#like okay you're an adult that makes their own decisions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

botnasty · 2 months

Text

The Missing Link

Pornstar!Bucky Barnes X Director!Reader

Words: 2.2k words

Warnings: Smut (Duh), lill past trauma, but sweet ass bucky.

Note: I am getting rid of some of my draft and this was part of it.

Main Masterlist

“Where is she? She was the one who begged to do a shoot with him!” It was almost chaos in the house you rented. Everyone was ready for today; the cameras were set up, Bucky Barnes, aka The White Wolf as the porn industry calls him, was in the back getting ready with his fluffer. Everything was set and ready, except for his co-star. She was the one who approached you in the first place, Bucky’s manager, to do this shoot with him. She had begged you for months to be able to do a video with him, and the moment it was supposed to happen, she disappeared.

“Did you contact her manager?” asked one of the cameramen. You almost wanted to roll your eyes. “Of course I did, John. What do you think I’ve been doing all this time? He says he can’t contact her either. She is completely AWOL.” Your hands were almost shaking. You couldn’t just ask everyone who came; unfortunately, they weren’t needed... And Bucky, you made him come out here on his day off. You couldn’t just tell him it was all for nothing.

“Think, think.” You said to yourself as you kept on pacing in the white hallway that led to the bedroom where the shooting was supposed to happen – hopefully. What did your own manager do when you were a pornstar? You sighed and leaned against the wall. He would have done nothing, since he was a sack of shit who literally stole money from you, which was the reason you left being a porn star to become a manager yourself.

Years ago, being a pornstar was some of the worst times of your life. The lack of respect and regulation in the industry made it hard for anyone to truly enjoy what they did. It was a world where exploitation lurked behind the glamor, where your worth was often measured by your ability to perform on camera rather than your humanity.

But now, times have changed. The industry has evolved, becoming more professional and respectful of its performers. Your own experiences in the past have shaped the way you approach your current role as a manager. You left behind the world of adult entertainment, partly because of the exploitation you faced, but also because of a manager who took advantage of you, stealing money and betraying your trust.

Despite the challenges you faced, you've found a way to navigate the industry with integrity. Your decision to step back into a role you thought you had left behind speaks to your dedication to ensuring the success of this shoot. You're willing to do what it takes to make sure everything goes smoothly, even if it means revisiting a past you'd rather forget.

“Boss, you okay?” You jumped back to see Bucky out of the room that was assigned to his dressing room. He had no shirt on, only a pair of jeans, which was how he was supposed to be in the scene. “Yeah, all is good, but I think you heard about the problem.”

“She still hasn’t shown up?” He tossed his hair back with his hand. “Well, this complicates things… Maybe I could do a solo shoot? It could be a solution,” he grinned, "because I do not think any random co-star will pop out of nowhere.”

You walked closer to him and looked up into his eyes. “You could, but there is also another solution, only if you are comfortable with it…”

It’s like he knew exactly what you were talking about because his eyes widened. “You would do that? But wasn’t your experience in the past something you told me you never would’ve wanted to do again?”

You looked at the time on your phone. “I know, but it would be necessary. We are on contract, and the agency wants a full video, not just a solo one.” You tried your best to keep your voice steady. You trusted Bucky; you knew him ever since he was an amateur in the porn industry, and you knew how he was with all his co-stars. He always tried to make them comfortable, get to know them a little so that when the camera rolled, everything went smoothly.

“You would trust me with that?” He scratched his pec and leaned closer to you as you nodded. “Okay, and I am comfortable doing that with you too, but if at any time, it gets too much, we stop, and I do not care what the agency says. It’s not our fault she didn’t show up.” His eyes went back and forth between yours. “Are we clear?” You wanted to laugh. You were the manager here; you were supposed to be the one comforting and all that, but here he was doing that to you.

“Yeah, big guy, I guess it’s time for me to go get ready. I'll tell everyone it’s almost ‘go’ time. And you,” you pointed at him, “Go back to your fluffer and get ready.” You said with a smile.

He smiled back. “Oh, I do not think I’ll need one for this shoot.”

After the decision is made for you to step in as Bucky's co-star, the atmosphere on set shifts. The initial tension and uncertainty give way to a focused determination to make the best of the situation. As you both prepare for the scene, there's a sense of mutual respect and understanding between you and Bucky, forged through years of working in the industry.

As the cameras start rolling, the room falls into a hushed anticipation, a quiet reverence for the performance about to unfold. You and Bucky stand facing each other, the air thick with tension and unspoken words. The set fades away, and it's just the two of you, locked in a moment that feels both intimate and exhilarating.

Bucky's touch is like fire against your skin, igniting a passion that burns brightly between you. His eyes are intense, filled with a hunger that mirrors your own. Your head is all over the place as to what is about to unfold. You can feel the heat of his body radiating against yours, heightening every sensation, every touch.

"You ready?" Bucky's voice is a low growl, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. His fingers start stroking the skin on your arms.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "More than ready."

He grins, “Well then, let’s start this.” He grabbed your head in his big hands and kissed you on the lips. Never in your life would you have ever thought of being on the receiving end of Bucky Barnes. You had always guiltily imagined it: being his co-star. Your arm traveled around his neck as your other hand explored his tone body. He was so firm at all the right places. You wanted to smirk when you heard him growl as you reached lower and lower.

Suddenly, before you could even reach his bulge, he let go of you. “Get on your knees, baby. Come on.” He let you slide down on your knee as he held to your hair. “Get in out for me.”

“I happily will.” You couldn’t help but say. You licked your lips when you saw a glimpse of the head poking out from the top of his boxer. He was so big, you were already salivating at the thought of having him in your mouth.

As you pulled down the boxers, his dick springs out, the tip so red it looked uncomfortable. You placed your hands on his thighs and let a drool of spit land on the tip. It’s so thick you couldn’t help but think. You wrapped your hand around the base and you heard his breath hitch. You looked up at him and saw his eyes were dark with desire. “Fuck my face, big guy.” Was the last thing you said before he took your head in his hands and pushed his dick deep inside your mouth, almost choking you. He must have realized his mistake because he asked you: “If it’s too much, tap my thigh twice.” You never did.

His dick was so heavy in your mouth, so hot. You had never liked sucking your co-star’s dick before, but his dick was now part of the exception. Hesitantly, he let out a low groan, shutting his eyes tightly as he gripped onto your hair even more tightly. His free hand went instinctively towards his chest- covering his heart that was now racing wildly.”Fucking hell, baby. You have such a wet mouth. It feels so good.”

His head fell back slightly, letting out a shaky exhale." Jesus fucking Christ." He muttered, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. A small smile appeared on his lips though as he opened them again.”Squeeze my balls, baby. Grab them in your hands.” As you did a loud groan left his mouth and he suddenly pulled out.

