veins, your cunt clenching in desire. If there was one thing that turned you on more than Jungkook existing, it was pleasing him until he forgot his own name.

With a groan, you lift your lips to press against his own, gasping when his tongue immediately slides into your mouth, tangling with yours. Jungkook always kisses with such passion, hunger edging in every suckle and nibble of your pout, lips moving in tandem. For a moment, you allow yourself to drown in it, relishing the taste of him, kissing him until you’re forced to pull away for air.

Pressing your forehead to his, you pause, allowing you both time to breathe, your hand rising to cup the silk line of his jaw. His eyes look pained, brows pulled taunt as he looks up at you, and you can feel the sinew muscle beneath your palm twitch.

Nuzzling against his nose once, twice, you press a chaste kiss against his lips once more. “Jungkook,” you breathe, searching his gaze. “It’s okay. I’m with you, I got you,”

He swallows thickly, nodding. “I know, babe, I know you do.” He leans forward, chasing your mouth, tugging your bottom lip lightly between his teeth before dropping. “I just, I hate that she said that to you, that you get treated differently because of me, because of who I am-”

Hushing him with a kiss is much more effective than with your words, and you continue to lick into his mouth until he's groaning beneath you once more, your name a whispered mantra on his lips.

“I don’t care what she thinks, what anyone thinks. I know you, Jungkook, and I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So much.”

It was only once the yearning and eagerness came back to light his eyes that you continue, sitting up on all fours so you could crawl upwards. Hips dangling precariously above his face, you could see a quirk of his eyebrow before he looked up at you once more, gaze dripping in wonder.

“You gonna sit on my face, hmm? Let me taste you?” he rasps, hands moving from their invisible restraints to slide up the outside of your thighs. You let him explore for a brief moment, savoring the sensation of calluses dragging against your soft skin, before you grab his wrists, pinning them back above him.

“Only if you’re a good boy for me.”

A giggle escapes you at his expression, but before he could protest you lower yourself to his mouth, letting out a sigh when puckered lips immediately latch onto your throbbing clit. He drags his tongue against it before tugging it between plush lips, suckling harshly, your eyes rolling back as you grip the couch to steady yourself.

“Fuck, Jungkook,”

Grinning against your core, he alternates his attack, lapping your wetness, licking the length of your vulva before focusing again at the hardened bud at your apex. Just when your thighs start to tense, your high within reach, he moves back to tonguing your slickened core slowly, moaning as he tastes you like a man starved.

Reaching down, you grab a fistful of his hair, pulling him closer to your aching center, briefly regretting your decision to not let him touch you - but too stubborn to lift the request. “You’re so good, baby.” you mewl, hips rutting against him. “So good to me, I’m so close, please don’t stop.”

Jungkook’s tongue lashes against your cunt with a renewed fervor, your praise spurring him on with the only goal being to satisfy you. As the band in your stomach tightens, your thighs start trembling, making him groan against you before focusing on your clit, the vibrations of his mouth proving to be too much alongside the onslaught of his suckled kisses.

With a cry of his name you tumble over the edge, releasing the pent up orgasm with a flood of liquid arousal, Jungkook lapping up every drop as you give it to him. He’s whispering praise all the while, telling you how good you did for him, how delicious you taste - taking care of you even as he guides you through the crest. Feeling weak as you come down, you shudder a breath, hand reaching to stabilize you on the couch edge long enough to move away from that dangerous mouth of his.

“God, that was so hot, Y/N, you’re so good to me,” his voice is rough, gravelly with misuse. Unable to stop himself, his arms come to cradle your shivering form to his chest, laying you completely on top of him.

You give in, allowing yourself time to catch your breath and regain stability in your wobbling bones. His hand smooths against your hair, cooing softly at you. When you feel firmly returned to earth, Jungkook shifts, moving as if he wanted to pin you beneath him.

“Are you going to be good for me now?” he smirks, eyebrow raised in cocky defiance, the kind only earned from having the skills to back it up.

Returning the smile, you shake your head, pushing his chest back down to the couch. “Absolutely not, who said I was done with you?”

A retort dies on his lips at the sight of you slinking down his legs, hands pulling his sweatpants on your descent, his cock red and dripping in precum as it slaps taunt against his abdomen. Sucking a digit into your mouth, you pull it out with a lewd pop to trace lightly up and down his length, stopping to swirl it around the leaking head.

The thick cords of muscle in his tattooed clad thighs tense at the light touch, and his hips rise to chase the contact. “Baby, you’re going to kill me, please,” he whines, and it’s sweet music to your ears.

“Hmm, want me to touch you? To taste you?” you murmur, dropping your head to kiss lightly up his shaft - just enough pressure to let him know you were there, but not enough for any sort of relief.

“God, I want you so fucking bad,” he mumbles frantically, words tying around his tongue thickened with lust. “Please, baby. I’d do anything. You want me to beg? I’ll get on my knees,”

He cuts off with a moan when you slip the tip into the molten heat of your mouth, worshiping the sensitive flesh with your tongue, sucking gently. He’s bucking now, desperate to feel more, but you pull back enough to not allow his cock to sink further into your mouth, content to lap at the reddened head until he was dripping.

Savoring the hardened lines of his body and the lecherous way he was looking at you for a moment longer, you finally acquiesce, dragging your mouth down his shaft until you could nuzzle the hairs at his pelvis. The growl that rumbled through his chest was your reward, his hands now sliding through your hair to tug at your scalp.

“Fuck, so good,” he babbles, gulping for air. “Feels so good, you’re so good to me.”

Pacing yourself, you glide up and down, tongue swirling around velvet steel as you take him fully, one hand cupping around his base. While his length was impressive, it was the girth that took you time to adjust to, and once you were used to the heaviness on your tongue you increase your speed, taking him as far back into your throat as possible before swallowing around him.

Jungkook cries out, your name tumbling from his lips as his hands tighten in your hair. He thrusts shallowly up into your mouth once, twice, before he hisses, pulling you off of him with a grunt.

“I-I can’t, you can’t keep doing that,” he stutters, licking the salt off his lips. “If you do, I’m going to come.”

Grinning, you slide your fist that had been holding him steady up his shaft, squeezing lightly. “What if that’s what I want? What if I want you to make a mess for me?”

The cock in your hand pulses at your words, and pride swells in your chest, a wicked light brimming in your eyes. “Jungkook?” your free hand moves to cradle the weight of his balls, massaging gently. “Would you let me?”

He whines, head slamming back into the pillows as he gives in to your tease. “Did I mention that you’re going to be the death of me? Because if not, I would like to make sure that statement is on record.”

“Well, that’s not an answer.”

Bucking his hips, his hands slide from your hair to rest on top of your own. “Yes,Y/N. I’d let you do whatever you want to me. I’d let you wreck me thoroughly and I’d thank you for it when it was over,” he pants, before pulling your grip off his throbbing arousal.

Pouting, you watch with narrowed eyes as he sits up, his inked palm coming to caress your cheek. “But right now,” he timbers, voice low, “I want nothing more than to feel you, bury myself inside you. To have your tight pussy squeezing around me as I come. ”

Tracing the lines of your lips, he leans to ghost his mouth against yours, breath intertwining. “Will you let me?” he whispers, imitating your words, nosing down to your pulse point, your throat. A surge of desire had your thighs pressing together, your nipples pebbling as he scorches your neck with the fire of his tongue.

Shoving him down, you straddle him once more, wasting no time to reach behind you to firmly grasp his cock and sheath it into your awaiting heat. You both moan at the plunge, his thickness stretching you deliciously until the pressure ebbed into pleasure.

Once you are fully seated, you lean over him, watching his face intently as you roll your hips gracefully, slowly. Jungkook angles up far enough to pull a nipple into his mouth, encircling it with tongue until you were groaning for him. Inked arms snaked down to grasp at the meat of your ass, dragging you back and forth, your engorged bundle of nerves grinding deliciously against his pelvis. You couldn’t help but to keen loudly, gasps for air becoming more desperate as your unhurried pace tortures you both into delirium.

It’s then he speaks, tone husky as he admires you. “You are so perfect, so beautiful, baby,” he presses swollen lips into your neck, your collarbone, your breast. “Perfect for me.”

His hands slide up to grasp your hips, fingers pressing so deep you were sure they’d leave small bruises in his wake. Moving to plant his feet firmly against the couch, he starts to thrust up into you, his assault relentless as his tight grip pins you in place. Crying out, you throw your head back, eyes closing against the euphoria of him stroking every sensitive spot inside of you on each plunge.

“So good, taking me so good,” he croaks, voice thick with lust. “God, look at you. Falling apart for me.”

You clench then, tightening around his cock and making him choke on a moan. “I can make you fall apart for me t-too,” you breathe, placing your hands on his broad chest to help you meet each snap of his pelvis.

“I know you can, baby. You can make me do anything,” his eyes meet yours then, intense and overflowing with admiration. “I worship you, f-fuck. Love you, I love you so much.”

You try to hold eye contact, but his pace is relentless, his cock filling you to the brim, ravaging you with stamina only he could possess. “I love you too, Jungkook,” moaning, you start to meet each thrust, chasing your high.

He can tell you’re close, tell by the way your eyes are squeezed tight, your cheeks blooming pink, mouth agape in a silent scream. He sits up, settling you onto his lap so he could be face to face with you. “Open your eyes, I want to see you,” he hisses, hands still guiding you to bounce on his length. “I wanna watch you come for me, wanna come with you.”

Prying open your heavy lids, you meet the matchbook fire in his gaze, feeling yourself tighten around him at the carnal lust he assaults you with. You were close, so close, and when he whines out another melody of your name, you feel the thinned band finally snap, throwing you into your second orgasm.

Jungkook fucks you through it, composure lost when you clench around him like a vice, and he reaches his peak as you’re coming down, groaning as he spills himself inside of you. It takes his hips a moment to catch up, stuttering a few final snaps before resting, and then he’s tugging you down to him, pressing your form tightly to his own.

Heavy panting filled the room, and you let the rhythmic beating of his heart bring you back to earth, lull you until your eyes were heavy with fatigue. Jungkook was still inside you, and you could feel him softening though he made no indication of moving. An inked hand rose to sink into your hair, scratching your scalp soothingly.

“You’re the best at distractions,”

“I know.”

Licking his dry lips, he whistles lowly. “Spend the night with me?”

You chuckle, sliding your palm to rest on his chest. “I live here, you dummy.” Humming, you trace the patterns of the designs etched into his skin serenely . “We should still talk about it, though. What’s bothering you.”

He stiffens beneath you, letting loose a shaky breath. Silence envelopes you both, so you continue. “You know I have no regrets about the choices I made, about choosing you. I can protect myself. And I’ll always defend you, Jungkook.”

“I know,” he starts, tone shifting. “I always knew my lifestyle would bring some challenges, and I was ready to face them. But when it affects the people I love - when it affects you - I just,” he pauses, chewing on his lip as he searches for the words. “I just hate it. I know you don’t need me to, but it makes me want to shield you from the world. Lock you away with me, safe from everything. Just the two of us.”

Your heart squeezes tightly at his words, at the sincerity in his voice. You don’t like that he’s worried over you, but you also understand that this is just him, his heart. He will always want to shelter those he loves from pain, and it’s one of the million reasons you trusted him with your life - loved him so deeply.

“We’ve done a pretty good job at that the last few days, I think,” you smirk, resting your chin on his chest to meet his eyes. “We can get through anything as long as we’re together, you know?”

Jungkook grins then, one of his wide ones that crinkles his nose and shows off his teeth, and the rush of love that hits your veins makes you dizzy.

“I know, baby.”

You continue to talk for a few more moments, content to be wrapped up in his embrace, despite the fact that you were both nude and in great need of a shower. When you finally move to stand, stretching your limbs over your head, another thought crosses your mind.

“Wait, I need to know - what did you tell the hostess that day? At the tea parlor?”

Jungkook rises to full height next to you, hair sweaty and flopping into his eyes. He tilts his head, expression sliding into one more serious. “I told her that I was glad she knew who I was, because then she knew what would happen if she ever so much as looked at you the wrong way again…” he trailed off, stepping closer to give you a glimpse of his cold glare, a small taste of the power he possessed.

“And that is I would leave her a terrible review on Yelp. I’m talking abysmal, zero stars, and a detailed essay on just how unprofessional she was. Tell all my friends to do the same. She’d be lucky to have a job by the end of the week when I was through.”

You stare at him wide eyed for a beat before laughter overtakes you, arms rising to slide around his neck, pulling him closer. He was trying - and failing - to keep the serious look on his face, eyes glittered with mischief, chuckles rumbling low in his chest. Pecking the side of his upturned pout, you sigh dreamily.

“My hero.”

2K notes · View notes

gureishi · 3 years

Note

12 with Seven and a female MC, NSFW please ^^

Thank you for the wonderful request! And oh boy do I apologize if this wasn’t what you wanted. O_O My imagination was positively THRILLED by this prompt and this...is where it went.

I sincerely hope you DO enjoy this, because god knows I enjoyed writing about it. But seriously if you want a...tamer...NSFW Saeyoung story for this prompt, tell me and I’ll write that one too?? For real??

twelve: born to be together

Saeyoung X Reader; E (M/F sex, roleplaying, light dom/sub, assplay), words: 2941

If it wasn’t already abundantly clear (lol): smut warning, proceed with caution~ <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

You stand in the walk-in closet, in a forest of brightly-colored and bedazzled fabrics. They’re not organized by any discernible method, but they’re all hung neatly, some in plastic dry-cleaning bags and others draped multiple times over their hangers so they don’t touch the floor. You run a hand down the line of costumes, feeling lace and fur and taffeta. There are some here that are familiar: a maid outfit you’ve seen numerous times and a fuzzy full-body cat suit you find particularly charming. There are others that you’re sure you’ve never seen before.

“Saeyoung?” you call, and he hums in response: he’s sprawled across the bed, playing a game on his phone. “Why haven’t I ever seen you wear most of these?”

He laughs. “There are literally hundreds of outfits in there, babe. You’ve lived here for what, three months? When was I gonna wear them all? You want me to do a fashion show for you?”

You perk up, lifting a sequined tutu to the light so you can see it shimmer. “Yes, please!”

“Just say the word, baaaby,” he sings, drawing out the syllables. He’s teasing, but you’re serious: there is not one thing in this huge, chaotic closet that wouldn’t suit him. You comb through the racks, pushing past a denim mini dress, a full-on space suit, and what looks like a…sexy penguin costume? Okay, maybe not that one.

Toward the back of the closet, in a corner (you’ve got to help him organize all this stuff, you think), there’s a floor-length zip-up bag garment bag. You squish it—there’s something very fluffy in there.

“Hey, what’s in the fancy bag?” you call over your shoulder. You hear a soft flop as he tosses his game aside and the ruffling of the covers as he leaps off the bed. He appears behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Ohhh, this one?” He sounds pleased; he nuzzles the back of your neck with his nose and you squirm, ticklish. “Unzip it and see,” he offers.

You do, and your mouth falls open: in the bag is what you can only describe as a literal princess gown. It’s ballet slipper pink, with layers and layers of chiffon trailing all the way to the ground. The bodice is fitted and embellished with thousands of tiny gemstones.

“What mission was this for?” you gasp, fingering the gauzy, frothy top layer of the skirt.

“Not a mission,” he murmurs into your neck. “Just wanted it.”

Saeyoung skims his hands down your sides, sliding them into both of the front pockets of your jeans.

“I don’t want to know what this cost, do I?” you ask. He cackles.

“You probably don’t.”

Hands in your pockets, he pulls you flush against his body. Maybe it’s the luxurious feeling of the skirt on your fingertips and maybe it’s the insistent way he’s pressing against you, but you have an idea—a revelation.

“I want you to wear it for me,” you say. You slip out of his grasp, spinning to face him—you watch his eyes widen and his cheeks flush as he takes in your serious expression.

“Ohhhh?” he lilts, cocking his head to the side. “So when you say you want me to wear it, you mean…?” He’s teasing you, his hands on your skin again, dancing over your hips, up your sides.