“I was about to cum, baby. Oh, fuck.” You smirked.

“Oh really? And here I thought the big bad wolf had more in him.” You taunted him. You saw a big smirk appear on his face. “Oh, you asked for it baby.” He grabbed you suddenly, a little gasp leaving your mouth, and threw you on the bed.

“Touch yourself. I want to see what you do when you think of my dick every night.” Slowly you brought your hands to your tits, your fingers twisting your nipples as you looked straight in his eyes. You saw him swallowed thickly, still staring at you with an unreadable expression. For a moment, it’s like he was simply watching you – taking in every detail of your appearance, committing it to memory.

With one last pinch you brought your hand to your clit, never in your life had you been this wet in a shoot. Always, before, the guy needed to use lube with you, but this time, you could feel some wetness dripping down your thighs and also down your ass. It had been such a long time since you’ve felt pleasure at all.

He got on top of you, hid dick in his hand. "I’m going to fuck you so hard, baby.” He said loud enough for the camera to pick it up, but in your ears he whispered: “You okay?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

You smile, a mix of gratitude and admiration in your gaze. "I'm perfect. You're amazing."

He pecked your lips. “I’m gonna put it in…” He slapped his dick twice against your clip, making you jolt with a moan. The tip of his dick gently breached your opening and already you felt full. He was so big. You placed a hand on his lower back and bit on his neck as he went deeper. “OH, fuck. So fucking tight.”

Your hands grabbed whatever you could have he trusted deep inside of you. The wet sound of sex vibrating in the air, as he kept going. He growled. “I fucking love your pussy.” He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer as he went on his knees. “How come you hid this from me, huh?” You could feel all the ridges of his dick, how veiny it was and the tip always brushing your sweet spot inside in this position.

You grabbed one of his hands and tried to bring it to your clit. “Please, please, please.” Once he understood, he started rubbing your clit with his thumb as he forced his dic depper in you. Everything was too much.

You let out a moan and tossed your head back, your legs were shaking all over the place. “I can feel you tightening, baby. Are you gonna cum like a good slut on my dick? You are, aren't you.” You tried to nod, but to no avail. Your body was just completely shaking, before you let out a loud moan and you felt your pussy tighten around him. Somehow this was enough to make Bucky Barnes, the man you knew could last for hours, to cum in you. He groaned and moaned as he kept on doing little thrust in you, making all of his cum pooling inside of you just as he fell down on you. Both sweaty bodies against each other and heavy breath mingling.

The room seems to pulse with a shared energy, a connection between you and Bucky that transcends the physical. When the director finally calls "cut," there's a moment of stillness, as if everyone is caught in the spell you've woven.

"You were incredible," Bucky says, his voice filled with genuine admiration and he kissed your cheek. "I couldn't have asked for a better co-star. Maybe we should do this again sometime"

You smile, feeling a sense of pride wash over you, a sense of reborn. "You weren't so bad yourself.”

Thank you so much for reading! PLease do not hesitate to let me know what y'all think:)

299 notes · View notes

potatobugxo · 2 months

Note

I saw that you write for Hazbin Hotel, and i thought maybe you could write Velvette daiting Carmillas youngest daughter! reader???

sure thing <3 this turned out way longer than i thought it would hehe

warnings: death threats(?) (carmilla threatens velvette lol)

❣️velvette x carmilla's youngest daughter!reader hcs❣️

-uh oh -you met velvette at one of the overlord meetings. she usually comes in place of vox and valentino and always has more than enough to say about her thoughts on whatever matter carmilla has gathered the other overlords about -you usually sit beside your mother and don't speak much unless necessary -the first time velvette attended one of the meetings you were just... awestruck -her confidence and sass enticed you even if she was throwing absolute shade at your mother lol -velvette isn't stupid, she caught on to you staring at her and would make her rounds around the table just to get dangerously close to your chair and subtly flirt with you -carmilla was NOT having it and dismissed the meeting early before she ripped velvette's head from her shoulders -too late though you were in love teehee -your mother warned you how dangerous the V's were and why not to get involved with them under any circumstance -so being the sheltered demon you are you didn't try to reach out to velvette in any way

-but don't worry she reached out to you <3 -you had caught her eye as well, the polite well mannered thing you were and the way you blushed whenever she spoke to you was just too adorable not to pursue you -velvette finds you on social media and immediately begins chatting with you -at first her pursuing you is mainly to get under carmilla's skin as an act of spite and powerplay, however when she gets to know you more she, dare she admit it, develops feelings for you -velvette knows the other two vees are morons so she doesn't let you get involved with them -likes to keep her precious lil diamond away from the problematic moth and tv thank you very much -will buy you every article of clothing in pentagram city if you so wish for it, her treat even though she knows damn well you can afford to pay for your own stuff she just likes to spoil you <3

-you're her lil princess okay she's obsessed with you <33

-you actually do a pretty good job of keeping your relationship secret from carmilla at least for a time

-but we all know velvette is a social media junkie, and there was no way she WASN'T going to share you and her being adorable on her page

-when velvette's selfies of the two of you reach carmilla's feed (if she even buys into social media??) well you're gonna have a very angry momma on your hands -she's seething with rage aimed toward velvette, not you, as she's convinced velvette manipulated you into this

-but you reassure her that spending time with velvette makes you happy, you're a full grown adult you can make your own decisions -meanwhile velvette is just smirking with pride at carmilla from behind you lmaoo -once carmilla begrudgingly accepts your relationship, she warns velvette that if she ever broke your heart she'd tear out hers

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette x reader #hcs #bugwrites

228 notes · View notes

jae-bummer · 1 year

Text

Let Me Take Care of You

Request: Hiii can i request a Chan fic Where reader accidentally raises her voice at him while she’s frustrated with uni work or something and he gets really hurt and kinda puts her in her place (respectfully of course) and makes her realize that she was wrong and later she apologizes and they make up 🤭

Pairing: Stray Kids Bang Chan x Reader

Genre: Angst (with a happy ending)

Your finger tapped helplessly on the down arrow of your keyboard as you looked to the bottom of the discussion question and then back up to read the initial prompt. A familiar hollow feeling nestled itself just behind your ribcage and its mere presence made your brain start to spin. You could hardly even read the question anymore, let alone answer it. The panic spiral had already begun, and you knew there was nothing left to do but ride it out.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you flipped to a new page in your notebook and began scribbling. Maybe if you could start some sort of thought process on paper, you'd find your way to an answer.