“I mean exactly what you think I mean,” you tell him, and you reach out and stroke his cheek with your fingertips, delighted to feel that, in spite of his posturing, his skin is so warm—he’s flustered, and he melts a little under your intense gaze, his eyes roaming over your body.

He pauses, and for a split second, in spite of his apparent eagerness, you think he might say no. But then he springs into action, grabbing the hanger off the rack, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, and sprinting out of the closet.

“Gimme twenty minutes—no, ten!” he calls to you, already disappearing around the corner, through the bedroom, into the en suite bathroom. You grin, patting your own flushed cheeks with both hands. This, you think, will be worth waiting for.

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

In spite of his promises, it’s actually closer to thirty minutes before he emerges again. You lay on your stomach on the unmade bed, half-heartedly scrolling on your phone. The anticipation coils in your stomach. In spite of yourself, you keep glancing up at the closed bathroom door—picturing him there, half-dressed, penciling in his eyebrows with those nimble fingers of his. Knowing that he’s doing this for you—it makes you clench your thighs together, squirming against the bunched-up comforter. Come on, you think.

And just then, as if he’s heard your silent plea, he pushes the door open a crack—just enough for you to catch the tiniest glimpse of an ankle peeking out under perfectly-arranged layers of pink gauze.

“Baby,” he calls, his voice soft, and you sit up straight. “Are you ready for me?”

You’ve never been readier for anything.

“I’m waiting,” you tell him.

So he flings open the bathroom door, and for a moment even you—you, the one who looks at him all day and sleeps beside him every night—are floored. There is a stunningly, jaw-droopingly beautiful woman in your bedroom, long red hair trailing effortlessly over her bare shoulders, thin waist accented delightfully by the tight bodice, toned legs just barely visible through the layers and layers of translucent fabric. Her features are soft, her golden eyes gaze just slightly downward, and one hand rests on her chest, thin fingers hovering just above the dress’s glittering neckline.

“Hi,” Saeyoung murmurs coyly. You feel like your head is going to explode.

“Come here, princess,” you call, and it takes all your willpower to keep your voice level. He obliges you, stepping delicately over the rug, holding up his billowing skirt with one dainty hand. He perches on the edge of the bed, flips a lock of hair over his shoulder. The wig matches his natural hair color and cascades voluminously down his back. He’s perfectly in character: he keeps his eyes lowered and his cheeks are flushed a dusty pink.

“Like this?” he asks, and he leans back the tiniest bit, letting the light catch his semi-translucent skirt, highlighting the silhouette of his thighs through the glistening fabric.

“Just like that,” you whisper. It’s not the first time you’ve taken the lead, but it’s not the norm, either—being in charge feels frightening and exhilarating. “May I touch you, princess?”

He nods, and the flush on the tips of his ears is real, not makeup—and even through the countless layers of fabric that make up his skirt, it’s evident that he’s already starting to get excited.

You sit up on your knees behind him and run a hand over his bare shoulders, part the soft hair that covers his back, wrap them around the back of his neck. He shudders.

“Are you going to be good for me, baby?” you whisper in his ear, and you feel the way his shoulders quiver eagerly. You grip his neck just a little tighter.

“I’ll be good,” he murmurs sweetly, and it’s already almost too much for you. You squeeze your legs together, impatient to touch him, eager to see his perfect demeanor shattered.

One hand still on his neck, you snake your other arm around his waist, which is dramatically cinched by the tight bodice. You stroke up his torso, curious, and feel the curve of what are quiet obviously breasts straining against the ruched fabric, peeking out over the tauntingly low neckline.

“I like these,” you whisper, and he arches his back, leaning into your touch. He laughs a soft, bubbling laugh—and it’s an act, a character, but there is some of Saeyoung’s delightful giggle in it too. Your hand roams across his chest and you slip one finger into the impeccable cleavage he’s created (you’ll have to ask him how, later).

Then you slip your other hand from his throat and explore lower, lower, across his hip, his thigh. You dip your head and take the soft skin of his shoulder between your teeth, biting hard enough to leave a small, half-moon-shaped mark. He whimpers, and you move your hand down his thigh, pointedly avoiding the erection that you can now see very clearly through the layers of chiffon. You taunt him, nipping his neck again, sliding the skirt up so you can drag your fingernails across his leg. He’s trying so hard to stay still, but his hips give him away, rocking forward the tiniest bit, seeking relief against the silky fabric.

“Are you going to let me fuck you, princess?” you hiss against his skin—and it’s a tease, but it’s a genuine question, too.

A moan tears from his throat, quiet yet desperate. He keeps his hands neatly folded in his lap but his eyes flutter shut and his hips wriggle as you pinch the skin of his thigh.

“P-please,” he whines, and he leans his head back, eyelids fluttering shut. “Please, I want you to…”

“Don’t move,” you tell him, and he obeys, sits perfectly still on the edge of the bed, his skirt splayed out artfully around him. He makes a perfect picture, you think—head reclined, yearning evident in every tense muscle of his body.

You go to the bedside cabinet and pull out the things you need: the little pink bottle of lube and a toy—a thin, smooth dildo, light-colored and fairly unobtrusive. You slip it out of its harness, deciding to use it in your hand today—and you return to him, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. He’s opened his eyes and he’s taking you in, standing over him, the toy in your hand—his beautiful eyes are huge and desperate.

“On your hands and knees, honey,” you purr, and he complies eagerly, climbing gracefully onto the bed and arching his back for you. “Don’t tease me,” you say, and he trembles. The skirt billows out around him and you set down the toy so you can slip a hand under his dress, over his silky-smooth thighs (did he shave his legs?). You’re delighted to find that he’s not wearing anything under the gown.

You run your hand up his thigh; he’s sticking his ass in the air, practically begging for you, and you slap it, face breaking into a smile as he whimpers.

“How bad do you want me right now, beautiful?” you ask him, and he moans softly, his legs shaking.

“I need you,” he hisses, and he sounds a little less like a princess and a little more like Saeyoung. You suck your index finger, wetting it, and then you slip it up and under his skirt and inside him. He reacts immediately, thighs shaking as he struggles to hold himself up, gasping for air. You slide your finger a little bit deeper inside him and you can’t help but grind your hips against the edge of the bed as you do, hopelessly turned on by the noises he’s making. He adjusts, widening his hips for you, and you curl your finger inside him, gently increasing the pressure and watching him come apart before your eyes.

“I’m r-ready,” he pants, “please,” and you pull your finger out of him, warming the toy with both hands as you liberally smear it with lube.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” you tell him, and you can barely keep your voice from shaking. “I don’t want you to make a sound till I say so, princess.”

He quivers in anticipation but doesn’t say a word. Almost without thinking, you unbutton and unzip your jeans, slip one hand down, down, over your underwear. The need you feel is overwhelming.

With one finger pressed against your clit, over your underwear, you take the dildo in your other hand and slide it over his ass, down, and finally inside him. His legs shake uncontrollably and for a moment you think he’ll fall—but he doesn’t, he stays on his hands and knees, back bent for you, and though his pleasure is evident in the way he throws his head back, hair falling everywhere, he’s quiet—just like you asked him to be.

You gasp, impossibly aroused by the sight of him like this, the delicate skirt falling every which way. You wish you could see his face, the ruined look in his eyes, but you settle for the sight of his ass and thighs shaking, framed seductively by layers of pink gauze. You slide the dildo deeper inside him and he twitches, gasping. At the same time, you move your finger over your swollen clit, moaning softly as you give yourself the stimulation you’ve been craving.

He’s so good, so obedient, so quiet, trembling as you fuck him with the toy and fuck yourself with your finger. He pushes back against you and his arms give out; he bends forward, face pressed into the bed. Your own legs are shaking like they don’t want to hold you up anymore but both your hands are occupied, so you lean harder against the bed, hissing as you move your finger in tight circles against yourself and angle the toy upward, questing for his p spot.

You’re going to come, you think—you’re going to come so fast, from your own hand, as you watch your boyfriend clad in this extravagant gown falling to pieces before you.

“I want you to come with me,” you hiss, moving your finger quicker and more frantically against yourself, “and I want to hear you.”

He moans immediately as if he’s been fighting to hold it back all this time, rocking his hips back into the toy. You can tell he’s close and you are too, driven half-mad by the sight of him. You rub your faster, faster, and you slide the toy in and up, penetrating him deeper. He groans, and there is still some of the pretty, modest princess in his voice, because god this boy knows how to stay in character, but the unbidden desperation is there too. He’s on the edge, you can tell, and you feel the telltale sensation of your toes curling, your thighs clenching…

And you throw your head back, continuing the pressure with your finger as the pleasure crests, thrusting into him more roughly, begging him to come with you…

And he does come, from the toy alone, his cock untouched—yelping as he rocks forward, his face buried deep in the pile of blankets on the bed and his whole body shaking…

And you feel tears in your eyes as you let yourself be taken over by the sensations, overwhelmed by the pleasure gripping you…

And he’s moaning, high-pitched and beautiful, crying for you to keep going…

And stars burst beneath your eyelids and you can’t see, thrusting into him one more time, knowing you’re hitting just the right spot as he sobs out your name.

And it slows, slows, and he’s panting, and you catch your breath and slip your hand out of your pants, pulling out of him with a trembling hand. He’s still shaking too, a quivering, beautiful mess gauze and tulle.

“You okay, babe?” you gasp, crawling up onto the bed beside him. He turns his head and you catch your first glimpse of his face—deliciously wrecked, mascara under his eyes and bright pink spots on his cheeks.

“I…I…wow,” he manages, finally sitting back on his heels. He’s in disarray, his hair in his eyes, his skirt sticking to his legs. “That was new,” he says quietly, his eyes shining as he tucks the long, fake hair behind his ears. “I never came like that before, just from…”

“I know.”

“The dress…” He laughs, pulling apart the unkempt layers of gaze.

“I guarantee I can figure it out,” you say, giggling, collapsing onto the pile of pillows. “I’ll just google ‘how to get cum out of ball gown.’”

“Oh god.” He grimaces, twisting and falling onto his back beside you. The skirt still manages to billow out splendidly around his legs. “Maybe…don’t google that.”

You turn and kiss him on the lips, sighing contentedly as he responds with enthusiasm, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Thanks for doing that for me,” you say. “That was…a fantasy I didn’t know I had, till today."

He grins against your lips.

“Oh, I knew I had that fantasy,” he says, skating his hand up your leg, around your waist. “But you…you…”

“Hmmmm?” You curl into him, finding that the fake breasts make a surprisingly comfortable pillow.

“I never thought I’d be loved the way you love me,” he says, kissing your cheek, your eyebrow, your forehead. “I didn’t think a person like you existed.”

“Course I do,” you tell him, flipping the skirt over his hip so you can rest your hand against his thigh. His skin really is amazingly soft. “We were always going to find each other.”

“Next time,” he says, melting into your touch, kissing your earlobe. “Dress up as a sexy prince for me, babe?”

You tuck his wig behind his ear and kiss his beautiful, smudged, wrecked, perfect face. “Anything for you, princess.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

@currentlyprocrastinating @thesirenwashere @ultrasupernini @cro0kedme @otomefoxystar @dawn-skies06 @nad-zeta @hunterelys

#mystic messenger #mysticmessenger #saeyoung choi #saeyoung x reader #707 #707 x reader #request #gureishi writes requests #decadentathleteoperatorpainter #spicy spaceship

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miss-tc-nova · 4 years

Text

Mine Now - Noctis Lucis Caelum x Reader

It’s not exactly fluff and it’s not the Smarmy Fluffcoat I’ve been dying to work on, but I had to finish it. Even if it’s not perfect, I had some fun. Also, a couple bonus endings because I could.

~~~~~

I jump out of the car, eager to stretch my legs after the seemingly endless car ride. “Thank the gods!” I groan while stretching.

“What are you complaining about?” Gladio teases. “You didn’t drive.”

I put my hands on my hips and follow him towards the trunk. “Look, sitting in the back with two men that barely understand personal space gets cramped.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining that time you used me as a pillow all the way to Cauthess.”

“What can I say? Gotta adapt; when the men can’t do personal space, neither will I.” I grab a bag, sling it over my shoulder, and grab a couple chairs.

Prompto slaps my shoulder. “Wouldn’t it be more comfortable to sleep on Noctis? He’s got less muscle.”

“Hey!” The offended man glares at the chocobo blonde.

I giggle. “Noctis, let’s be honest; you’ve got muscle, but look at Gladio. His arm is as big around as my head. You definitely would’ve made a better pillow.” That doesn’t make him feel any better. “Plus, you won’t flex every five minutes to turn a damn page.”

“Can’t be all muscle,” Gladio speaks up.

Ignis butts in. “Well nobody is napping now. Let’s get moving. It’s going to take some time to get to the haven from here.”

He was right; it took us three hours to get to the haven and the sun was long gone by the time we got there. Once camp is put together and we’re all set for the night, it’s time to relax, maybe play some King’s Knight. I pat my pockets. “Hey, anyone seen my phone.”

“You mean this?” Noctis asks from his chair, displaying said phone above his head, clearly playing with my settings.

“What are you doing?!”

Noctis stands and smirks triumphantly. “You left it in the car. You’re lucky I swiped it before we left.”

“Thanks for grabbing it, but why are you playing with my settings?”

I reach for my cell but Noctis pulls it out of range. “You really should pay more attention.”

“Says the man who slept through a bandersnatch attack,” I huff. “Now can I have my phone back?”

A mischievous grin slips over his lips. “You can have it back if you can take it from me.”

“So now we have a bully for a king?” I jump but he clearly expects to make a game out of this. “Noctis! Give me my phone!”

He chuckles, easily holding said device above my head. “Come on. You can reach a griffin mid-flight; you can reach your phone.”

“You want me to use my weapons?” I growl. “I will take you out by the shins! Don’t test me!”

“Oh really? Show me what you got?” Reaching down, I grab his leg and jerk. Noctis effectively hits the ground. “Ow!”

“I warned you. Now gimme my phone!”

The man sits up, rubbing the back of his head. “I wanna say that was a cheap move but I asked for it…”

I hold my hand out for my phone but he instead takes it to pull himself up. “Give it.” The man feigns giving it back, only to resume holding it over my head. “That’s it!”

I lunge at the King, starting a skirmish that rolls around the campsite. Nobody draws weapons; it’s a simple quarrel over a phone so there’s not going to be any murder involved…Probably.

My hand comes up, slapping Noctis’s and freeing the phone but I didn’t exactly think it through. The phone soars through the air and I’m pretty sure I’m about to have a useless cell phone. However, Noctis catches it before it can crack on the haven floor in a stroke of luck.

“Phew,” he sighs. Relieved, he gives me a smile, my phone sparkles in his hand then disappears, and he jams his hands in his pockets. A second later, those cobalt eyes go wide. “Oh…shit.”

Storming towards him, I grip his jacket. “What do you mean oh shit?!”

Hands in the air, the King watches me like he does the dangerous fiends we come across. “I, uh, I may have just ruined your phone.”

“WHAT?!” I change my mind: murder might be involved.

��“Well magic and electronics don’t…exactly…mesh together well. The magic tends to destroy electronics…like phones.”

As the realization dawns on me, the anger rises. I start rattling the man. “YOU RUINED MY PHONE?!”

“It was an accident!”

“YOU LOST ALL MY INFORMATION AND CONTACTS!”

“I’M SORRY!”

I hold my hand out, silently demanding my device. Sheepishly, the King summons the stolen phone and slips it into my grasp. Turning away from him, I hold down the power button but I’m not even getting the dead battery signal, which is crap because I know there was at least 50% battery.

“Rrrrgh!” I hurl the phone over his head and stalk towards the campsite.

“Where are you going?!” Not answering, I snatch up his phone from the table. Immediately, Noctis starts for me. “Ah, hey! That’s mine!”

I put some distance between us, holding the phone out of his reach. “Not anymore it’s not; you broke my phone so this is mine now.”

His face erupts in a shade of red and it’s an interesting sight to see Noctis becoming so flustered. “No! It’s not! I’m sorry I broke your phone but you can’t have mine!”

Ignis slips from the tent, looking over the minor chaos of me and Noctis. “What’s going on here?”

Prompto glances up from his camera. “Noctis broke their phone so now they’re taking his.”

I slap Noctis’s hand away from me. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if you didn’t steal my phone and then sent it to your magical alternate dimension!”

“Oh,” Ignis hums unbothered. Then his eyes widen. “…Oh!”

There’s an interesting anxiousness on Noctis’s face. “Come on! Just give me my phone back!”

“No. You broke mine and lost everything I had on it,” I retort.

“Please! Give it back!”

Rolling my eyes, I turn to walk away. A spoon clatters on the ground and I have only a split second to get the phone out of Noctis’s reach. “Excuse you!”

“Give it back!”

“No!”

This turns into the second tussle of the night with the roles reversed. I may be shorter than the King but that doesn’t mean I can’t play my own game of keep away. It’s also in my favor that said man’s desperation works against him, making him far more straightforward and easier to read.

Noctis reaches across me once again but, with my elbow against his chest, he can’t quite steal my stolen prize. I push back and the man stumbles back, foot catching on an uneven part of the haven’s stony floor and ending up on his ass.

Grinning triumphantly, I press the home button and swipe to unlock. That’s certainly not what I expected to see after unlocking Noctis’s phone. I expected some picture of a video game scene or a picture of his friends or his fiancée; hell, I even expected a picture of a damn fish. But not this. Noctis’s wallpaper is a picture of us, me pulled against his side as we give peace signs, dirty and bruised, fresh off a hunt; but it’s us.

Confused, I look back to Noctis who could possibly burst into flames at any moment. I show him the picture.

“Why am I your wallpaper?” I swear I see smoke coming off him, but he doesn’t answer. “Noctis.”

“Are you dumb, shorty?” laughs Gladio, closing his book, clearly more entertained by us. “Why else would he have you as his wallpaper?”

It’s my turn to burn up while Noctis glares daggers.

Ignis starts working on dinner from his make-shift cooking station. “Indeed. He’s not exactly subtle about it.”

“Subtle enough they didn’t notice,” Prompto says. The blonde lifts his camera to snap a picture. Now I’m glaring too.

“Are we sure they’re capable hunters?” Gladio points out.

Ignis replies, “Just because they’re blindingly oblivious to each other’s feelings doesn’t make them terrible hunters.”

Noctis and I, equally flushed, glance to each other. The fight’s over; I can’t even look at him without agitating the butterflies in my stomach. Turning away from him, I take a seat at the fire and fiddle with the phone, not even caring that I’m leveling up Noctis’s King’s Knight character instead of mine. Noctis retakes his seat, staring into the fire that masks how flustered he’d been.

The night goes on far less rambunctious than it began. I’m not sure exactly what it is, perhaps those disturbed butterflies are far more addicting than I thought, but my gaze keeps trailing to Noctis. When I would’ve normally turned away to pretend I wasn’t, I just continue staring when caught. The corners of my mouth turn up and I get my confirmation of the butterflies—he returns the expression a bit bashfully.

I can exactly say things will progress in a natural or expected way; he’s got Lunafreya after all and I shouldn’t get in the way of that. But I highly doubt I’ll turn him down if Noctis decides to make a move.

~~~~~

A Week Later…

“Can I please have my phone back now?” groans the King,

I shift in my chair, propping my feet up on his knees. “No. You’re not getting this phone back unless you get me a new one.”

“But we don’t have any money.”

I continue tapping away. “Sucks for you then.”

Prompto leans closer. “If that’s your phone now, why haven’t you changed the wallpaper?”

“Prompto!” I shout, the embarrassment rising. Getting only a glance at Noctis’s amused face, I launch myself over the back of my chair and chase down the photographer who’s now screaming ‘Sorry! I’m sorry!’ as he flees.

~~~~~

A Month Later…

I pull the jingling device from my pocket. “Hello?”

The person on the other end of the line hesitates. “Um…Yes, hello. This is Marshall Cor Leonis. I’m looking for Noctis.”

I glance at said man. “Oh, sorry. But this isn’t his phone anymore.” Noctis frowns.

“I see. Does he have a new phone number I could call?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

“Wait-”

Before he can protest, I hang up and jam the phone back in my pocket. Not giving an explanation bothers Noctis enough for him to pester me.

“What was that?”

“Someone looking for you.”

He waits expectantly, getting frustrated when I don’t give him more. “What did they want?”

“He didn’t say. Was just looking for you. Then he asked if you had a new number but you don’t.”

“Who was it?”

“Some guy named Leonis.”

His hands go to his hair dramatically. “You hung up on the Marshall?! Gimme the phone!”

“No! It’s mine!” I step back defensively.

“Just give it to me! I gotta call him back!”

“It’s my phone now!”

“Just let me call him!”

“No!” I take off with Noctis chasing after me.

In the distance, we hear Gladio yelling, “Get a room, you two!”

#Noctis Lucis Caelum #ffxv noctis #noctis #noctis x reader #noctis x oc #gender neutral reader

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ghostiewriter · 3 years

Note

67/76 for hurt! Kiara and protective! JJ

OKAY SO😂I couldn’t decide between ansgty or goofy so I kinda mixed them, more towards the goofy side though since I have a few angsty prompts coming up! But yes, hope you enjoy! This does mention blood and injuries, just an fyi to people!

Word Count: 1.8K

Prompts: “I’m afraid.” // “I think you need stitches.”

This was supposed to be their chill day.

The day that was reserved for just them. No pogues, no adventures, no crazy ass plans. Just JJ and Kie.

Some may even call it their date day—although according to Sarah, hanging out and getting high does not count as a date. The couple were inclined to agree, these days weren’t a new occurrence. It was often how they spent their days together even before they officially became a couple, except now there was the odd make out session sprinkled throughout and far cheesier flirtation banter. But it was still their day and they cherished it.

The plan was simple enough. Kie had packed some food from the restaurant and grabbed a couple of beers, JJ was in charge of getting some decent joints from his cousin and the two of them would take the Pogue out for the day. It was probably the most romantic you’d ever see the couple get.

They had taken the boat down south along the coastline, it wasn’t very explored in terms of how often the pogues ventured down there but JJ was feeling a bit adventurous. Plus Kie had no arguments as she happily sat back and watched JJ steer, one hand resting on the metal framing in such as casual way whilst the other was on the wheel, but the brunette found herself quite happily distracted by the straining back muscles that were in her line of sight—his tank long abandoned somewhere with the sundress she had slipped on over her bikini for the ten minute drive from her house to the Chateau.

Maybe if either of them had taken a few moments to think about the area they had anchored in or even glanced at a map, the whole situation could have been avoided. So in hindsight, maybe it was slightly their fault for being so reckless. However, Kie was more inclined to blaming the bastards that dump whatever trash they wanted into the ocean, not only because of the harm it caused to the wildlife but apparently humans too.

A couple of beers in, JJ was tugging on her hand to drag her up from her seat as he terribly danced along to the music blasting from the speaker they had brought with them. “C’mon, stop being a bore!” He whined childishly as she begrudgingly got up.

“I’m not being a bore,” She laughed, letting herself sway a little to keep him happy as he continued to mouth the words to ‘Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!’ that was currently playing. “I was enjoying the show.”

“Hm, it doesn’t come for free, ya know.” He murmured as he puckered his lips, making little kissy noises until she finally gave in. And Kie had assumed that would be enough for him, that she could happily indulge in some of the crabsticks she brought. But in true unpredictable JJ fashion, he was throwing her over his shoulder without a warning. Kie squealed, her nails digging slightly into his back so she didn’t flip over.

“JJ, what the hell!” She exclaimed, but the giggles escaping her lips told him that she wasn’t really mad.

“Thought you’d appreciate the view.” JJ replied as he lightly spun around, a grin etched on his face when he heard her laugh harder.

“I don’t know,” She said, staring down at his ass. “I’ve seen better.”

“Oh, you’re going to regret that, Carrera.” He warned.

“I’m afraid,” She giggled back. “Not one of JJ Maybank’s notorious empty threats!”

“Have I told you how hot you look today, Kie?” He asked suddenly in an oddly innocent and un-JJ like way.

“Like I need you to tell me, I know I look great.” She sassed back, letting out a small gasp when she felt him slap her ass. She could practically hear the smirk on his face.

“I think you need to cool down a little.” He retorted, already making his way towards the stern of the boat. Her eyes widened slightly as she tried her best to hold onto him.

“JJ, DON’T YOU DA—AHHH!”

By the time she surfaced, she could already hear JJ’s laughs. She ran her hands through her hair, pushing it out of her face as she looked up at the blond with a glare. He was grinning innocently back at her.

“You look cool in there.” He snickered.

“You’re an ass.” She called back, moving her arms in gentle circles to keep herself afloat.

“Ah, but I’m your ass.” He grinned back and she didn’t disagree. Eventually, she had managed to convince him to come in with her—of course the asshole canon-balled in—the water actually feeling great against the midday heat.

They tried not to venture too far from the boat, although that wasn’t a problem when they realised quickly that most of the surrounding area was just marshy and not great for swimming.

“God, this feels horrible.” Kiara muttered as she glanced down, as though she would actually be able to see much. Still, didn’t stop her from trying.

“I kinda like it,” JJ spoke up, seeming to enjoy himself despite Kiara’s constant requests to head back to the Pogue. “Feels like I’m walking on a marshmallow.” He added nonchalantly.

“Congratulations, your eight year old self’s dream came true,” She commented with a small chuckle, almost as if she was imagining young JJ with his horribly done buzzcut. “Now can we please head back? I’m fucking starving.”

“Geez, you get cranky when you’re hungry.” He teased, promptly avoiding the splash that she had directed his way. He only cackled, yelling that the last one to make it to the boat gets a warm beer before he got his head-start back.

Kie only laughed, calling him a cheater as she followed suit. Except getting out of the marsh was a little harder that she assumed, kicking her feet and swearing under her breath whenever she got stuck again.

She felt a nip—or maybe it was more than a nip but the adrenaline of the competition was coursing through her—and when she went to kick her leg free once again, she felt a sharp pain run up her leg. Kiara didn’t even remember screaming until JJ was on his way back, eyes wide in concern.

“Kie, what’s wrong? What happened?” His eyes glazed over her as though he was trying to see the cause of her scream.

“M-My leg.” She whimpered, feeling her eyes well up with tears as she tried to free her leg once again, only to feel another shot of pain.

“Jellyfish?” He asked but she simply shook her head. “Okay, let’s get you back to the boat.” He murmured, heart racing when he saw some red residue on his hand after he helped her tug her leg free.

It was a hassle but JJ didn’t care, his first priority was getting Kie back somewhere safe and right now, that was the boat. He helped her up before he pulled himself onboard, his eyes falling onto her leg.

His eyes widened when he saw the massive cut on her leg, the lower half of her left leg covered in blood. He could feel his throat closing up, mind racing and hands shaking. Everything around him seemed to drown out as he stared at her leg, and it wasn’t until she felt her tugging his hand and calling his name that he seemed to snap out whatever trance he was in.

“Right, sorry!” He quipped before he grabbed a towel and placed it down on the seats before gently lifting her on top of it. He then disappeared to grab the first-aid kit they kept on board, but Kie didn’t miss the way his hands were a little shaky when he placed it down beside her, fingers fiddling as he attempted to open the box.

She won’t lie, the salt water made it sting like a bitch. It hurt and she probably should’ve been more alarmed at the amount of blood dripping down her leg, but she had never seen JJ so shaken up. She didn’t peg him as the squeamish type, so she couldn’t really understand what’s got him so freaked out.

“Jay…” She whispered softly, placing her hands over his. He finally looked up at her, sniffling slightly and it was then she noticed how red his eyes looked—though she wasn’t sure if that was because he was crying (or trying his hardest not to) or if he had just gotten some salt water in his eyes—but either way, she hated the broken look on his face.

“I-I’m sorry, I should’ve listened to you when you said we should head back.” He began to ramble, not seeming to have control over his words. “I shouldn’t have even thrown you in the water in the first place!”

“JJ, it’s okay.” She whispered, turning her body to face him as much as she could without moving her leg. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I’m still sorry—”

“Nope, no more apologising.” She scolded lightly, giving him a small—and hopefully comforting—smile. “C’mon, Doc, fix me up.” She added, nudging his shoulder a little. She relaxed a little when she saw the small smile on his face.

“Dr Maybank to your rescue.” He huffed out as he opened up the first aid kit, grabbing some wipes before he gently began to clean the wound and surrounding area. She watched him carefully, lip tugged between her teeth to contain her winces. She noticed the little crease between his eyebrows as he focused at the task at hand. If she didn’t feel a shooting pain down her leg every time he even touched it, she would’ve basked in the adorable scene of focused JJ.

“I think you need stiches.” JJ spoke up, staring at her wound with a thoughtful face.

She looked down at her leg, trying not to wince. It was a clean cut, probably from some broken glass hidden in the marsh. And it was deep, but Kiara didn’t think it was stitch-level deep.

“You’re being overdramatic, just need to wrap it up and dose myself up on some paracetamol.” Kie said with a roll of her eyes.

“Hey, I watched Grey’s Anatomy with Pope,” JJ said, hands on his hips as he looked between Kie and her leg. “I think that makes me pretty qualified to say that you need stitches.”

“You watched one episode, dumbass.” She scoffed. “Just drive back, I don’t need you performing amateur surgery on my knee.”

Except it had taken at least fifteen minutes before Kie finally convinced JJ that she was comfortable and fine and that he could stop fussing over her. He only narrowed his eyes at her before pressing a kiss to her forehead and handing her a joint, saying it would help with the pain.

“You know, it’s kinda cute.” Kie called out, moving her eyes away from the passing scenery as she looked at JJ from over her shoulder.

“What is?” He asked.

“Your little protective mama bear side.” She said with a snicker. JJ rolled his eyes in response, but there was a smile on his lips.

“Well excuse me for being a caring boyfriend.” He huffed out.

“I said it was cute!”

“Yeah, yeah! Whatever!”

“Uh oh, mama’s mad.”

#jiara #outer banks #obx #jiara prompts #writing prompts #my writing

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writemywaytoyourheart · 4 years

Text

BTS Reaction: When He's Sick | Hyung Line

Requested: long long ago :')

Genre: flufff

Warnings: nada

BTS When You're Sick here

Maknae Line here

Hope you like it, I didn't sleep for this~

==================

KIM SEOKJIN:

Gimme dat kith boi, mwuah!

"Jin! Get your butt back in that bed right now!" You scold your husband the second you see him standing in the living room while you're cooking soup for him in the kitchen. He smiles sheepishly and waves a dismissive hand, "I'm fine, I want to help." His voice cracks and you frown at him in disapproval.

"Honey, you literally have the stomach flu. Stop being ridiculous, and just let me help you get better." You walk over to him and feel his forehead, frowning again when it's obvious he still has a fever. Jin's pale face drops in disappointment, "I hate being sick. I feel bad leaving you to do everything." You smile at him and pat him on the head consolingly.

"I love taking care of you, now get back in that bed. I'm going to go pick the kids up from school and then you're going to eat the food I bring you. Understood?" He pouts but nods weakly, letting you kiss his head and ruffle his bed head.

"And don't you dare get out of that bed unless it's to use the restroom!" You point at him and grab your purse and keys. "Yes, ma'am." He mumbles before making his way back to to your shared room.

"Is daddy still sick mommy?" Your four year old daughter speaks up over her older brothers that are talking next to her as you're driving them home from school.

"Yes, Kinny baby. Daddy is going to be sick for a few days, and I don't want you kids catching it so please don't get too close, alright?" You see her in the rearview mirror as she nods sadly and fiddles with her tiny fingers. The twins keep bickering quietly over something that happened at school. You shake your head and sigh, not wanting to deal with that right now. When you four make it back home, you send them off to wash up and start their homework before dinner. Seungwoo and Hwangwoo race to their room and Min-Ki goes to find her toys, since she's only in preschool and doesn't have any schoolwork to do. You finish up the soup and put some in a bowl to bring to Jin.

When you open the bedroom door and see him sleeping, you smile at him and sit on the edge of the bed carefully. "Jin, baby. Wake up, we need to get some food into you." You whisper and shake his shoulder a little. His eyes flutter open and he smiles at you, "Hi, princess. Are the kids home?" He croaks out as he tries to get into a sitting position.

The sound of giggles outside of the door answers his question and he smiles sadly. "I want to see them. Please, baby?" He pouts and you hand him the bowl of soup to eat.

"Of course you can see them, honey. They just can't get too close, I don't want them catching it. Eat that slowly, ok?" He nods and you go to fetch the children.

"Boys, Min-Ki! Daddy wants to see you!" You call out, smiling when you hear little feet running. Min-Ki comes charging down the hall first, a doll tightly gripped in her hands. Then her brothers, who are three years older than her and much faster, run past her and she pouts. "No fair! Slow down, you boys!" She shouts after them and you laugh at her cute face, swooping her up in your arms and carrying her to your room.

Your husband is beaming when he sees all the kids gathered by his bed, "Hi babies!"

"Hi, dad!" Seungwoo waves at him from the foot of the bed and Hwangwoo fiddles with his hands before asking quietly, "Does it hurt, daddy? Are you okay?" Jin clutches his heart and then his stomach, groaning dramatically, "Ohhh it hurts so bad Hwangie!"

"Jin!" You laugh at him and Hwangwoo cracks a smile while Seungwoo laughs loudly. Min-Ki wiggles put of your arms and runs to the side of his bed, "Really daddy?" Her big eyes stare at him worriedly and he smiles at her, "No, daddy was just playing sweetie. I'm okay." She nods, unconvinced. Then she holds up her doll and puts it in Jin's lap, "Here daddy, dolly always make me feel better when I'm sad. She will help you, too!"

Jin takes the doll and sets her by his pillow, giving her a small share of the covers, then he turns to the little girl, his eyes watering.

"Thank you, Kinny. I'm sure she'll take good care of me."

You smile at him and he grins back at you, mouthing 'I love you' and blowing you a dramatic air kiss, sending the kids into another fit of giggles.

You love that he always wants to make his loved ones laugh, even when he's sick in bed.

That's your sweet husband for ya.

MIN YOONGI:

So soft ;-; may I hug?

"Hello?"

"Yoongi, are you still at the studio?"

Your fiance internally groans at your question, knowing you caught him red-handed this time. He covers the phone to clear his throat, then he tries to put his best 'not sick' voice into play. "I'm just finishing something up, I swear I'll leave after this." Your silence on the other end makes him cringe, he can tell you're not happy with him. Yoongi is usually the one to intimidate others, but when it comes to you, he'd rather not cross the line. Especially when you know he's overworking himself, your mama bear instincts come out and he instantly regrets everything. Of course all you want is the best for him, but that doesn't mean you aren't scary when he disappoints you because he isn't taking care of himself.

Right now, he had a nasty cold and he's been stuck in this studio for who knows how long because he's a perfectionist. He's driving himself crazy, at this point.

"I'm coming over, unlock the door."

"Baby, you don't have to do tha-"