It was hard to ignore Chan's presence as he stared just over his own computer screen in your direction. The two of you often worked in tandem, you on classwork and he on genius producer things. Taking his headphones off and setting them around his neck, he focused solely on you. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," you ground out. You obviously weren't annoyed with him, but by simply addressing you, he had caused your sensitivities to prickle. In situations like this, it was best if no one talked to you and just let you handle your own feelings. You were like a powder keg waiting for anything even slightly flammable to set you off.

Chan nodded to himself and bit his lip. "Want to take a break and grab some lunch?"

You knew he was trying to diffuse the tension coursing through your mind in his own little Chan way. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough to soften your bad mood.

"I can't even begin to tell you want I want to eat," you huffed. Your mind switched from the homework question and quickly flipped through your mental rolodex of dining options. Nothing sounded especially appetizing.

"We can get anything you want," he said with a sweet smile. He was trying to accommodate you, but all your brain could scream about was the thought of making another decision.

"Why can't you decide?" you muttered, switching back to your problem and beginning to scribble again.

"Okay," he hummed, looking toward the ceiling in thought. "Sushi? Ramen? I could get those little sausage things you like from-"

"You know what," you sighed, looking up at him briefly. "Why don't you just grab something? I'll eat when I'm feeling up to it."

"Y/N," he said quietly, obviously disappointed in your response. "You have to eat something. That's likely most of your problem right now."

"I don't have a problem," you huffed.

He was right. You definitely had a problem, and that wasn't even including the problem with your attitude.

"You know what I mean," he cooed. "You're hungry and overworked. You need a break."

"Is it that easy to say to others but not yourself?" you said quickly. Chan was just as bad when it came to his own needs.

He remained silent, narrowing his eyes at you. You could see him talking himself down before he tried again. "School is really stressful for you right now. I just want to help."

"Take care of yourself for once!" you said abruptly. The anger had reached a numbing level. All you wanted was to lash out and get him to leave you alone. "I don't need to be babysat. Last time I checked, I'm an adult."

"Then maybe you should start acting like it, yeah?" Chan snapped back. His words felt like a bucket of ice water thrown at your face. You instantly looked up, caught off guard by his well-hidden temper.

His eyebrows were furrowed, head tilted slightly, and his mouth made a thin line. It wasn't often that you saw him irritated with you, but when he was, it knocked something loose in your chest.

Trying your hardest not to cry at the situation you had orchestrated, you decided it was safer to look back down at your notebook. "I am acting like it. It's my responsibility to get this done and it has to come first."

"Wrong," he chuckled indignantly. "You come first. Always. Anything else can catch up."

"Do you even hear yourself when you speak?" you gasped. "You are literally the worst person in the world to give me this advice."

He lifted his brows. "I can admit to that, but at least I don't take out my frustrations on people just trying to help."

"You can't help, Chris," you hissed. "So maybe it's time for you to leave."

You regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. Chan let out a little huff of disbelief before springing quickly to his feet. Licking his lips, he stared you down. "If that's what you want."

Rather than accepting defeat and starting your groveling, you stared back. Chan smiled bitterly before beginning to pack away his laptop. After several minutes of tense silence, he finally swung his bag over his shoulder and levelled you with a look. Without another word, he walked toward the door and quietly let himself out.

"Overbearing," you clucked to yourself, trying to validate your words. "I have one father already; I don't need another."

You looked back helplessly to your computer screen and your vision immediately began to swim.

"Why did I do that?"

Letting a few hiccups bubble out of your mouth, you finally submitted to the tears trying to escape your eyes. You had really made a mess out of that one, hadn't you?

You knew that even if Chan was mad at you, he'd still pick up when you called. You wanted to actually apologize in person though, so first, you had to allow yourself to calm down. It was time to abandon the schoolwork at the table and take a long shower to clear your thoughts. Once that was complete, the next step of your plan was to actually attain food and use it as a peace offering.

After picking up a few things at several food places, you made your way toward the JYP building. Knowing him, he was probably locked away, pouring his emotions out into a song. He tended to be a recluse in general when it came to his music, let alone when you had given him a reason to want to escape.

Trudging up the steps and through the door, you went through security clearance before making your way into the elevator. Your palms were growing more and more sweaty, and you tried to think of a good starting point for your penance.

Before coming up with anything that was any good, the elevator doors were already sliding open and spitting you out where you needed to be. Taking a deep breath, you slowly made your way toward the familiar fogged glass of Chan's studio. Knocking lightly on the door, you waited only a few seconds before he pulled it open. His expression was still icy as he shifted his attention from you to the bags in your hands. "What's this?"

"Food," you cringed. "Can I come in?"

Giving a curt nod, he stepped backwards and cleared a path for you. He shut the door after you walked through and leaned against it, simply watching as you began to pull things out of bags.

"I got the rice cakes-" you started, but immediately paused as you looked in his direction. You expected to find some type of warmth in his eyes, but he was still very obviously mad.

You shouldn't have been surprised. Ignoring the issue wasn't going to get you anywhere.

"Chris," you began, standing up straight and wandering a little closer to him. You nervously shuffled your weight from one foot to the other. "I wanted to say...I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

That stung, but you deserved it.

"I said so many things that I didn't really mean," you said quietly, feeling those traitorous tears begin to gather again. "Well, I did mean some of them, but not in the way they came out."

He lifted his brows, remaining silent.

"You taking care of yourself is something really important to me too. It wasn't kind or helpful to throw your own challenges back in your face," you whispered. "I know you said it all out of concern for my well-being and I was just an overstimulated ass trying to let out the pressure of my own frustration."

Chan nodded, still not offering up a word. You would wait as long as he needed to formulate a response. Instead, you were surprised as he sprung toward you and crushed you in his arms. Letting out a light squeak, you grabbed for purchase.

"Thank God," he whispered into your hair.

"For?" you croaked. He was squeezing the air out of you, but it would be a content death if it were to happen.

"I really couldn't stand the thought of being upset with you any longer," he groaned. Kissing the top of your head, he then leaned back so he could look into your eyes. "I hate it when we fight."

"This one was all my bad," you sighed. "I'm sorry."

"And I'm sorry for escalating it when I could have just left it alone," he nodded, a sad smile on his face. "But you have to know something, baby. I'm always going to protect you, even if it's from yourself."

You leaned your forehead against his chest and sniffed. You didn't know what you had done to deserve him, but you must have been a martyr in your past life.

"Hey," he cooed, stepping backwards. He lifted your chin so you would look at him. "It's okay. We're okay."

"You promise?" you questioned, already knowing the answer.

"I promise," he smiled easily.

It didn't take much to close the gap and plant your lips over Chan's. His arms already wrapped around your waist tugged you closer, making your chest flush against his. He reached up, clutching the side of your face in one hand. Pulling away what could only have been a few centimeters, he whispered against your lips "Just let me take care of you next time, yeah?"