He sighs when you hang up before he can finish. "Aish! I'm in for it now." He groans and runs his hands down his face. Not ten minutes later, there's an annoyed knock at the door. Yes, he can tell you're annoyed by your knock, that's how close the two of you are.

"Min, you better open this door or so help me."

He almost smiles at your voice coming in through the door, if you weren't so mad he'd find it cute. Alas, you're extremely mad. He gets up and walks to the door, accepting his fate. The second the door is unlocked, you push your way in, knocking him out of the way and making him stumble back.

You pay him no mind, just shove your way in and shut the door behind you before turning to glare at him. "Care to explain yourself, or is it the same excuse?" You cross your arms as you study him.

Yoongi sighs and plops back down on his chair, "Y/n, you know I have a busy schedule and I need to get this done no matter what."

"Ah! So it is the same excuse, great."

"Y/n, babe-"

"No, you shut up and listen to me, mister." You glare at him and he snaps his mouth shut immediately. You drop the bag you were carrying on the coffee table and pull out a few things.

You set a bag of cough drops on his desk, followed by a box of tissues and some honey tea to soothe his throat. Then you step back and glare at him again. "I brought this for you to get better, not to make you ruin your schedule." You say bitterly.

Yoongi feels guilty as he stares at the stuff you got him, then he looks back at you. "I'm sorry. I really am, I'm just so stressed right now and I blamed you. This is all on me."

You give him a half smile, "Well, I forgive you. I'll leave you alone now." A pair of arms grabs your waist before you can get too far, pulling you in and making you sit on his lap. "Please stay, I'm sorry."

You pretend like you're thinking, then laugh when he starts to tickle you. "Ok, fine!"

Yoongi smiles and kisses your hair, "Thank you for always taking care of me, baby."

JUNG HOSEOK:

Ohhhhhh noooo I luv him

"You okay, hyung?"

Jungkook walks over to Hoseok, who's bent over and breathing hard with his hands on his knees. The older boy looks up and nods, sending the youngest a bright smile, "I'm fine! Just lost my breath for a minute there. Let's go again."

Jungkook nods uncertainly, knowing Hoseok is usually the last to run out of steam out of all seven of them. "Ok, but if you need to take a break it's fine." Hoseok shakes his head and waves for someone to start the music again. They all start from the top, going hard. In the middle of the dance, Hobi starts to breathe harder, his chest tight and a horrible tickle in his throat. The room feels so hot, but it seems like no one else is struggling. He sucks it up and continues to do the best he can. It's Seokjin that stops them when the dance is almost finished, waving a hand to get everyone's attention.

"Hold up everyone. Please stop the music." Then he walks over to the lead dancer and touches his shoulder, "You need to take a break, Hobi. You're totally flushed and I can see you struggling."

Hoseok frowns and shakes his head, then he tries to speak up but Jin interrupts him, "No. No excuses, if you don't stop I'm going to call Y/n and tell her what's going on."

That makes him freeze, then he grinds his teeth and nods grimly, "Fine. I'll take a ten minute break, that's it." Seokjin nods and waits for him to go and sit on the couch, then he tells the other members to take a break as well. Hobi is sitting there with his head in his hands as he starts to feel worse and worse. He hasn't felt his best for the past few days but this is much worse. He feels like his whole face is on fire and his muscles are aching more than they ever have. Not to mention his tight chest and awful congestion.

When the ten minutes are almost up, Taehyung comes over to him and sits down. "Hyung, we think you should go home. Just get some real rest and we'll pick it up again soon." The elder shakes his head, "No I can't, we need to get this down."

Just then door opens and Hobi sees you walk in with a worried expression. When you see him on the couch you come over and sit on his other side, touching his shoulder gently.

"You feeling okay, sunshine? What's going on?" You ask softly, sending Tae a grateful smile when he stands up to leave. Hobi is about to lie and say he's just tired, but he decides against it when he sees the look in your eyes and he knows you're really worried.

"I think I might be coming down with something, but I can't afford to lose practice time!" He groans and puts his face in his hands. You pat him on the shoulder and rub his back comfortingly, "Sweetie, I totally understand why you're stressed. You need to take care of yourself though. Think about it like this, if you spend a few days and get better then you're good for the rest of the comeback prep. If you push yourself, then it could come back to bite you in the butt at a worse time, like in the middle of tour or even in the middle of a performance." He looks at you, thinking about what you're saying. "You have time to get better right now, you won't have that time in a few weeks and you'll just get worse."

He sighs and lays his head on your shoulder, "You're right. As usual." He chuckles quietly and you smile and reach up to pat his cheek gently.

"So you'll let me take care of you?"

"Yes, thank you baby."

You have him stay at your place for the next few days while you make him rest in bed and eat and drink everything you bring him. You're bringing him some soup and you smile when you see him all cuddled up in the covers up to his chin. His flushed face makes you pout and give him a quick peck on the forehead. "I brought you some soup, love. Feel like you can stomach it?" He nods and shifts into a sitting position, "Thank you baby." He croaks out and you smile at him encouragingly as he takes a bite.

"It's really good baby, thank you."

"You're welcome, I'm glad it's good." You crawl over him and settle down next to him in the bed, grabbing the book you're reading to him and flipping to the last page you were on.

"Ready?"

Hobi nods and smiles as leans back on the headboard, closing his eyes to pay attention to your voice as you start to read.

KIM NAMJOON:

wow you're hella cute tho ok then

"No, I'm not sick. Do I look like sick? I am perfect. I am healthy."

Namjoon laughs at his own joke after answering some comments worrying about his health on Vlive. He's had a bad cold for the past few days, but he missed ARMY and wanted to talk to them all, so he decided to do a live and try his best to look like he isn't sick. Unfortunately, he isn't fooling a lot of ARMY.

"Well, it's really late here so I should be getting to bed. I love you ARMY, sleep well and good luck on your exams for those that have them! Eat and sleep well! Bye~"

Namjoon smiles and waves until he presses the 'end live' button, then he starts to cough loudly, having held it in all that time. He sneezes and grabs some tissues, miserably wiping his sore nose. "Why me? Why now?" He grumbles and crawls into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin and trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. Eventually, his body is so exhausted that he just passes out, sleeping fitfully the rest of the night.

The next day he wakes up to his phone ringing. He groans at the light from the sun and grabs his phone, answering it without looking at who it is.

"Hello?"

"Joonie?"

"Oh, hey Y/n! Good morning, love."

You laugh on the other side and he smiles sleepily as you talk, "Morning, babe. How are you feeling?"

"Worse."

You can practically hear his pout through the phone and you frown, "Aww, can I come see you?" Namjoon sits up and rubs his eyes, then he lets out a few painful coughs before answering, "I don't want you to get sick, babe. I'll be okay in a few more days."

"Please take care of yourself, Joon. You need to keep up your strength."

Namjoon gives you confirmation that he'll do just that, then he says goodbye so he can start his day. He's got a lot to get done today. But after he gets up, it becomes quote obvious he won't be able to focus on anything important today. A few hours later the door bell rings and he goes to check the peephole, only to see you standing there with your hands behind your back. You boyfriend opens he door and smiles at you sadly, "Honey, I said I don't want you to get sick." You step inside and hold up the bag you were carrying behind you, "I know you did, and I got a call from Seokjin saying you're staying home today because you're sick. That means it must be pretty bad. Therefore, here I am to cure you!"

He laughs at your cuteness and follows you to couch, "Well, the worst is the cough and sneezing, because it's making me dizzy. I just needed a day to rest, I guess." You smile and pat his thigh when he sits down, "Thank you for not pushing yourself Joon."

Then you pull out all your cold remedies; including medicines, herbal teas, snacks, tissues and a few good rom coms. "What should we do first?" You grin and it instantly brightens his spirits.

You two end up drinking herbal tea with your snacks while you watch a movie and cuddle up in a bunch of blankets on the couch, deciding to just have a well earned lazy day.

Namjoon laughs at the show and smiles at your cute reactions during the romance scenes, keeping the covers tucked around himself as he waits out his sickness with his favorite person.

============================

a/n: i’m tired ;-; Happy Easter to those that celebrate it :D if not, then happy day!

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wifeofkimtaehyungofbts · 3 years

Text

Chapter 11

>> Pairing: Taehyung x Y/N, Taehyung x reader

>> Words: 2,379

>> Notes: I’m going to upload a new chapter whenever possible. Please bear with my hectic schedule! You may leave asks and let me know what you think of my writing (:

Synopsis: You run into a rather strange man one night. He seems terrified, as if fighting battles only he can see. He seems detached from the world, talking only to a voice inside his head. Oh, another strange fact: he keeps talking about angels. You discover later that you were the angel he was praying to.

>> Previous / Next

“Hey"

I jolted at the sudden voice echoing against the walls of the eerily quiet changing room of the McDonald’s.

Jungkook was leaning against the door. His apron was thrown over his shoulder and he cocked his head at me.

“Wanna go out tonight?”

“Huh?” I wasn’t quite sure I heard him right. Jeon Jungkook. The guy that hardly ever talks to anyone. The handsome guy who shies away from girls at the cashier trying to get his number. The guy who leaves work without sparing a second for an after-work chat with his colleagues. Wants to go out with me?

I continued to stare at him in shock. Instead of breaking the awkward silence between us, he stared back at me. His dark chocolate brown eyes looked deep. Not in the romantic sense. It almost seemed like there was an entirely different person behind them. If the person differed from the one who stood before me in a good way or a bad way, I couldn’t tell. But what I could tell was that if I didn’t reply fast, we'd be staring into each other for all of eternity.

“Don’t you have work?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “You are supposed to fill me in tonight because Felix had an emergency at his house and couldn’t make it”

“I got someone else to cover for me" he shrugged.

I wanted to know more but I figured it didn’t really matter as long as my shift was covered and he didn’t get into trouble either.

“Gimme a minute. I need to wash my face” I said turning my back on him.

As I busied myself removing my hair tie and gathering my hair in a bun, I felt someone lightly brush against my back. I wanted to turn but it felt too cold.

“You look beautiful Y/N" Jungkook whispers, his warm breath blowing the hair at the top of my head.

In reflexive panic, I grabbed my bag pack and dashed to the girl’s bathroom. I couldn’t calm my racing heart as I tried to shake off the eerie coldness I felt a few seconds ago.

Why did Jungkook come onto me so suddenly? And what’s with the compliment? I mean sure, thank you but it felt so off. He didn’t sound sweet or shy when he said it. He sounded stern, like he was stating a matter of fact I better believe else.... else?

Else what, Y/N? He was going to kill you??

I slapped myself for overthinking and washed my face before hurrying to the front. My colleagues were busy with customers so I couldn’t wave them goodbye. I stepped outside to the chilly air, spotting Jungkook standing by the road. I walked up to him and smiled warmly.

He looked down at me and smiled back. “Do you like pizza?”

“Who doesn’t!” I giggled, already drooling at the mere idea of pizza.

He laughed as we started walking towards the Arthur’s Pizzeria around the corner.

We were seated by the window across from each other. The table was too big for just us two, but we were glad no one else attempted to sit with us. It was fine, just the two of us.

We ordered our pizzas and spoke about ourselves as we waited for the food.

I found out Jungkook is from Busan and he was studying music at the campus. He was in fact a top graduate from Busan Arts School along with some guy whose name Jungkook doesn’t remember. He likes to play video games and tries new activities every weekend. Last week he had attempted fishing with a friend of his and they ended up catching no fish but a cold so bad, Jungkook requested for an extension on his vocal exam. Oh, and he hates reading.

I told him about the time I submitted the wrong thesis paper for my semester end assignment and had to retake the whole module all over again in the next semester. He asked my favourite colour, movie and book. He judged me for being a book worm and laughed when I pouted at him in annoyance.

Our food arrived soon and we didn’t talk as we devoured the delicious, thin, saucy pizza. I caught him watching me from the corner of my eye but I made no attempt to eat decently. It’s not like I want to impress him or anything anyways.

Three girls seated at the table next to us wooow’ed at the sight of Jungkook. They turned their attention to me and stared on with disgust.

“What’s someone like him doing with someone like her?”

“God knows! See this is why we never get to experience anything good. Because the good guys are always after someone so random”

“It must be true love if he actually chose someone like her. I mean, look at her hair!”

I could even hear their eye rolls as loud as I heard their words. It pricked and I found myself slowing my eating. I suddenly couldn’t chew anymore. I felt restrained. Like someone had put handcuffs and a leash on me and I had to strain against them to take a bite of my pizza.

Growing up, I haven’t had the most stable family. My fatherless life had involved trying to work odd jobs since I was 13 and missing out mile stones other girls got to experience during their teen years. My first kiss wasn’t under a starry night with my first love, it was rushed and filled with greed at the car park of the local book store. And he cheated on me a week later with the girl who sat next to me at chemistry. The man I first shared a bed with was not looking for a long-term relationship and left me when he found a full time, high wage job at his uncle’s company in New York. My mother was crippling, losing a bit of herself every passing day until one day she came down the stairs to have her tea and I couldn’t even recognize her anymore. My sisters were still too young to understand life and I didn’t want them to see the world as I saw it. I wanted them to have a happy childhood and experience life as any growing child should. They were sent away to my uncle’s and although they were more than willing to also let me stay, I needed away. I left my mother as she screamed indecent words at me one night and took the subway train that led me here. The letter of acceptance from the university was the only good thing that has ever happened to me. I soon became best friends with my room mate who is the polar opposite of me but somehow, we spoke to the same stars and saw life in the same light. My life has always been rushed, difficult to comprehend and there was no easy way through. Having to hear the body that pulled me through those sleepless nights of putting my scared sisters to sleep and locking their doors so my alcoholic mother couldn’t hurt them with her drunk violence, the same body that has cried itself to sleep after carrying stack after stack of recycle paper up 7 flight of stairs for very little pay and a terrible neck and back ache, the same body that is still living and breathing and pushing through, is not good enough, is less, is devastating. It makes me want to cry.

I didn’t ask for such a difficult life. Additionally, my face is the only remainder of who my mom used to be; I am the spitting image of her. The her that was over flowing with positivity and had a heart of gold. The her that lovingly brought my sisters and I into this world and took us cycling and cooked our favourite pasta for our birthdays. To think this face, this remainder of what she looked like, who she was, is less makes my heart crinkle around the edges and burn in the deepest pits of its centre.

“All good?”

I look up to see Jungkook looking at me worriedly.

“Oh yes! I just.... should stop eating else I’ll throw up" I laughed awkwardly.

Jungkook continued to munch on his pizza as he stared at me. He was trying to read the worry in my eyes, the sad drop of the corners of my lips. I couldn’t hide my emotions on my face even if the world depended on it, so I wouldn’t be surprised if any minute now Jungkook presses me for answers and stories. Stories I’d rather keep hidden like I have all this time.

“Okay" Jungkook hums as he takes another slice of pizza. I look at him, grateful he dropped the subject. I watched on as he ate. He didn’t once lift his eyes to mine. He busied himself finishing up his own pizza and the remainder of mine. I wasn’t shocked he ate so much given the fact that he was full of muscle and stamina.