You nodded, pressing another kiss to his mouth. You could feel the smile behind his lips as he continued to kiss you back, really driving home just how okay you both were. When it came to making you feel comfortable again, you were pretty certain that Chan would kiss you until the end of time.

"Aren't you hungry?" you finally managed in between shared breaths. You weren't sure why that was your chief concern when you had a whole Bang Chan in your grip.

"Respectfully," he grinned. "I'll eat when I'm feeling up to it."

"Jerk," you laughed, slapping playfully at his chest.

"I'm not done," he purred, kissing the corner of your mouth. "But let's eat, then we can worry about all of the making up we have left to do."

1K notes · View notes

s4no · 8 months

Text

+ feat: ken ryuuguji x fem!reader

+ cw: sex work (draken is an escort), virginity loss, oral (r), ptv, size difference

+ summary: after years of failed attempts at losing your virginity, you decide to take matters into your own hands and buy a night with the most expensive male escort tokyo has to offer. (5.4k words)

+ a/n: i decided to rewrite one of my old fics so if you recognize the title and/or plot, it's from my archived account; written in the adult timeline

Your nerves are in shambles as you approach the unfamiliar building. Your legs feel weak and your fingers clutch your wallet tightly, as if you suspect someone may try to mug you and steal it. For all that you know, it's possible. You’ve never been in this part of town before and you're grateful you haven't run into anybody you know. You’d definitely get questioned if someone saw you walking down the main street of Tokyo's Red Light District. Or more specifically, into a brothel.

It isn’t like you're out here on a whim. You’d thought about this for a long time, pondered over it many nights after hours of tossing and turning, and after five very long— and equally as frustrating years, you’d made your decision. You wanted to lose your virginity and you’d use all the resources at your disposal.

You didn’t have much luck out on the dating scene, which mainly consisted of Tinder and a couple of the local bars out in Roppongi. You’d tried it all: blind dates, speed dates, double dates. None of them ever resulted in a relationship— or even a one night stand— so you’d been forced back to square one each time. After five years of trying and failing, you’d given up on finding love for the time being.

But… not pleasure.

That’s how you find yourself walking into the luxurious lobby of the most popular brothel in the city. The smell of jasmine invades your nose and the sound of smooth jazz drifts into your ears, immediately creating a sensuous atmosphere that leaves you gawking. Red velvet couches line the walls, some accompanied by golden side tables where clients can sit their drinks while they wait to be called back.

At the front of the room sits a large mahogany desk with a woman seated behind it, tapping away at a computer. Swallowing, you timidly approach the front desk and lean in close, your voice barely above a whisper. “Hello, I’d like to… Um, book a room.”

The woman doesn’t even bother sparing you a glance, her fingers still flying across the keyboard. “Male or female bodied?”

“Male, please. I’d like… the male with the best rating, if possible.”

Your cheeks flush when the woman stops typing, her eyes glancing you over before responding. “I’m sure you would,” condescension colors her tone, “but I’m afraid there are premium rates for our top-tier employees.” Ones that are out of your price range, she suspects.

“I’m prepared to pay as much as it takes.” Unzipping your wallet, you spread it open to reveal a thick stack of crisp ten thousand yen banknotes. You’ve been saving up for this since Christmas, working a full-time job along with attending classes at the university nearby. It’d been stressful and you'd worked yourself ragged, pinching pennies for the last few months, but tonight is going to make it all worth it.

Her eyes flicker between you and your stuffed wallet for a moment before she crosses her arms and leans back in her chair. “I see. Well, I’ll have to check if he’s available. How long did you want to book him for?”

“…Three hours.”

Her eyebrows raise at that but she otherwise remains professional, nodding and picking up the phone on her desk. She quickly dials a number, sighing as she waits for someone to answer. “Hello? Yes, I was wondering if you’d like to accept a three-hour appointment.” She pauses for a second. “Yes, she’s here in the lobby right now and prepared to pay the fees upfront.” Another pause. “Okay. Thank you, Draken. Bye.”

Putting the phone down, she turns back to you. “He should be down shortly to take you back. That’ll be ¥120,000.”

— ღ —

After handing over the wad of cash, you take a seat on one of the velvet couches and run a hand through your hair. The room feels significantly warmer than it had when you first walked in and you realize it's because your heart is racing. It's happening. This is actually happening.

You'd almost chickened out this afternoon— considered using the money to take a nice little trip to Okinawa. You could swim with the fish and read out on the beach, eat some good seafood, blow off some steam. You'd definitely enjoy yourself but what happened once you came back? You'd find yourself back at square one, a hundred thousand yen poorer and filled with regret and immense sexual frustration.

There had been a couple of times you'd come close to achieving your goal. You'd gone to a frat party a few weeks ago, drank and danced your heart out. Even wore a pair of jean shorts that barely managed to cover your ass. When you ended up getting hot and heavy with one of the brothers, he took you back to his room only for you to walk in on his roommate having a threesome with two very talented blondes.

In March, when you first created a Tinder profile, you'd matched with a cute grad student who wanted to take you out to dinner. He drove you to a hotpot restaurant and halfway through the date, you two retreated to the bathroom to have a quickie. Your panties were around your ankles when you realized you didn't want your first time to be in a restroom stall beside a grimy toilet. You didn't want it to be a five-minute escapade that would leave you disappointed and unfulfilled. It's obvious to say the drive home had been awkward.

You're so deep in thought that you don't notice when a man walks out from behind the beaded curtain and approaches the front desk. You don't notice him at all— not until he's standing in front of you with a small smile playing on his lips. Onyx eyes roll over you slowly, long hair of the same color tied back in a braid. There's a black dragon tattooed across the left side of his head, and you have the oddest urge to reach out and trace your fingers atop it.

“You must be my client for tonight.” His voice is deep and smooth like molasses and a trill runs down your spine as he wets his lips, “I’m Draken.”

“Hi… I’m (y/n).” You offer, extending your hand out to which he lifts a brow.

He repeats your name back to you, drawing it out like he savors the taste of it on his tongue, and then takes your hand in his. Instead of shaking it, he interlaces his fingers through yours and gives it a soft squeeze. “C’mon princess, ’m on the top floor.”

Nodding weakly, you’re practically in a daze as he leads you back through the curtain of sparkling beads and into an elevator that’s every bit as fancy as the room you were just in. He fishes out a silver key from his pocket before turning it into the lock beside the button labeled seven, and up you go.

The enclosed area only emphasizes how large he is compared to you, how much space he takes up. He’s well above six feet with broad shoulders and muscles that bulge inside the sleeves of his silk button-down. You can feel him watching you as you ascend but you don’t have the courage to meet his gaze. Tension bleeds into the air, and coupled with the stark silence, it’s nearly suffocating. You have to make a conscious effort to take deep breaths as you will your heart to calm down.

When the dinging of the elevator sounds like church bells, you aren’t surprised. You’re pretty sure heaven awaits you on the other side of these doors.

You find that heaven looks a lot like a bachelor’s pad. Filled with dark wood and sleek furniture, it’s a mini-paradise; complete with a fully stocked bar, a king-sized bed, and a balcony leading out to a hot tub. Music plays softly from the surround sound system and you breathe in the faint aroma of juniper and tobacco as you walk inside.

“I hope R&B is alright.” He squeezes your hand once more before letting go of it, kicking off his slippers and making his way over to the bar. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“A glass of water?”

His brow lifts again but he nods, “Sure.”

“Thank you.” You look around while he pours out your drinks, taking in the scenic view of the city below. “You have a very nice place.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” When you turn around, he’s standing behind you, holding out a glass of water with a shot of sake in his other hand. “Be so formal.”

“Ah, I’m sorry.” You quickly accept the drink, muttering out a quiet apology. You’d done so much in preparation for this moment, but not once had you ever thought about how awkward it would be in the beginning. You hadn’t thought to look into the… ‘etiquette’ of brothels. You settle on giving him an honest answer. “I’m not entirely sure how to act.”

There’s a knowing smile on his face as he reaches out and tilts your chin up. His thumb glides lightly across your cheek, the calloused fingertip burning where it touches your skin. “Just relax. I promise you, you’re in good hands. I’m gonna take good care of you tonight.”

You know the gesture is meant to help reassure you and lessen your nerves, but all it succeeds in doing is sending your pulse skyrocketing. Apprehension bubbles low in your stomach and your voice wobbles when you respond. “O-Okay..”

“Let me ask you a question.” His thumb moves from your cheek to your mouth, feather-light as it ghosts over the curve of your lips. “You haven’t done this before, have you, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks flare at his question, eyes widening in shock. Is it that obvious? “No, I haven’t.” You admit reluctantly, “I just— Well, I’m tired of waiting. I know the first time is supposed to be special, but… this is special in a way, right?” You watch as the comforting smile falls right off his face. His eyebrows furrow and you mimic the action, worrying what you’d said to elicit this type of reaction. “What? What’s wrong?”

He blinks at you as he processes the information and you can practically see the cogs turning in his head. “First time?” His expression turns serious, his hand dropping from your cheek. “I was talkin’ about coming to a brothel, not having sex.” He shakes his head, “Look, I’ll take you back downstairs. Sana will get you a full refund—”

“No!” You cringe when you blurt it out, interrupting him. “Please, you don’t understand. I want to do this. I’m sure of it.”

“It’s not a matter of if you’re sure or not.” His voice is stern now, taking on an edge that slices right through your pounding heart. “It’s a personal preference. I don’t sleep with virgins, not at work.”

“I— I can pay you more money, however much you want!” You know you sound desperate but that’s because you are. You’ve worked your ass off to get here, to have this experience, and now you’re grasping for straws as you feel it slipping through your fingers. “You don’t even have to accommodate me, just do your thing and—”

It’s his turn to interrupt you. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” You can hear the anger in his voice, it’s almost palpable. “You can’t just go around tellin’ people they can have their way with you. It’s your first time. You should be accommodated. Now, follow me. I’m walking you back down to the lobby.”

You don’t move when he walks back toward the elevator, keeping your feet planted on the hardwood floor. “If I should be catered to, then why don’t you do it yourself? Because if you take me back down to the lobby, I won’t be getting a refund. I’ll just ask for someone different.”

A muscle in his jaw feathers as it clenches, his eyes narrowing down at you as if that will help him discern whether you’re bluffing or not. But as you hold his gaze, unwavering and earnest, he realizes you’re telling the truth. Heaving a sigh, he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He should be calling security right now, have you escorted out of the building. He shouldn’t be entertaining the thought of conceding to your demands.

Yet, there’s something in your eyes as you stare up at him— a certain innocence that has him willing to break his rules. Just once. He’d indulge you this once, if only because he doesn’t trust anybody else here to treat you right. “…Fine, but we’re doing this my way.”

You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding. “Thank you, Draken. It… that means a lot to me.”

“I know it does.” Normally, he isn’t so forgiving toward people who threaten him but he can recognize the desperation in your voice. And desperation can lead to dangerous things. Other men would take advantage of that, and for some reason, he hates the thought of some old sleazebag taking your first time. At least with him, he’d make sure you’re satisfied. “Here, let’s sit down.”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth. “Should we… take off our clothes?”

Your heart flutters when a chuckle rumbles up from his chest. You’re as awkward as you are stubborn and he finds it strangely endearing. “No, not yet. We’re gonna take it nice and slow, m’kay?” He scoots closer, turning to face you. “But I am going to kiss you.” He raises a hand to your cheek, his thumb resuming its stroking. “If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say so.”

He waits until you nod before beginning to lean in, slowly so you still have every chance to change your mind. But when his lips press against yours, claiming them with a tender kiss, you know there’s no going back.

His lips are soft and warm as they move against yours, and you kiss him back— albeit clumsily because of how nervous you are. He doesn’t seem to mind though, more than willing to take the lead and pick the pace. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to deepen the exchange, and you allow it, humming contently as the taste of spearmint and tobacco fills your mouth.

His hand moves to grip your jaw as the other trails up and down your side, and despite the shivers that ensue, it helps ground you in the moment, brings you back down to earth just in time for him to draw away. You’re left breathless, sucking in deep gulps of air to clear the dizziness that’s muddled your mind.

“You still want to do this?” Warm breath fans across your face, obsidian eyes searching yours for any sign of uncertainty. He doesn’t find any.

“Yes, please,” you whisper, “I meant it when I said I want to do this.”

That’s all the consent he needs before he captures your lips again, this time with an intensity that makes your head spin. His hands move to unbutton your blouse, slowly working their way down to the bottom and slipping it off your shoulders. He doesn’t break the kiss as he starts palming your breasts, massaging them over your bra, and you can’t help the whimper that rises up from your throat in response. His tongue continues to explore your mouth, tangling with yours until your core is throbbing with need.

“Gonna be a good girl f’me?” He murmurs against your lips, palms splayed across your chest. One of them snakes behind you and nimbly unclasps your bra, letting it fall forward just enough to give him a peek at what lies underneath. “Lay back.”

Your body responds naturally, following his order without hesitation. You pull away and lean back until you’re pressed against the mattress with him looming over you, his eyes drinking you in as he slips the garment off your shoulders. “Fuck…” He mutters, “Look at you.”