I looked out the window at the busy street. People walked by, carrying the weight of their lives on their shoulders. The lights from cars and street lights looked like stars on Earth from where I was seated. I felt a sudden sense of closure knowing I could disappear into the night, walk mindlessly around these people and no one would know who I am. I’d have no one to explain or compare myself to. Nobody would know what’s going on inside my head. Frankly, nobody would care enough to know. And it felt nice. To not be alive and surviving. I wanted to be light, float over the Earth and find my purpose at my own pace without trying to catch up with the rest of the world only to fall short of breath and lost.

“I don’t know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, but I’ll listen if you share” Jungkook wipes the corner of his mouth with a tissue. He has cleaned the trays of pizza without leaving behind even a trace of any food being there. I smiled kindly at his words.

“Thank you Jungkook. But I’m not thinking about anything that needs concerning attention”

My smile doesn’t reach my eyes and I know he noticed it. He pays the bill entirely despite me fussing about wanting to split the bill. We make our way back to my house, the breeze a little colder and stronger than yesterday, reminding us of the oncoming winter.

I pace the living room painfully slow, waiting.

Waiting for her to come back home.

Daffodil.

I have been practising what I wanted to say as I give her the present over and over again in my head. I had wrapped it neatly in a brown paper bag and tied with an orange ribbon I found on her study table. The wrapping was not at all attractive, but it was neat and I hoped she would see the value of the gift that’s wrapped rather than the wrapping itself.

I look at the time. 09.19pm.

She was supposed to be back a long time ago. I heard her making arrangements yesterday to leave early from work today. I had cleaned the entire house; sweeping the wooden floor boards, removing cobwebs and brushing off the dust that had collected on top of the cupboards and TV.

I did not have a phone on me and even if I did, its not like I had her number anyway. I sighed loudly and slumped on the cold floor. My eyes kept fluttering, threatening to close for hours. My shoulders felt heavy and I couldn’t pull myself up off the floor. I rested my head on the floor and allowed my eyes to close. The coldness from the floor piercing my right cheek was the last thing I was aware of before I drifted off to a sleep full of nightmares.

I saw it again.

The playground.

The swing.

The boy.

I was playing in the park around the corner from school. I had sand in my old, torn shoes and my school tie was hanging loosely around my neck. My hair was a mess and sweat dripped off the ends of my bangs. I was having too much fun running around to stop. I sat at one of the swings and turned to face the boy seated in the other.

“Hey!” I waved brightly.

He did not respond, his head bent low and slowly swinging. He had dark brown hair and a piercing in his left ear. I could not see his face because it was surprisingly too dark on the side of the swing he was on. It was almost as if a dark cloud was looming over him, night fallen on the side of the Earth he was on.

I turned away and focused on swinging as high up as I can. However, my merry only lasted for a short while because I had swung a little too high and as I swung back, I was thrown off the seat and face first onto the dirty sand. I got up spitting sand out of my mouth. Any average person would have shrieked in disgust and run straight home for a good shower at what just happened. But I just laughed, almost choking on my spit as I attempted to spit sand out of my mouth.

“Pathetic”

The boy suddenly spoke. His voice was soft, melodic and had a boyish charm to it.

He’d make a great singer if he could sing, I thought to myself.

I turned to look at him, mirth sparkling in my eyes.

“Ha! So you can speak! I thought-” I began but had to stop at the sight before me.

My eyes grew wide in terror as the boy lifted his head to reveal a face with no features except for a gaping hole where his mouth should be. A dark liquid oozed out of his ears, supposed-mouth and where his eyes should’ve been.

My breath caught in my throat as I tried to scream again and again, but no sounds came out.

Tag list: @tae-n-u

#bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fan fic #bts fan fiction #kim taehyung #kim taheyung x reader #BTS v #bts v x reader #bts taehyung #bts tae x reader #park jimin #BTS jimin #BTS jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #taehyung x y/n #tae x y/n #bts v x y/n #Angels

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meowdymista · 4 years

Text

Van der Driscoll Pt5

Warnings: Micah, violence

Part 4 & Masterlist

Part 6

Truth be told, after a week of being shunned by everybody except Arthur, you were starting to miss life as an O’Driscoll. Sure, they were slimy and smelly and brash and cruel, but they would at least excrete some sense of comradery alongside the shit they gave you.

You were used to being an oddball. Mocked for your smooth face, you insisted on a past life as a talented barber. If anyone cracked a shot at your wide hips, you placed a precise amount of lead in a non vital limb as warning to copycats. The terror of being discovered earned you a streak of being ruthless, which is how you climbed the ranks and managed to squeeze out regular breaks every few weeks.

The Van der Linde crap was something else though. The women pressing their lips together, the men spitting threats when Arthur’s out of earshot… Everybody was giving the two of you a wide berth and Arthur’s heavy sigh whenever he noticed someone acting colder than they had before didn’t do much to comfort you. This hurt on a personal level. You were the talk of this small town, but there was no house to take refuge in and no brick walls to keep the whispers out. Instead, you were sat on display with a billowing cotton sheet for privacy at best.

“They’ll get over it,” Arthur assures you daily. “They did with Kieran.”

Kieran Duffy - his whole corpse shook like the last leaf in autumn during a tornado. If your pulse was personified it would shake less, even when someone throws out a casual threat. Your feelings towards the man vary from disgust of his betrayal to rabid jealousy of him being able to live a life here without a bodyguard. As much as you appreciate your lover’s constant presence dissuading others from picking a fight, his protective streak was growing old.

Eventually, Hosea intervenes Arthur on his return coffee trip. Judging from Arthur’s glare, and the way he keeps looking back to you, it’s about a job that needs to be done. You know for a fact that money is thin on the ground - you’ve heard Miss Grimshaw berating the other men in camp about it, hissing with venum whenever they dare complain about picking up the slack.

After returning from another vain bathroom break (despite having little to no weight to push on your bladder, somehow your ability to retain liquids has diminished to that of a newborn yourself), you find Arthur gathering supplies.

“Won’t be long,” he assures you, a gentle kiss on your lips, squeezing your hand as he picks up his satchel. “Some feller other side of Valentine owes us money. I gotta go deal with him, but when I get back I was thinkin’ we could get outta here, do some huntin’ or somethin’, what you reckon?”

“Sounds great!” You force yourself to grin despite your stomach sinking faster than a wounded elk. Something in his eyes betrays his own attempt at make believe, jovially mounting his mare and galloping away with a small wave.

“New to camp?”

You look up as threateningly as you can. A man with sharp cheekbones and a thick dark beard is grinning at you jovially.

“Don’t get ya knickers in a twist - I ain’t gonna stab you or nuttin.” He holds out a grubby hand. “Name’s Peader.”

“Peter?” you repeat.

His eyes crumple with his chuckle. “Aye, if that’s easier for youse.”

You swear as you stick your thumb with the needle. You were better at gutting fish than needlework, and no one ate the fish you gutted. Seemingly tired of washing out more bloodstains, Miss Grimshaw calls you over to a wash basin to begin laundry.

“No heavy liftin’!” she snaps as you kneel on the ground beside the tub. “If you need somethin’ heavy movin’, you shout someone, y’hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply. You’ve overheard the other women in camp complaining about how bossy she is, but you find comfort in it - no matter how stern she can be, she never treats you differently for your time with Colm. For that, no matter how small, you can’t help but be grateful.

“It’s nice not to be the youngest for once.”

You stiffen. “What are you talking about?”

“I know I’m a hairy one for fifteen but-” Peter rubs the hair of his jaw pointedly and it knocks you sick. Two hours into this crazy life and you’re already found. What will they do to you now?

“Fifteen?” you repeat incredulously.

A belly laugh bubbles from his mouth. “Aye. Me balls dropped before I was walkin’, unlike youse. How old are you anyways, Thomas?”

“Fourteen,” you blurt out, your stomach dropping with every lie. At least you have a comrade to hide behind now. After all, this works better than the truth, and should hopefully buy you time until Heidi gets here.

You get to work, hating how the detergent creates a thick layer of slime over your skin. Even as your knuckles protest, you scrub until your arms ache, working out your frustrations against the ridges of the washer board. You keep your eyes down, your ears perked for any hint of ambush - but it still takes you by surprise when a pair of spurs stop too close for comfort.

“Ahh, Guinevere! We meet again!”

If anyone is hurt because of your actions, I’ll put a bullet in you.

You bite your tongue, wringing out a pair of Dutch’s trousers. You can feel the dead grey stare boring it’s way into your head before slowly sweeping over your body.

“Heard Ol’ Morgan’s knocked you up.” Micah chuckles, stepping forward to tuck a tendril of hair behind your ear, but you flinch at the contact. “But I ain't above tryin' again.”

Blood is roaring in your ears as your body tries to decide between fight and flight. Somewhere you can hear someone shouting, but it’s lost to the ripple of goosebumps up your back as he closes in on you.

“Whaddaya say, hmm?”

“I said leave her alone, dammit!”

“Oh, Miss Roberts,” he purrs, finally stepping back. “Of course you may join us. We were thinking about making it a party. Mom’s club, right? I mean, John and Arthur ain’t here, and since Jenny coulda been carrying Micah Bell IV, I guess it’s only fair I play the part of Daddy.”

You try to continue with the washing, but Abigail is tugging you to your feet by the back of your dress.

“In your dreams, Micah,” she snarls, pushing you to her tent where young Jack is drawing in the dirt with a stick. “Arthur’s gonna kick your ass from here to California if you keep hasslin’ her.”

“No need to get jealous, Abigail. I know it’s been a while since John’s taken to you. Where is he anyhow? Has he found himself a new whore to impregnate?”

“Piss off!”

He tuts, moustache twitching. “Now, that ain’t nice. I mean, can’t be worse than an O’Driscoll, can it? Poor Morgan. Just when you think he’s hit rock bottom, he just keeps rollin’, doesn’t he?”

“Bell!”

He turns into Arthur’s fist with a crunch. His horse is trotting away from the ruckus, the other men in camp hurrying over as Arthur straddles his swollen stomach and begins pummelling him with his fists.

“MR MORGAN!” cries Dutch, moustache twitching with fury. “What is going on?”

Bill tries to pull him off, but Charles pushes him aside, wrapping his arms around his middle and hoisting him to his feet.

“He’s not worth it,” Charles murmurs softly as he sets him down facing the other way.

“If you have somethin’ to say to her, you can say it to my face!” Arthur spits over his shoulder, fists still clenched, his breathing heavy although calming energy is flooding him from Charles’ touch.

“What has gotten into you?” demands Dutch, striding up with Hosea at his side.

“I come back in, after leaving her for an hour and Micah’s already slimed over!”

“A pretty bird like that - you can’t know she’ll come back to you until you set her free,” says Micah thickly, holding his sleeve against his nose.

“You’re a damn cockroach!”

“Alright, alright, everyone calm down!” Dutch surveys the crowd. “Micah. A word? And Arthur - why are you back so soon?”

“Feller’s croaked.” He glares at Strauss who’s working nearby. “He needs to be more careful who he loans to. Got the impression I weren’t the first to demand payment. Bastard owes more than he could’ve ever paid up.”

Dutch breathes out hard through his nose. "Well you better find the money from somewhere, son."

Shrugging Charles off with mumbled excuses, he all but flies to your side. “Y’alright? He didn’t hurt either o’ you, did he?”

“You think he’d still be here if he had?” Miss Roberts rolls her eyes.

“Thank you, Abigail,” he mutters when he’s assured himself you are completely unscathed. “I appreciate it.”

“Thank you. He’s had it comin’ for god knows how many weeks - here’s hopin’ he don’t go forgetting his lesson too soon.”

"I mean… well you know what I mean." He gives you a squeeze before heading after Strauss. “Gimme five minutes, Y/N, and we’ll head out.”

“Alright,” you reply, brushing off your skirts with a hesitant look up to your saviour. “Thank you for… that.”

"You dont talk much do you?" Her blue eyes are sharp, squinting at you suspiciously when you shrug.

"Reckon it's better I keep my mouth shut," you admit.

She thinks about this before nodding in agreement. "For future reference, nobody is gonna think bad of you if you call Micah out on his crap. He ain't too popular round here."

"Ok."

"And another thing?" She checks Arthur is still busy with Strauss before leaning in closer. "If you hurt him, you'll be lucky if Micah gets to you first,” she hisses. “We clear?"

You nod as fervently as you can until she waves a hand to dismiss you.

"Enjoy your evening, Y/N."

****

Riding out with Arthur, the tension you hadn't realised was being contained in your shoulder muscles rolls off of your body. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, your cheek resting in the middle of his shoulders. He tilts his head back to touch more of you as you descend down the side of the hill towards West Elizabeth.

He insists on setting up camp whilst you start fishing in Dakota's River. Eventually he plonks himself on the bank beside you, a foot of space between your bodies as he also pulls out his rod and sets to baiting.

You sit in the quiet, enjoying each other's presence without complications.

"You, sir, are a fish!" he grins as he pulls in a fat bass.

"Do you always compliment your prey?"

"I pay compliments where they're due, beautiful."

You laugh, casting out again.

"How was it today? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Who? Micah?" You twitch the rod. "No. You came back before it got out of hand."

"Everyone treat you ok?"

You shrug. What is there to say? No one trusts you. Half would be happy if you were still bound to the trunk. In all honesty you can't blame them; you yourself are struggling to trust them and there are times when you would rather be tied to a tree so you don't have to watch your back.

"Listen. We got word that one of the fellers from the ferry is being moved outta state." He reels in another fish much to your dismay. "Javier and Charles have already headed down there to scope it out, but Dutch is wantin' me to go after them, check it's ok."

You say nothing, knowing he isn't finished yet.

"I'd be gone a couple days. Maybe more, but I doubt it. The boys should have done the leg work by now, so it should be a matter of grabbing him and getting gone."

"Do what you have to do." You give him a small smile. "Won't do us no good if they think I'm turning you against them."

"True, but that won’t stop me." He stares you out with his handsome gaze. "Say the word and I'll stay. They won’t miss me much, I'm just an extra gun."

"Take your guns and go stretch your legs. I can look after myself."

"And the baby?"

"I can care for the wee O'Driscoll wain, aye," you tease.

He chuckles. “You been listenin’ to Miss Molly?”

“More like I’ve been surrounded by all manner of irish men til you lifted me out of there.” You twitch your rod again, gasping joyfully as you feel a tug.

“You think they’re missin’ you? Them O’Driscoll boys?” he asks as you land an underwhelming pickeral.

“There were too many of us,” you admit with a shrug, offering him a small reassuring smile. “It’s not the first time I’ve ceased to exist to them. All those times you and I were together, none of ‘em recognised me for who I really was. They might comment, sure, but to be fair it’s real easy to lose track of who you have and haven’t seen. No one’s blown a whistle about Kieran going missing and he’s been with you how many weeks?”

He chuckles softly, eyes sad. “I didn’t mean missin’ you as a gun. You not make any friends?”

“It- It isn’t the same as what you’ve got.” You force yourself to swallow the lump in your throat as you cast out again with what you hope to be a more tempting chunk of cheese. “Most of them, the way they talk about women… it’s enough to know you’ve got a spare gun in a fight. No more.”

***

Arthur leaves early the following morning. He leaves a heavy kiss on your lips, his eyes burning into you, swearing an unspoken oath that if anything happens whilst he's away, the devil himself will not stomach the consequences.

As much as Hosea has accepted himself as your guardian, he is often guarding the rest of camp like some over tired dad. To avoid another Micah situation, if not separated in Arthur's tent, you hover near him or the other women despite their dirty looks. Abigail appears to tolerate you, but Mary Beth is the only other woman in camp actively throwing you a smile. The blonde - Mrs Adler - seems to hate you the most. If you get too close, her arms shake from clenching her fists so hard.

"Are you a real life O'Driscoll?"

Pulled from your thoughts, you find yourself eye to eye with the little boy who’s still sniffling after being sick a few weeks ago.

“How’d you mean?”

“Mama said Uncle Arthur brought another O’Driscoll back.”

You huff, uncomfortable of the gossip going around. “I was. I’m not now, though. I’m one of you now.”

“Why?”

“Because…” You look around for his mother but come up empty. “Because if I was, I’d still be tied to the tree.”

“But why?”

“Because the O’Driscolls and the Van der Lindes aren’t friends.”

“Why?”

You resist rolling your eyes and instead send a prayer up to the heavens, marking it as urgent before you throw this boy off the cliff. “Because Dutch wasn’t very nice to Colm, and when Colm wasn’t nice to Dutch, he didn’t like it, and they decided you had to be on one side or the other.”

“Which one are you?”

“I’m a Van der Linde now, like you.”

“But Mama said-”

“I mean, I live with you now. With Dutch. Not Colm.”

He thinks on that, and the moment’s reprise is heavenly. You begin to hum to yourself, but are quickly interrupted.

“Ma said you tricked Uncle Arthur.”

“Did she?” you ask, too tired to be disappointed.

“Yeah. She and him talked a long time when you came back.” He’s picking the bark of his branch, dropping splinters into your shoes. “Mama said you was bein’ sneaky, but Uncle Arthur told her to get lost.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Is it true you’re gonna have a baby?” he asks brightly,

“Hopefully…” He frowns, confusion dimpling between his eyebrows. You realise that he is still in a place of innocence that the world is black and white. You swallow a lungful of air, trying to think how best to explain. “Something could happen yet- things go wrong sometimes and-”

“What sorta things?”

You tuck your hair behind your ears, poking at your stitching, wondering where the hell his mother has got to. “Well, it might not grow properly yet. Usually ladies don’t tell anyone until a bit further along… if I get sick, or if the baby gets hurt it might not… you know. It might not make it to being outside my tummy.”

“When will you know?”

“When it gets here I suppose.” You look up at the boy’s thoughtful expression. “Why so many questions? You excited?”

“Yeah! Ima be an uncle!”

“You’re a little young to be an uncle, kid.” You can feel your mouth pulling into a smile despite yourself. “You’ll be cousins though, I guess. Your pa and Arthur are brothers, right?”

“Right! So this is gonna be my brother?”

You stifle a laugh of disbelief. “Well we don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet-”

“Do you got any brothers?”

“Jack! You playin’ hide and go seek again?”

“I’m here, Mama!”

Abigail rounds the tent, her expression darkening at the sight of you. You gulp, dropping your gaze back to your stitching, but the boy is already gushing about the new information you’ve taught him.

“Mama! She said she isn’t an O’Driscoll, so that means she can stay right?” He’s pulling on his mother’s skirts, pointing at you like you’re a bear behind bars. “I’m gonna be a big brother!”

“Maybe,” you remind him with a little more force than intended.

Her blue eyes flash with suspicion before the tug attracts her attention again. “Jack, honey, the baby’ll be a cousin to you. For you to be a big brother, me and your pa would have to have another one of you.”

“You can do that?”

She gapes, a fish out of water. It’s painful to watch.

“This baby can be your brother or sister,” you splutter, more to the mother than her son. “I mean, Arthur’s your pa’s big brother right? But they don’t have the same mom and dad so if you love them enough, I don’t see the harm.”

He’s looking up with his big eyes until Abigail offers you a half smile. “Right,” she confirms, crouching down and straightening his little coat. “You’re gonna be a big brother. Uncle Arthur’ll be mighty proud of you.”

“Can I go play?”

“Sure, Jack.” She watches as he runs off, dragging his stick behind him. Slowly she turns to you, arms folded across her chest. “He weren’t botherin’ you, was he?”

“No, no, of course not!” At least, he isn’t now.

“I- I’m sorry if he was bein’ nosy. It’s alright to tell him to butt outta your business if he gets a bit much. He heard me talkin’ with Arthur ‘bout it all-”

“Yeah he said,” you say as offhandedly as you can manage. You notice her teeth pulling on her lip out the corner of your eye, but you don’t react. Keep your hands clean, you tell yourself, tying a knot and cutting the thread. Keep your nose out. Wait for Arthur.

“How are you feelin’? About it all?”

You look up, surprised by her gentleness after the cold front that’s been hitting you on repeat from every member of camp. Exhaling thoughtfully, you shrug, not objecting as she pulls over a chair to sit down at the edge of the tent. “Alright, I guess. Gotta just… see what happens, I suppose.”

“That’s what Arthur said.” She offers you a small sympathetic smile. “He ain’t usually one for whistlin’, but he ain’t stopped since we got off them mountains. Thought it was the change of weather, but I suppose, looking back, it was meetin’ you.”

Colour blossoms in your cheeks as you look away. “I wouldn’t know. He hasn’t exactly been in the best of moods the past couple of weeks.”

“He’s pleased,” she assures you quietly, her eyes bright and earnest with honesty. “I think he’s just nervous like you are, that it might not work out, but I known him long enough to tell you I ain’t seen this side to him since Jack was first born.”

Your ears prick. “He isn’t-?”

“No! No, Jack is a Marston, I got no doubt at all about that. I just remember him bein’ real pleased when Jack was a baby. He- Being a father is something he- he’ll enjoy I’m sure.”

“I know about Isaac,” you breathe quietly and she lets out a big sigh of relief.

“Oh good! I was worried I’d said too much.”

“Don’t worry. He told me in the doctor’s when-” You shake your head of the memory. “Anyway. I know he’s not sure about it all.”

“He will be.” She gives you a sincere smile. “He’s a worrier, even if he tries not to show it. He’ll be better when it’s here, safe and sound. Anyways - I best leave you rest.”

“Sure.” You hesitate before calling out to her, making her turn back. “Thank you,” you call, not really sure how better to express yourself. She smiles and gives you a wave of understanding.

“I’ll see you around.”

#red dead fic #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x fem!reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #meowdymista #Arthur Morgan x O'Driscoll

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vicunaburger · 4 years

Text

Imperfect and inhuman, are we?

Fandom: School of Rock: The Musical (AU Verse) Chapters: 2/? Pairing: Dewey Finn x OC (Magdalena Newton) The Players: Dewey Finn, Magdalena Newton, Ned Schneebly, The School of Rock Students Word Count: 1,779 Warnings: M for Future Things

Notes: Oh yeah, this was a thing I was doing.

Chapter 2 - Evening - Serenade

It was that near perfect sort of weather outside: the kind where it was cool enough to open all the windows, but not cold enough to warrant breaking out the portable heater and pointing directly at his feet. Instead of shutting himself away in the makeshift “soundproof” corner of his apartment, Dewey decided to take his personal jam session out onto the fire escape.

He had long since chased away the neighbors who took issue with his might tributes to the rock gods, so he wasn’t too concerned with having the police called on him.

Again.

Noise complaints carried expensive ass tickets.

Besides, using an acoustic guitar dampened the noise enough to satisfy the holdout residents around the building.

“Why is this G sounding like an A? Are you out of tune- fuck!” He mumbled though the impromptu song, angrily adjusting the strings. “I thought I fixed you when the humidity changed.”

“I don’t know that song,” a voice from the alleyway below called up to him. “Play Freebird.”

Startled, Dewey nearly fell off the windowsill onto the harsh, metal grating of the fire escape. Setting he guitar -gently- on the floor of the apartment, he climbed outside, peering down over the shaky railing to the ground below.

Looking ever so much the small, porcelain doll from such a height, he spotted a familiar woman wrapped in a winter white coat. Her dark hair spilled over one shoulder onto the pristine fabric, reminding him of one of those ink blot tests the Horace Green resident counselor would give the faculty every month.

She waved up to him, but it was hard to read her expression from such a distance. He could only assume she was in a good mood from her cheeky joke about requested another song. Then again, he had yet to see her in a bad mood.

Dewey was surprised -in the very best way- to see her so early in the evening. Magdalena had a habit of catching him as he arrived home from late night practice; it was uncanny how she always seemed to sneak up on him, barely making a sound as she approached him on the sidewalk. Normally, he could hear a pin drop from six feet away, but she was something else.

They would exchange pleasantries before she would continue her trek down the sidewalk toward the city proper, “to work” as she explained. She made no attempt to elaborate on what sort of job started so late at night; so, he guessed it was something medical.

Or she was a classy hooker.

Didn’t much bother him either way.

“Hey, Snow White!” Dewey called down to her, “Hold on, I’ll be right down.”

He near leapt back into his apartment, scrambling around on all fours, picking through various piles of laundry on the floor. They were organized – in a way – by the level of wear they received throughout the week. Obviously, something on the fresher side was the goal; it would be mortifying to pick out a shirt that had food stains or some other sign of his lack of forethought to hit the laundromat last week.

Magdalena always looked like a million bucks striking down that grimy sidewalk, whereas he looked like he rolled around a thrift store clothing bin.

He had gotten most of his wardrobe from thrifting, but she didn’t need to know.

“Aaaah – I’ll be right down… gimme just another minute.” He grabbed a sweater vest from under his bed, jamming it over his head as he yelled toward the window. “I don’t want you being late… for… whatever you would be late for!”

Struggling with the vest, as he had somehow managed to slip his head through an arm hole, he failed to notice the woman sitting politely outside the window.

Magdalena watching him angrily try and right himself; amused that he was taking such great pains to dress nicely for her sudden arrival. Frankly, what he already had on was enough for her, as she enjoyed seeing him so vulnerable?

No, casual was a better choice. Sometimes the nuance escaped her.

“No need to shout, Mr. Finn.” Magdalena finally announced herself, wanting to end his struggles. “I can hear you perfectly well.”

Dewey stopped midway removing the vest, dropping the garment to the ground, and pulling his t-shirt down over his stomach. It had ridden upward in his haste, exposing his midsection entirely. A bright blush spread across his cheeks, noting the fact she had been starting directly at the exposed pudge of his belly. Was it because of the pudge? It was the pudge, he concluded, her staring at him for any other reason was making a beeline for cheesy porn fantasy territory.

“What- how did you get up here?” He asked, blinking slowly.

Magdalena tilted her head, mirroring is blink, “The stairs.”

“Well, yeah duh the stairs, I meant like how you got up here so fast. There are like fifty steps up to this floor-” He sat on the windowsill across from her.

“Fifty-three steps.” She corrected him gently, brushing some stray hair behind her ear.

“How do you- “Dewey began.

“I counted.” Magdalena finished for him. “I passed all of my arithmetic courses some years ago, Mr. Finn, as I’m sure you have.”

Pausing, he ran a hand through his mess of hair, trying to smooth down his perpetual bedhead fluff. Magdalena’s hand twitched with the impulse to run her fingers through his hair, wondering if it would be as soft as it looked against her sensitive skin. It wouldn’t have been too hard to just reach over a little, just for a brief moment to keep that sensation as a memory.

Two things kept her impulse in check: one, social convention would frown upon such a familiar gesture of affection towards a man she hadn’t yet spoke a thousand words to altogether. Two; she dared not cross the threshold between the fire escape and his apartment.

Fire escapes were public, specifically owned apartments were not.

“I… sound like a complete jackass when I talk to you. I’m usually better? Sometimes. Most times. Promise. Swear on my vinyl collection; may it melt if I’m lying.” Dewey scratched the back of his neck nervously.

Shrugging, she gave him a small, reassuring smile, “Well, I don’t know anyone personally to compare your behaviors with, but I’m hardly offended by what you say.

Dewey looked about to cry, which she couldn’t be sure if it were because of her response, or the chill in the weather. He leaned forward, elbow on his knees, with his chin in his hand. The fact that his upper body was now technically beyond the windowsill was not lost on her, her eyes flicking down to calculate the angle between his head and the window frame.

He sighed heavily, taking note of her impeccable posture, “You’re so… polite, ya know that? Like those women in fancy drama movies on PBS. Sitting around waiting to marry some fancy lord or whatever. Why are you up here talking to me anyway?”

“Oh, well, shouting from the street would be grossly inappropriate. My mother, she always says, ‘Magda’” She deepened her accent, hunching slightly, “ ‘If they cannot be close enough to hear you speaking softly, they aren’t worthy of hearing what you have to say in the first place.’”

“So, you came up here because you wanted me to hear you better?” Dewey tried to piece what he could through the thick, eastern European accent she had donned. “I would have come down! Now you’ll get that coat all covered in rust and I’m gonna feel bad about it. And that’s gonna make me break out the wallet so you can get it dry cleaned, because I need to be a gentleman.”

Magdalena laughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand, “I can get it washed, no charity required. It’s just a coat; but a Mr. Finn is unique, so I will gladly sacrifice something that can be replaced.”

The rocker stared at her, his jaw a little slack, “…are you real?”

“The eternal question plaguing the greatest minds in history.” She played with the ends of her inky hair, twisting it around her fingers, “Maybe. Maybe not. In this instance of sitting with you, yes, we are real in relation to each other. Then again, when I leave, you might not exist until I come back. Or vice-versa.”

“Terrifying,” He replied, shaking his head sadly.

Seizing the opportunity, she reached over with her free hand, patting his shoulder softly, “Quite; but I could always be wrong, Mr. Finn.”

Dewey reached upward, placing his larger hand upon hers, frowning when he felt how cold she felt, “Hey, why didn’t you tell me you were freezing? Here.”

Before she could stop him, he took hold of both her hands, pulling them inside the warmth of the apartment, rubbing them between his own hands to generate heat. Magdalena’s arms felt like their were being pulled through a nest of razor wire, her very sinew feeling as if it were being peeled back from her muscles.

She steeled her expression, biting her tongue to keep from screeching in pain from his selfless gesture, trembling head to toe with the effort. He thankfully didn’t notice her discomfort, cupping his hands around hers and puffing warm breaths against her cold skin. What should have been a tender, friendly gesture was being overridden by her compulsion to stay outside. His permission needed to be verbal, not physical. Words were powerful things in her experience.

Her head was pounding, her vision growing blurry with the pain streaking through her veins like acid. Faintly, she could feel a small drop of blood leaking out from her nose, trickling down her to her lip, and falling onto her lap.

Dewey must have taken his attention away from her hands, his eyes growing wide as he let her go, “You’re bleeding? Are you okay? Snow?”

The woman pulled her hands toward her body, one of them going up to try and hide her bloody nose, “Oh! I’m… forgive me, it happens occasionally. Not your fault!”

The moment her hands were outside the threshold of the window, her body felt perfectly normal. No pain, no throbbing headache. Just as she had been moments before.

“Allergy medication. Sometimes with the dry weather… ah, still, I apologize for the gruesome interruption.” She took a handkerchief out of her coat pocket, wiping away the blood as best she could. “Did I get it all? Less hideous?”

Leaning forward, Dewey pretended to examine her face, struggling to keep a stern expression, “Well, less hideous than you usually are, so it’s a start. Might take a little more work to get you from hideous to tolerable.”

Magdalena pouted, stuffing the handkerchief back into her pocket, “I’ll enlist your help to make sure I’m daresay presentable in the future. Goodnight, Mr. Finn, I expect a better song choice tomorrow.”

Writing Tags: @amywright @mrgeuse @hoodoo12 @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @a-subconscious-manifestation @asriells @missihart23 @heknowshisherbs @clairjohnson

#school of rock musical #school of rock broadway #school of rock fanfiction #dewey finn x oc #school of rock AU #writing time

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breanime · 5 years

Text

Anger Issues

This is kind of a lil 5+1 fic I felt the need to do because of all the promos we’ve been getting showing Billy’s outbursts. Enjoy!

*gif not mine*

I may be pretty as an angel, but I sure as hell ain’t one. That quote always made you think of Billy. Of course, you’d never tell him that—you knew why he hated being called pretty and you’d never call him that, plus he wouldn’t take it as the compliment it was. Even after his face got scarred, Billy was still upsettingly, unnecessarily good-looking. Which was doubly frustrating because you were sure you’d get over your crush on him one day, but he was not making it easy. Still, you would choose being his friend over being one of his (many, many) conquests any day. Besides, even with his scars, he was still your Billy. It took him a while to get comfortable with the scars, but once he did, he was pretty much back to his old self...