Your nipples pebble beneath his gaze, pretty and pert and begging to be played with. He licks his licks lustfully, rough hands coming down to cup and squeeze them. Your head turns to the side when he starts to pinch the peaks, rubbing them between his fingers and forcing another whimper to escape.

He maintains eye contact as he lowers down, plush lips wrapping around one only to flick his tongue over the bud. “Draken…”

“There you go,” he breathes out, pulling back to admire the view. “Just relax, baby.”

Unbuttoning his shirt, he shrugs it off, discarding it with the rest of your clothes before turning his attention back to you. “Don’t be afraid to touch me.” He leans forward and grabs your hands, moving to press them against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate, the rhythmic thumping beneath your palm. It’s a sharp contrast to yours which beats wildly against your ribcage, threatening to burst out of your chest.

With the sight before you, who can blame you?

His body is built and toned, corded muscles rippling across his torso and leading down to a delicious set of prominent v-lines. Your mouth waters as they flex and you drag your hands down to feel the hard ridges of his abdomen, a trail of dark hair descending down from his navel and disappearing into his jeans. You’re all but mesmerized.

“Like what you see?” He teases, his head dipping down to the curve of your neck. Straight white teeth graze across the tender flesh before suckling on your pulse point. All you can do is nod, your breathing shallow and uneven as his fingers continue tweaking your hardened nipples.

He knows the pace he’s setting is slow— deliberate— but he wants you more aroused than you’ve ever been, dripping wet for him when he finally takes you.

With soft pants falling from your lips, one of his hands slides down to your waist, his index finger dipping into the hem of your skirt. He could very well just pull it up, sneak his hand underneath it, but he resists the temptation, determined to make you squirm in anticipation.

And you do, every purposeful touch kindling the fire within you until it’s a blazing inferno. Your blood boils in your veins, your skin beautifully flushed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you’re in danger of overheating.

“Let’s get this off, yeah?” He mutters, letting the waistband of your skirt snap back against your skin. Your hips eagerly buck at the small sting, making it easy for him to tug it off and toss it onto the floor, and then he spreads your thighs apart to reveal a large damp spot in the middle of your panties. “Shit, so fuckin’ wet…” He curses, his eyes getting impossibly darker.

You nearly clamp your legs together as his eyes rove over you but the adoration in his expression bolsters you, gives you the confidence you need so badly. You stay still and let him look, trying to memorize the image of him between your thighs as he does.

Time seems to slow down. Seconds tick by and with each one that passes, you grow more and more uncomfortable. Your pussy aches, the desire he’s so carefully cultivated inside you becoming almost unbearable. But he either doesn’t notice the need swimming in your eyes, or he doesn’t care. He remains hovering over you, gaze zeroed in on your clothed cunt.

“Touch me,” the plea escapes you before you can stop it, and the corners of his lips tilt up into a small smirk. “Please.”

He hums as if he has to think about it. You’re about to start begging when his fingers press against you, applying enough pressure to make you mewl. “Don’t get greedy, princess.” He chastises gruffly, “You’ll take what I give you, remember?”

You nod obediently so he rewards you, circling your panty-clad clit until your hips are shifting back and forth. Moans fall freely from your lips but it still isn’t enough. You need more.

“Please,” you whine, eyebrows cinching together as you gaze up at him. “Draken, please…”

He hums again and hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties before dragging them down to your ankles. “Only ‘cause you asked so nicely.” Completely bared to him, apprehension saturates the air, your stomach doing backflips as he leans down and blows out a puff of air against your folds. When you clench at the sensation, a growl sounds. “Such a pretty little pussy.”

The pink flesh glistens in the dim lighting of the room, every inch soaked with arousal that drips down the inside of your thighs and onto the sheets beneath you. If you weren’t a virgin, he doesn’t think he’d even need to prep you.

Calloused fingers rub between your puffy folds, collecting your slick until his fingers are covered, and then one of his digits prods at your entrance, easing inside of you. Your back arches off the bed as he curves it in a come hither motion, your hands flying out to grip his shoulders. “Fuck..!”

You should be embarrassed at the deep laughter that leaves him but you can only focus on the way he’s knuckle deep inside of you, adding a second finger and beginning to thrust them both in and out. “Your reactions are s’cute. What if I were to just…” He trails off as he lowers down until he’s face-to-face with your pussy, and your hands strike out to grab his cheeks so you can hold him back.

“W-Wait..” You stammer before swallowing thickly, “It’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, no… I just… No one’s ever…” Your blush spreads to the tips of your ears.

He cocks a brow up at you. “No one’s ever eaten you out?” But he already knows the answer. Your mortified expression is as good as any verbal indication. Shock flickers across his face, but he takes the new piece of information in stride, turning his head to the side and pressing a kiss against the inside of your thigh. “Lemme taste you, baby. You don’t need to be shy.”

Your insecurities melt away under his encouragement but when you merely nod, he nips at your skin. “No, use your words.”

“O-Okay.” You breathe out shakily, “Go ahead.”

The words have barely left your mouth when you feel his lips wrap around your clit, his tongue expertly swirling around the sensitive bud and tearing a gasp from your throat. His fingers resume their curling motions, and suddenly a familiar sensation begins building in your stomach. It reminds you of all the times you’ve touched yourself, all of the times you’ve worked yourself into a frenzy chasing your orgasm. You’d rut against your pillow only for your legs to start trembling, too weak to climb the last few inches to the peak.

Admittedly, your legs do start to shake, your body tense and on the verge of locking up. It’s like you’ve conditioned it to expect the worst, that you’ll get close enough to taste the high and then be denied like all of the other times you’ve attempted to pleasure yourself.

“Draken,” you moan, the sound so depraved you don’t recognize your own voice, “Don’t stop— p-please, don’t stop..!”

A groan erupts from his chest as your walls tighten around his fingers and the vibrations of it cause another wave of heat to wash over you, threatening to pull you out to sea and drown you in its depths. You’re so close, closer than you’ve ever been before.

It’s when his mouth suctions around your clit that you’re flung off the precipice. Pleasure blooms out from between your thighs, shooting through your limbs and out to the tips of your fingers. Your eyes squeeze shut as it consumes you, bleeds into all your senses until you’re writhing around in the sheets, hands blindly grasping for something— anything— to ground you.

Even then, he doesn’t stop. He keeps sucking, keeps licking, long fingers thrusting inside of you to prolong the orgasm for as long as possible. “Good girl.” He praises, drawing away when you finally come to. You’re panting from the physical exertion, pupils blown with desire as you slowly lift your head to look down at him. His lips, cheeks, and chin are shiny with your slick, and you’d probably be embarrassed if you didn’t feel so lightheaded.

“Thank you… that was amazing..” And even that was a gross understatement.