“The fuck you just say to him?”

You turned from your place at the bar as soon as you heard Billy’s voice. He was nose-to-nose with some huge, dirty blonde guy a few feet away from your table. Curtis was sitting, looking exasperated.

“And so it begins,” Karen sighed next to you, “Let’s hope that woman with the Mastiff can keep Frank occupied for another 10 minutes.”

“She will,” you put your empty glass down at the bar and started towards Billy, “Jesus Christ, Bill.” You muttered.

It took you less than 5 seconds to dissect the situation. The blonde guy, who was starting to look more and more ridiculous as you got closer, had said something to Curtis. Curtis, being a reasonable adult, had probably tried to ignore him, but Billy, your angry noodle boy, was not having it.

“Fuck off, Scarface,” the blonde guy sneered; a small crowd was starting to gather, “I was talking to the cripple, not you.”

You locked eyes with Curtis. Okay, maybe you could let Billy have this one…

“Yeah,” Billy rolled his shoulders, “that’s what I thought you said.”

In a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flash of movement, Billy knocked the guy on his ass before anyone could even pretend to try to intervene. You took a step back and watched the show. The guy stumbled to his feet and threw a punch at Billy, but you’d seen this show before and weren’t worried. Billy shifted to the side and dodged the blow before delivering a harsh punch to the other guy’s jaw. You flinched—you could have sworn you heard bones break—and watched the guy hit the ground again. He didn’t get back up again. Someone started cheering and some guy yelled “drinks on me!” and you made your way to Billy’s side.

He glanced down at you as he massaged his knuckles. “Hey sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes at his casual tone. “It took you, what? A total of 30 minutes to get into a fight?” You asked, sliding into the empty seat next to Curtis. “I don’t know why we even waste time going to bars. We should just rent you out for street fights.”

“Long as you’re the girl in the bikini with the score card,” Billy said, sliding in next to you. He put his arm around your shoulder, a habit that you took a special, secret pleasure in.

You leaned into Billy’s space and took a sip of his drink. “As long as we’re wearing matching bikinis,” you said easily, “Black is my best color.”

He smirked, and you hoped he couldn’t hear how loud your heart was pounding. “Mine too.”

“Can’t you two flirt on the other side of the booth?” Curtis sighed from your side.

You laughed. Curtis was always complaining about the two of you flirting and the ‘sexual tension’ between you and Billy. You guys definitely flirted with each other, but it was just for fun, and any sexual tension was certainly one-sided. The night went on smoothly after that; Karen went out and dragged Frank back in and you spent the rest of the night with Billy’s arm around you, laughing.

********

“Holy shit, what happened to you?” It wasn’t even 6 am and you were standing in your doorway, staring at a beaten and bloodied Billy.

He stepped into your apartment, limping his way to the couch. “I went out with Frank last night.”

“And he what? Kicked your ass up and down New York City?” You went to the freezer and pulled out the icepack you kept for Billy.

“Please,” Billy winced through his words as you pressed the icepack into his side, “Frank couldn’t kick my ass even if I had my hands tied behind my back,” he kicked his shoes off and leaned into the cushions, “We had to check up on some assholes we met on the train,” he explained, “They were harassin’ this lady, we stepped in and…” He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Conversation turned a little rough.”

“Conversation, huh,” you grabbed the first-aid kit off of the side table. This was not a new routine for the two of you.

“Mm hmm,” he closed his eyes as you dabbed at the blood on his face. He wasn’t hurt too bad, a few Advil and a good night’s rest would have him all healed up. “You should be proud of me and Frankie. We really tried to have a heart-to-heart with those guys.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You lie your ass off.”

Billy smirked, turning to look at you. “You think about my ass a lot, don’t you sweetheart?”

Your cheeks flushed. “Shut up,” you looked away.

“Mm,” he was still looking at you, you could tell.

“I’m gonna finish this,” you said, resuming your activity but refusing to look him in the eye, “and then I’m going back to bed. You need to shower and rest.”

“That an invitation?” He pulled back, so you were forced to make eye contact. He was still grinning, but those dark eyes of his were gleaming with something other than humor.

You pushed the rag you were using into Billy’s hands. “For you to shower? It absolutely is.” You stood up and started towards your bedroom. “And you better be here when I wake up, soldier!”

His answering laugh warmed you to the core, and you were strong enough to admit—if only to yourself—that if Billy really wanted in your bed…you’d be more than happy to welcome him.

********

Billy was more pissed than you’d ever seen him before. You had taken him out for drinks and been having a great time before some guy grabbed your ass. Billy…did not react well. To say that he kicked that guy’s ass would be an understatement; the bar owner had to call the police, who had to restrain Billy to stop him from killing him. Luckily, no one pressed charges and the bartenders even attested to the fact that the guy had been inappropriate with you. The cops let Billy—a war hero and prominent businessman—off with a warning. Still, he was wound up. He drove you back to his place in complete, thick silence.

Billy almost tore the door off its hinges when you got to his penthouse. He slammed the door shut behind you so hard you could feel the walls shake. You stood by the door and watched him pace back and forth.

“Billy?” You asked, voice soft.

“Gimme a minute,” he growled back. His back was to you, and you could see how tense he was from the set in his shoulders.

“Okay…” You weren’t sure what to do—Billy was clearly still heated, and a part of you wanted to try to calm him down, but the other part wanted to respect his wishes. If he needed some time to cool down, you would give it to him. But the more you watched him stalk around his living room, the more concerned you got. His fists were clenched as he stomped around the room; at some point he’d shed his jacket and thrown it somewhere, and you couldn’t help but focus in on his arm muscles and the way his shoulders squared when he was angry.

He stopped suddenly and you heard him take a few deep breaths. His eyes were less stormy when he turned to look at you.

“Hey,” you said, raising your hand in greeting.

Billy sighed. “Shit,” he muttered. He put a hand through his shorn hair. “I didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“Wha—no, don’t be sorry. I’m not scared of you!”

“Then why are you all the way over there?” He asked. “I swear, I didn’t mean to lose my shit like that; I just saw that asshole with his hands on you and…” He took a shaky breath.

Your feet moved before you could even fully register his words. You launched yourself into Billy’s arms and let him engulf you in a hug. “That better?” You said into his chest.

You felt Billy’s answering chuckle more than heard it. “Much.” He tightened his hold on you. “This is how things should always be.”

“Yeah,” you ran your hands up and down his back and felt his body relax against you, “this is exactly how things should be.”

********

“So what’s up with you and Billy?” Frank asked.

You were at Frank’s and had a lap full of puppies when he—unprompted—brought up Billy. “Nothing’s up. Why do you think something’s up? Did Billy say something was up?”

Frank chuckled. “Not exactly.”

You frowned. Things were the same as always with you and Billy. True, the last time you had been alone together had been the night he got into that fight at the bar, and you spent at least half an hour just holding each other. Nothing happened, of course—but you felt like there had been some kind of small, almost imperceptible shift in your dynamic. Since that last night with Billy, you started to notice a difference in the way he looked at you, and you seemed even more aware and sensitive of his presence. Maybe Billy had felt the difference too and didn’t like it. What could be wrong? “Is…Is he mad at me?” You asked.

“At you? No way,” Frank shook his head, “Billy’s crazy about you. And you’re…?”

“Friends,” you answered automatically, “we’re friends.”

“Yeah, and what’s up with that? I thought you’d be together by now.”

“Why would you think that?” You nudged a puppy off your chest. “Did he say something?”

Frank rubbed the back of his neck. “Aw… I shouldn’t say anything but…” He glanced back at you, and you could only imagine what you looked like: eyes wide and unblinking. “Bill really cares about you, and he’s been trying to… He wants…” Frank grunted. “Shit, this really isn’t my place, Y/N.”

“But…” Your words were interrupted by the slamming of the front door. The puppies started barking and ran to greet the intruder.

Billy stomped into the room, unseeing, and punched the wall. The puppies scattered in all directions.

“Oh, hey, Bill,” Frank said calmly.

“Hey, Frank,” Billy replied. He turned, rubbing his now bloody knuckle and blinked when he noticed you on the floor. “Hey sweetheart, what are you doing here?”

“Meeting Frank’s grandkids,” you answered, cradling one of the scared puppies to your chest, “You okay, Billy?”

He rolled his neck, a sure sign that he was making an effort to calm himself. “Yeah, I just… It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“What happened?” You asked as Frank walked passed you, bent down to pick a pup up, and wander to the kitchen. He didn’t seem too concerned with what was going on with Billy.

Billy flexed his hand and sighed. “I ran into your ex.”

“Derek?”

He nodded. “We had…”

“A conversation?” You supplied.

“I didn’t hit him,” he said. You nodded, spurring him to go on. “I really, really wanted to, but I didn’t.”

“What did he say?” Derek was your most recent ex. He had not been fond of Billy, and the feeling was mutual. If you were honest, the only reason you had dated him for so long was because you wanted to get over your crush on Billy. Obviously, the attempt had been futile.

“Doesn’t matter,” Billy plopped down next to you and draped an arm around your shoulder. One of the braver puppies approached him, and Billy let it lick his injured hand. “Just know you deserve better than him.”

“She sure does,” Frank tossed a beer into Billy’s lap and handed another to you. “Actually, me and Y/N were just talking about that. She was saying how she’s ready to start dating again.” You opened your mouth to protest, but Frank shot you a look. “Asked me to introduce her to some of the guys I met when I was doing construction.”

Billy’s eyes were hard when you looked over at him. “Mm,” he took his arm from your shoulder and stood up. “I gotta go.” He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll see ya later, sweetheart.”

********

Later turned out to be that night. After Billy left, you tried to get Frank to spill the beans about whatever was going on with Billy, but he wouldn’t. You tried to figure it out on your way home, but you were at a loss. Frank had said Billy cared about you—which you knew—and implied that Billy wanted something from you? Had something to tell you? The idea that he had feelings for you ran through your head, but it was too good to be true and too ridiculous to entertain. You wanted to call him, but decided to wait until you got home first, give him a chance to collect his thoughts like you were collecting yours.

But when you got to your apartment, Billy was there.

He was leaning against the door, hands in his pockets. “Hey sweetheart.”

“Hey. I was just about to call you. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you, face to face, without an audience,” he said back, pushing himself off the door, “can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course,” you let him in, heart pounding. When you turned in the entryway of your apartment, you bumped into Billy’s broad chest. When had he gotten so close to you?

“I gotta say all this now, or I’m gonna bitch out again,” he said on a breath, “Y/N, I…” He licked his lips and started again. “I… Listen, I just need to… Shit,” he hissed, rolling his neck, “Damn it, why is this so—fuck!” He flung himself away from you and slapped his hand on the wall.

“Billy, calm down,” you put a hand on his shoulder, “What are you trying to say?”

You heard him take a couple of breaths before he spoke again, back still to you. “I’m trying to say… that I want to be with you,” he looked up, locking eyes with you. “I’ve wanted to for a long time.”

“Oh.” You felt yourself break out in a smile. “Oh. Okay. Cool.”

“’Cool’?” He repeated, turning to regard you with a smirk. “I’m gonna need more than that, sweetheart.”

You giggled. Your heart was beating so fast you were sure you were a second away from a heart attack, but you couldn’t help it. You were almost hysterical with glee. “I—are you serious? You want…You like me?”

“I like you,” he answered, pulling you into his side with an arm around your waist, “I wanted to tell you a long time ago, and then I was going to tell you tonight, but I was sure Frankie had already ruined it, but then he said you were thinking of dating again…”

“No,” you shook your head, still grinning, “I never said that, Frank was just spreading rumors like the mean girl he is.” You cuddled in closer to Billy. “This… I’ve wanted this, too.”

“Mm,” he put his bandaged hand on your face, caressing your cheek, “that’s what I hoped you’d say.”

When he kissed you, you could have died happy in that moment, wrapped up in his arms—bloodied knuckles and all.

********

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You narrowed your eyes, hands on your hips and a scowl on your face. You didn’t receive an answer, so you repeated the question. “What. The fuck. Did you just say to my boyfriend?”

The man blinked down at you, apparently surprised at the venom in your eyes. He had made the critical mistake of being rude to Billy in your presence, and you were ready to kick his ass. “Look, lady, I don’t need—”

“—I’ll tell you what you need,” you hissed, “you need to shut your damn mouth, turn around, and walk out of this bar before I make it so you can’t ever walk again.”

Billy put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you back towards him. “Take a breath, sweetheart,” he said easily.

You glared up at him. Behind him, Curtis was shaking his head and Frank was grinning from ear to ear.

“You need to put a muzzle on your bitch,” the man said, addressing Billy from over your head.

The easy smile on Billy’s face dissolved completely, and you wriggled out of his grasp and took a step back. You knew what was coming next. Billy swung and hit the guy right between the eyes. A spray of blood bloomed in the air before the guy hit the ground, screaming in pain. You smirked.

Billy turned back to you and pressed his lips against yours. You took his hand in yours and inspected the damage. You’d seen worse.

“One more round and then home?” He asked conversationally, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Mm,” you answered back, “let’s just skip the round and head straight home.”

He grinned.

It could be said that Billy had anger issues, was impulsive, quick to violence, and—while he looked as good as an angel, he definitely wasn’t one, but, when it was all said and done…

…the same could be said of you as well.

**********************************************************************************

Man, that took me an embarrassingly long amount of time to write...this... If you sent in requests, I’m still working on them so keep an eye out for those as well!

Pleassse let me know what you think, I strive on feedback.

Thanks for reading!

EDIT: I added this ******** to show a break in the text, since the line breaks don’t show up on mobile. :)

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo imagine #the punisher

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cherryhobis · 5 years

Text

see you next year ☆ min yoongi/reader

word count: 1479 ☆ gen rating ☆ ao3 mirror

Hello everybody! I’ve been pretty quiet today as I’ve been steadily chipping away at a birthday gift for the lovely @bloomsuga! I know it’s a little late, but I hope you like it all the same. Happy birthday, homie!

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It happens every year.

Every year, on this exact day, Min Yoongi finds himself in some godforsaken elevator, and in that elevator, he meets you. He’s gotten to know you somewhat, in the time he’s spent with you. You only gave him trivial things at first, like the type of weather you preferred and your favorite color, but eventually he learned that you’ve tried every flavor at Baskin-Robbins and why you’re not allowed to drive your friend’s car anymore.

You told him your stories and he told you his, each time with a bit less detail, if only to see what you’d fill into the blanks he’d left you. You remembered something once. Red. The color of his shirt when he’d snagged the answers to a quiz from his teacher’s desk in middle school. It was a lame story, and Yoongi got caught at the end, but he told you that one for a while because you laughed lightheartedly at his plight and left the exchange with a smile on your face.

He’s on the elevator early today, leaning against the railing with the buttons in arm’s reach. Phone in hand and mask pulled beneath his chin, Yoongi waits patiently for you to arrive in the place you’re both so destined to meet. Or rather, he waits as patiently as he can. You’re not due for another five minutes and he’s already ridden to every floor twice. As it turns out, the novelty of having pressed every button wears off by the third floor, but by the time Yoongi had realized that, he figured he may as well accept his fate.

It’s 3:30 on the nose when you show up, searching through an open backpack slung awkwardly over your shoulder with your phone hovering above it as a flashlight. You’re sporting that tired-but-not-willing-to-show-it look he’s come to expect from you, though today you’re wearing it exceptionally well in the form of blue jeans and a lightweight hoodie.

And, you’re wearing the button he gave you.

“Top floor, please,” you say to him as you board, finding whatever it was you were looking for and placing it into a pocket at the front of your bag.

Yoongi looks at you, observing you for just a moment, before pressing the button.

There’s a round button pinned to your chest, the pearlescent blue shimmering against the pink fabric it rests upon. He notes it’s the same one he gave you a few cycles ago, right down to the teeny bit of sticker residue at the edge that you never bothered getting rid of.

It’s a few years old now, with faint wear and tear etched into its surface, but it undoubtedly looks brand new to you. It always does.

“Happy birthday,” he tells you, tapping his chest referentially when you look at him with mild concern. Yoongi remembers not-so-fondly the year when his well wishes had scared you out of your wits—you’d armed yourself with a ballpoint pen and told him you weren’t afraid to use it. The year after that, he said nothing of the sort and bade you a good day, but he left you with a single breadcrumb the year after: the birthday button.

“Thanks, Yoongi.” You respond, catching him quite off guard. Ice runs through his veins at the sound of his name – when did you start remembering? You’re usually bouncy, or distracted, but now you’re smug, almost, and you know who he is.

You tilt your head at him, ponytail swaying slightly in its scrunchie. “How long have I known you?”

Correction: you sort of know who he is.

It takes a bit of convincing that he’s neither crazy nor stalking you, but eventually Yoongi whittles down your encounters into barebones detail that you accept with a steady nod. From what you can remember – and it’s very little – you once tried breaking the loop by leaving your phone with him, but despite your careful assurance that he’d had it tucked away, it somehow reappeared in your pocket once the two of you separated. It was frustrating for both you and him, though your feelings registered as more of a dull throb of forgetfulness than the roaring upset Yoongi had felt.

“I remember every single time I’ve met you,” he tells you. “It was ridiculously humid one year and you’d spent half the ride up trying to brush it into submission.”

Something about his story feels familiar enough to laugh at – something about not having a hair tie the whole time? – So you do, and the sound makes Yoongi regard you with a measured softness.

You decide you like how it feels.

It’s after a hard think that you come up with a solution, excited and childlike as you fish out your phone. “Gimme your number! I’ll call you once I get off and this should all be over, yeah?” hope tints your voice and it’s almost too much for Yoongi to handle.

“Can’t.” he says, stretching a sudden tension from his muscles. The black of his t-shirt rides up a little as he does, revealing a little sliver of tummy that’s got you biting back a grin. “We’ve tried. It’s like some weird eraser passes over you as soon as you leave this damn thing.” You flick your gaze up to find his eyes trained on you, a knowing smirk at the corner of his lip.

Embarrassment hues your cheeks, but instead of addressing whatever moment the two of you had, you reroute to the dilemma at hand. Your floor’s just a few stops away.

“Question.”

“Answer.”

“Have we ever tried the emergency stop?”

Yoongi’s smirk morphs into a pensive expression, before finally falling into a surprised little ‘o’. “No,” he says in pure surprise. “No we have not.” Though you laugh, you gesture somewhat impatiently to the elevator panel. You’ve only got so much time.

Quickly, and with probably a little too much force, Yoongi slams his thumb into the emergency stop and steels himself as the elevator whines its way into a slow, squeaky stop. Wincing through the noise, you wonder halfheartedly if one of you is destined to grease the mechanisms, and if the weird time warp is punishment for shirking your duties – a ridiculous notion you find yourself making a mental note of to bring up later.

“So.” Yoongi says, turning to you. “What now?”

You shrug, slipping your bag off your shoulders and sitting cross-legged on the floor. “We wait. What time do I usually leave?”

Yoongi joins you on the floor, back against the wall. “Around 3:45. It’s a slow elevator.”

You check the time with a quick glance at your phone, worrying your lip after. “It’s almost four o’clock. That’s… that’s a good sign, right?”

Yoongi nods, idly mussing up his hair. “I’d say so. How long you wanna stay in here? My calendar’s all clear for today.” Like it always is.

“Maybe a couple hours, just to be on the safe side. I wanna remember you for real this time.”

“Ditto. I mean, I already remember all the stuff you’ve told me, but like. I’d like you to know I exist.”

“I getcha. We should go out after. Grab a bite to eat or somethin’.”

Yoongi quirks a brow. “You mean like a date?”

“As a matter of fact, Min Yoongi, it’s my birthday,” you say, gesturing dramatically to the button adorning your hoodie. “I’d like to go out and celebrate. But, if your birthday gift for me happens to be a date, I wouldn’t object.”

The way you’re batting your eyes at him can only be interpreted as humorous, but regardless, Yoongi finds his heart skipping a beat. “Where would you want to go? Hypothetically speaking.”

You waste no time in responding. “Hypothetically? Home. I just want a big bowl of cereal and a nap. You’re more than welcome to come over and nap with me. I’ve got really cozy blankets.”

Yoongi pouts a bit, mulling the offer over. He’d never really planned that you’d get this far. “A nap sounds nice. But be warned, I talk in my sleep.”

“I can handle that.”

Nervousness keeps you there as six o’clock turns into seven, and as seven blurs into midnight. You’re tired, and your muscles ache like hell from being in such a confined space, but you will the feeling back into your limbs just long enough to carry you to bed.

It’s a long bus ride home, but Yoongi embarks on the journey with you, and he carries your backpack for you on the short walk to your building.

Inside, you kick off your shoes and direct him to your bedroom, neither of you bothering to shuck off your jeans before you climb into bed.

In the morning, you will see if he’s still there.

In the morning, you wake up in his arms.

#bts #bts au #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #bts x reader #bts x you #yoongi #taehyung #jungkook #*mine #*writing #*my writing

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gureishi · 3 years

Text

One more DM-ed request! I’ll open up requests ~for real~ tonight or tomorrow, hooray~

A lovely friend who wants to stay anonymous requested a fic about Saeyoung buying condoms before the famous “evidence that I existed scene” in his AE. And honestly I am OBSESSED with the idea and I cackled more than once while writing this. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, dear! ♡

ready

SaeyoungXReader, T...? (no sex actually occurs in this but you know what the prompt is so do with that what you will). Words: 1874

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

“Um…Saeyoung? Are we stopping?”

You’re curled into the passenger seat of Saeyoung’s car, his phone in your hand as you keep an eye on the incredibly complex GPS map he’s designed. You’ve been starting to fall into a reverie, lulled into a sense of near-comfort by the constant speed of the car and the sight of his hands on the steering wheel and the soothing, salty-sweet smell of him that clings to the sweater draped over your shoulders and the leather upholstery of the seat.

But when the car, which has been cruising along at a frankly alarming speed, starts to slow, you’re startled out of your half-slumber.

You push yourself up in the seat, gazing at him curiously. You’re surprised to find a light flush coloring his cheeks.

“Saeyoung?" you repeat, made more curious by his strange expression. His hand twitches, as if he meant to reach over and rest it on your thigh—as he’s done periodically throughout the day—but then thought better of it.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, starting pointedly straight ahead at the dirt road he’s turned onto.

You notice him self-consciously take his left hand from the wheel and run it through his tousled hair. It’s a nervous habit of his—even after living with him for just a short time, you’ve found yourself particularly well-attuned to all his quirks.

“Is something wrong?” you ask. You sit up straight now, peering through the windshield. The sun is starting to set, but it’s too early to stop for the night.

“Huh? No, that’s not—no.” Finally, he does touch you, letting one hand drift over to brush against your waist. It sends tingles up and down your spine.

You remember the way he kissed you that morning, before starting to drive for the day—his lips soft and earnest, his clumsy kisses growing more desperate as he pressed his body flush against yours. He always touches you this way—hesitant at first, always afraid it will be too much for you, too much for him—then more forcefully, as if he’s battling with his restraint and losing.

You remember the way he looked at you this afternoon when he thought you were sleeping in the passenger seat, the little moan that escaped his throat when you leaned over and nipped at his earlobe…

“We’re just making a, uhh—quick stop,” he stutters, tugging you back to reality.

You bite your lip, willing away the heat that’s begun to build within you.

Right. Get it together.

We’re on a rescue mission, not a sex vacation.

Your own cheeks color at the thought.

Not that we’ve—not that he’d want to—

Saeyoung turns the car abruptly and pulls into a parking lot you hadn’t even seen coming.

“That came out of nowhere!” you say, startled by the sudden intrusion of civilization. It has just been the two of you for so many hours—so many days—that you’ve almost forgotten about the world that has other people in it.

He taps the side of his head, grinning impishly. “A spaceman always knows where to find fuel,” he says. When you roll your eyes, he adds, “Plus, it was on the GPS.”

You laugh, and are relieved to find you can. Somehow, even knowing where you’re going, and what awaits you there—it’s easy to laugh, with Saeyoung beside you.

“Stretch your legs for a bit,” he says, putting the car in park. His red sports car is definitely conspicuous in the empty parking lot, in front of what seems to be a run-down convenience store. “I’ll be right back. He hops out of the car, moving with surprising ease for someone who’s been sitting and driving for hours. But you’re used to it by now—the stark contrast between the hacker who can sit still for days at a time and the agent who can spring into action at a millisecond’s notice. That’s just Saeyoung, you think, not without a touch of pride.

You open your own door, thinking to take him up on his suggestion to stretch and get some fresh air. Luxury car it may be, but it’s still not designed for an entire day of sitting—and you’re not one for sitting still to begin with. You lift your arms above your head, enjoying the way the cool evening air tickles your sides. Saeyoung is already off—you watch his distinctive red head bobbing off in the direction of the convenience store.

A convenience store…

Your curiosity returns. The two of you have enough food packed for several more days, including plenty of snacks. The schedule you’ve been keeping in order to catch up to Saeran and Vanderwood doesn’t generally allow for lots of mid-day breaks. You can’t think of any supplies you need that you don’t already have.

You ponder his blush, his awkwardness. Secrets are right up Saeyoung’s alley, but now—he’s been so honest with you recently, so upfront. He doesn’t have anything left to hide. So why…?

Curiosity getting the better of you, you stride toward the store, keeping your footsteps light. Secret agent he may be, but if anyone can sneak up on him, it’s definitely you—all the times you managed to startle him back at the apartment were proof enough of that.

The convenience store isn’t much to look at: the windows are dirty and adorned with half-peeled posters advertising out-of-date discounts. You press yourself against one of these, peering through the smudged class. You can just make out his messy red hair moving through the aisles, pausing in one. You watch him deliberate, pacing back and forth.

For a moment, you consider following him into the store—but he’d surely hear you then, and it’d be just like him to abandon whatever quest he’s on out of embarrassment. No: snooping from outside is certainly the best way.

After what feels like several minutes of hesitation, he suddenly grabs something from a shelf and makes his way to the register. Your curiosity intensifies. What could he possibly feel so uncomfortable buying…?

…

Oh.

OH.

Your face flushes bright red. It couldn’t be. And yet… Your toes tingle.

You’re so carried away by your own thoughts that you’re taken totally aback when something warm presses against you from behind, long fingers curling around your waist.

“Eep!” you squeal, startling and nearly hitting your head on the glass window. His other hand instantly slides to your forehead, protecting you. “S-Saeyoung?”

He spins you around and suddenly you’re nose to nose, your back against the convenience store window, your body feeling feverish in his arms.

There’s a pause in which the expression in his golden eyes is so intense you find yourself speechless. Then he grins.

“Spying, are we?” he teases, lifting a finger to gently tap your nose.

“You were being suspicious!” you counter, glaring into his molten eyes. It’s his turn to flush.

“I’m a hacker. Being suspicious is kind of my whole thing,” he says, and winks. You notice he hasn’t moved a muscle—his arms are still around your waist, one hand on the small of your back, almost grazing your butt. You find yourself frantically wishing he’d lower it, wishing he’d squeeze your butt and then press you harder into the glass, biting your neck and—

Ahhhh.

“Gimme that bag!” you cry, taking even yourself by surprise. You disentangle yourself from him abruptly, reaching for his back pocket where you know he’s stuffed the bag from the store. Once again, a few days of living together has given you enough clues—you know where he puts things so you won’t take them. But you’re bolder now.

“Noooo!” he yelps, taking off across the parking lot. You laugh, sprinting after him.

“Saeyoung Choi! Give me that bag!” You’re pretty fast, but he’s much faster. He darts into the tall grass that surrounds the parking lot. You know you can’t catch him—but you do have a secret weapon. It may not be fair—but all’s fair in love and war, you think stubbornly.

“Ow!” you yell, plopping down on the concrete.

He’s on you in an instant, all pretense of the chase forgotten, on his knees before you can even register what’s happened. His eyes are dark as he scans your body frantically for any sign that you are hurt. You almost feel guilty. Almost.

“What’s wrong?”

He brushes his hand up your leg, searching for an injury that isn’t there.

“Ha!” In one motion, you reach behind him, grazing his butt as you pull the plastic bag from his pocket. “Hahaha!” you sing again as you turn the bag upside down, spilling out the contents before he has a chance to snatch it back.

“Whaaaaat? You—” Saeyoung gasps. His hand shoots out and you tackle him, knowing he won’t resist you as you tumble onto his chest. He wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your hair. You twist sideways and can just make out the box on the ground beside you.

Ah-ha.

Abruptly, Saeyoung sits up and gently lifts you off him—all while trying to sneakily sweep his purchase into the safety of his hoodie.

But it’s too late.

You’re a little embarrassed, a little guilty for tricking him—but most of all, there’s a distinct feeling of satisfaction that settles in your heart.

“Saeyoung, you bought…?”

He turns to you, and his cheeks are as red as you imagine your own to be.

“Did you see?” he mutters, eyes downcast. You nod. “I-it’s not…!” He meets your eyes, and he’s so earnest, so awkward, so delightfully scared, that you can’t help but take pity on him. “I-it’s not that I was assuming anything, o-or even hoping, I mean, I wouldn’t even think to…!”

You have to stop him then, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. You feel the heat radiating off him, and all his muscles are tense with anxiety. You cup his cheek with one hand and deepen the kiss; he melts into you.

When you pull away, your breath is coming quickly, and you can feel his heart pounding through his hoodie.

“It’s okay if you were assuming,” you say softly.

He splutters for a moment, cheeks hot, pupils blown.

His hand tightly clutches the box of condoms concealed in his jacket.

“I-I really wasn’t… I didn’t mean to…” He catches his breath. “Just in case,” he whispers.

You feel the grin spreading across your face. You put a hand on his chest, right over his rapidly beating heart. His fingers ghost over your shoulder and neck, tentatively, questioningly. You press another firm kiss to his lips.

“Just in case,” you repeat.

You know you’ve got to get back in the car, got to drive till after the sun has set, got to watch the little dot on his makeshift tracking devise until your eyes get tired. But eventually, you’ll stop. Eventually, you’ll rest. You’ll spend the night together. And when you do—

“I wanted us to be ready for anything,” he whispers against your lips, more confidently than before.

“Yeah,” you say. “And we are.”

#mystic messenger #mysticmessenger #mysme #mm #request #gureishi writes requests #saeyoung choi #707 #saeyoungxreader #707xreader #anon request #now that i'm thinking about this scenario i can't stop thinking about it #and giggling #because omg #sweet awkward baby seven <3

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