Rising up from between your legs, there’s a smug expression on his face. “Save the thank-you’s for later, princess. We’re not done yet.” As if to emphasize his point, his hands drop down to start unbuckling his belt, your eyes following suit and widening into saucers when you see the bulge in the front of his pants.

“Oh my god.”

It’s… he’s huge.

You watch with bated breath as he unzips his pants and lets them drop around his ankles, your eyes boring holes into him when he pulls down his boxers and reveals both the prettiest and thickest cock you’ve ever seen. The shaft is long and curved, the tip flushed and leaking. A large vein runs down the entirety of the length and you swear if you look hard enough, you can see it pulsing.

He grips the base of it, stroking it a couple of times before prowling forward. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” A grin tugs at the corners of his lips. “Worried ‘s not gonna fit?”

“…Yes.” You squeak.

He chuckles at your candor, opening up a drawer on the bedside table and fishing out a small plastic square— a condom, you realize. It only takes him a moment to tear it open and slip it on, the action effortless from years of practice. “Don’t be scared. I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I? I’m a man of my word if nothing else.”

Crawling onto the bed, he captures your lips in a kiss that can only be described as comforting. It’s slow and gentle, even when his tongue dips into your mouth, and his hands come up to cup your cheeks, holding you in such a way that you can’t help but feel cherished.

“I’m gonna start now,” he murmurs against your lips, “Remember, if you want me to stop, just say the word.” You nod in acknowledgment, and with that, he reaches down and lines himself up with your entrance, the tip of his cock prodding at your center. “Squeeze me as tightly as you need.”

Your hands shoot out to grip his shoulders right as he starts to push inside of you and your nails bite into his skin at the stretch, leaving crescent indents behind. A strangled noise bubbles up from your throat when pain takes hold of you, burning bright like the sun in the middle of summer.

“I know,” he rasps, his lips ghosting over the edge of your jaw, “I know it hurts. But it’ll feel better soon, I promise.” Tears prick at your eyes as he pushes deeper inside you, but soon his fingers are circling over your clit, blending the pleasure and pain until one is indiscernible from the other. “Just breathe, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

His movements are so controlled, it’s impressive— even as the slew of foreign sensations threatens to overwhelm you, you’re able to recognize that much. His brows are furrowed in concentration, his breaths coming out in hot puffs that skate across your heated skin. And ever so slowly, he works you open, sinking into you inch by inch. By the time he’s bottomed out, a thin sheen of sweat covers his forehead, his voice strained when he says, “You did so well, baby, ‘m so fuckin’ proud of you.”

You only whimper in response, turning your head to the side so your cheek is pressed against the pillow. You feel so full, inhumanely full. So much so that you’re genuinely surprised you haven’t been split in half because, for all intents and purposes, that’s what it’d felt like. Your only saving grace is the way he hasn’t stopped rubbing your clit, hasn’t stopped praising you for taking him so well.

It’s a testament to his self-restraint the way he manages to remain still, buried deep inside you, while he patiently waits for your walls to adjust to his size. If he were a lesser man, he’d push aside your comfort, neglect your needs and pound into you to relieve his aching cock. But he waits, waits until your pained whimpers morph into soft moans, until you start to squirm beneath him as your body tries to create the friction it needs so badly.

“Move,” you beg, your hands sliding down from his shoulder to grab onto his hips, attempting to move them yourself. “Please… need you to move..”

A pair of large hands tug yours away from his waist before they pin them down on either side of your head. There’s no real force behind the maneuver but you don’t fight him off as he threads your fingers between his, just like he did earlier this evening. “Look at me, (y/n). I want you to look at me while I fuck you.”

Tentatively, you turn your head so you’re staring up at him. You’re not sure what he sees but approval shines in his eyes and a sincere smile graces his lips. “Good girl.”

With your eyes glued on his, he finally starts to move, drawing his hips back and pushing into you in small, shallow thrusts. Your lips part into a gasp, your breath hitching every time he’s fully hilted inside of you. Tears line your lashes but this time, they aren’t from pain. They’re from pure, unadulterated pleasure— the all-encompassing kind that leaves you in tatters on the floor.

“Feels s’good.. So fuckin’ tight.” He groans, his pace speeding up as more moans pour from your lips. The sound of skin slapping skin ensues and you cry out when he shifts his angle, the tip of his cock hitting a spot that makes your eyes roll.

Your pleasure heightens and you think that this must be euphoria as your tears overflow, spilling down your cheeks and dropping onto the pillow beneath your head. Yet, you don’t look away from him. You don’t dare shy away from his gaze, not even when the coil inside you begins winding tight, warning you of your impending orgasm.

He squeezes your hands as your body goes taut. You’re panting now— sucking in breath after breath as your bodies collide— but you can’t seem to get enough air. Up you climb, higher and higher until you begin to tremble beneath him, your hands holding onto his like they’re a lifeline.

“You gonna cum, baby?” He asks through gritted teeth, “Gonna cream on my cock?” He curses when you nod, dropping his forehead down so it rests against yours. “Well, go on then, princess. Make a fuckin’ mess.”

As if on command, the cord inside you abruptly snaps. A violent shudder wracks through your body, bliss clouding every single one of your five senses. It’s enough to wrench a deafening sob out of you, your back arching up off the bed so your chest is pressed firmly against his. He continues to drive into you as your walls pulsate around him and a growl reverberates up from his throat at the same time you feel his length twitch inside of you.

He stops after a few more thrusts, slowly pulling out of you and turning over to lie on his back. You whine quietly at the loss, but you’re too busy trying to catch your breath to complain.

“Shit…” He says, his head turning to look at you after a couple of minutes of silence, “How do you feel?”

Somehow, you summon up enough energy to smile through the exhaustion that’s seeped into your bones. “Definitely not like a virgin.”

He lets out a laugh at that, flashing you a brilliant white smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the sides. “Well, we’ve still got two hours left, sweetheart. Don’t go tappin’ out on me yet.”

#♡⃕ tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers #draken #ken ryuuguji #draken x reader #ken ryuuguji x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #i wrote this in a fever dream

620 notes · View notes

familyvideostevie · 9 months

Text

august: a no good at waiting one-shot

Almost a year has gone by since you arrived in Hawkins. You and your enemy-turned-friend-turned-love-of-your-life Steve Harrington are feeling a little restless as summer passes. Your anxieties will not leave you alone: Are you going to move in together? Does Steve want to leave Hawkins? What will you do if he goes somewhere else? It all comes to a head on a day spent at Lover's Lake.

fluff, angst, miscommunication, musings about making choices, and lots of love! [5.4k]

this is a one-shot set after the events of no good at waiting, a farmer's market au, so it's best if you read that first! | au masterlist

Everything is perfect.

Well, not exactly. But you're happy.

Okay, again, not the whole truth. You're mostly happy. You love living in Hawkins, you love working at New-Bee's and the library, and you love Steve. Your boyfriend, your short-lived enemy, your favorite person. Who is kind of pissing you off right now.

Almost a year has gone by since you arrived in Hawkins not knowing what you wanted or who you were or how things were going to go. This summer has been fantastic -- dates with Steve and nights with your friends, drives to amusement parks and county fairs and visiting Robin's campus. It feels right to be here and you're glad that you decided to stay. You think that maybe you've finally figured out how life is supposed to feel: like this. Like love.

But at the moment, Steve has you in a bit of a rut. A few months ago he told you he really wanted to go on a trip this summer. Something just the two of you, a week or two, exploring a new place. You loved the idea because you love doing anything with Steve, but for some reason he's hardly mentioned it since then. And with the end of summer fast approaching, you know your chances at getting away are running out. As far as you can tell, he hasn't planned anything secret. Sure, things have been busy: El broke her arm last month so Steve took on extra shifts, there was a huge storm that flooded some of the fields, you got a promotion and the library and thus more hours, his car needed new breaks. The stars haven't aligned but there also hasn't been any...effort.

And that's just one thing.

The other thing, which is maybe bigger and actually makes you a bit mad, is you've been focused on figuring out how to move in together. You live at Bob's still and while you spend a lot of time at Steve's loft you've talked about finding a place of your own and your loose goal was to have it sorted by the fall. But he talks about both the move and the trip like they're just dreams, far away things that will never actually happen. He's vague whenever you bring up the new apartments going up on the old mall property, about the for sale signs you sometimes see around town. He tells you that it'll work out, that he wants to be sure you guys have enough money to be comfortable.

Does he not want to move in with you? It's a silly thought, sure, but what else are you supposed to think? He's spending every minute he's not with you at the farm or on errands he's been calling "Hopper Missions" on some property just outside of town. It's like he's filling the time so there's no room to discuss the future, like he wants to pretend it'll be summer forever.

Being in an adult relationship is hard. It's lots of decisions and compromise and learning how to talk to each other even when you don't want to and you wouldn't trade it for the world. You know it'll all work out, you just wish that it was worked out already, so you could enjoy the end of the summer and stop worrying that your boyfriend doesn't want to live with you. You know that you should just tell him how you're feeling, but that's easier said than done. Every time you try you wonder if you're being oversensitive or ungrateful or reading into things too much and you back out. Feelings are hard, okay?

You're mulling over the weight of all of these thoughts at the market on one warm Saturday morning in August. Market day is routine by now. It was fun to be here for the start of the season back in May, but you prefer the high summer days when there are endless fruits and veggies to buy and everyone is full of energy and excitement at another day. By now you run the stand practically alone -- local kids free for the summer help you stock in the morning and unload and cover when you're otherwise occupied. You've expanded to four standard candle scents and try out a seasonal one every month or so and the soaps were a very popular graduation gift. You've just tried your hand at chapsticks and they're doing really well.

Most people in town call you by your name when they come say hi. It's a little slow this month, with seasonal allergy honey sticks being less and less popular as the season winds down. So you feel okay retreating into your thoughts until someone clears their throat. You snap out of it and find El standing in front of you with a paper bag. There's a crease between her brows as she watches you.

"Hi," you say. "Is that for me?"

She nods. "I said that you looked sad so Steve told me to bring you something because he's 'up to his ears in husk'. He said you didn't eat breakfast." She uses air quotes. You soften.

"Thank you," you tell her. She keeps looking at you for a few moments before giving you a smile and trotting back to the Sara's tent. Inside the bag is one of her newer experiments -- peach scones. It's fantastic. You munch on it and keep smiling at anyone who comes by, though it's maybe not as effusive as you'd like. You really want to talk to someone about how you're feeling (a voice in your head says that person should be your boyfriend but you ignore it) but you're not sure who to go to. Robin is in Boston visiting Nancy at her hot-shot job at the paper, Eddie and Wayne are on a fishing trip somewhere in Michigan, and you're not about to chat to high schoolers about your love life, no matter how much you like them. You're not sure anyone around here notices your mood like your friends do.

"Why do you look like you swallowed a lemon?"

Well, anyone but your friends and...Murray, it seems. The guy is a little weird, sure, but he's friends with Hopper and Joyce and he really buys "a fuck ton" from the market every week, as Steve once said.

"Hi Mr. Bauman," you say. He frowns.

"Cut that Mr. shit out," he says, though it's not harsh. You do this dance every time he comes to buy an alarming amount of honey. "Your mood is going to ruin the honey."

"I...don't think that's how it works," you say. He levels you with a stare that you think must have served him well when he was a journalist in Chicago, as you've learned he was. "I'm thinking about a place to live?"

"You sure?" he says, poking fun at your uncertainty. "You can live anywhere. Trust me. Cars aren't great, but they'll do. I'd avoid tents. Very damp."

"I guess I was thinking a house," you admit, looking at your fingers. You've never put this into words before and you're not sure why you're doing it now. "Somewhere not too big, maybe with some land so I could get a dog. Not in town but not too far from town." You sigh. "It's a dumb dream."

Murray doesn't say anything. You look up at him and he looks confused. His gaze darts between you and the Sara's stand where you can see the back of Steve's head. "Not the dumbest I've heard."

He slaps down a bill and picks up his usual jar and walks away without another word. Whatever, he's a weird guy.

The day winds down and you're a little too warm to be comfortable and you're just sweaty enough that you want to take a shower and you've stewed in your feelings for too long. Of course this is when Steve comes over. Handsome as ever in his work jeans despite the heat and a Sara's t-shirt he's cut the arms off of, he looks like the lead in a teen movie.

You're loading up the crates to take back to the truck. He squeezes your hip in hello before he starts to help. "How did New-Bee's do today?" he asks.

You shrug. "Average. You?"

"Every damn person in this town wanted corn," he says. "I swear it felt like we sold more than we did for the fourth!"

You hum. It's unfair that your mood has plummeted just as he's shown up and you don't want to take it out on him, even if you consider it a little bit his fault. Steve, for his part, is being a typical boy and doesn't notice. "Hey, listen," he says.

"Listening," you mutter.

"Let's go to the lake tomorrow." That gets you to look at him. He wipes his forehead with his pocket bandana.

"The lake? Why?"

"Everyone says it'll be hotter than today and I think we deserve a day to relax, don't you think?" He squints at the sky, shading his eyes. His arms look lovely like this. "I know we haven't gone on that trip so this is like, a mini trip! Staycation? I think that's what it's called."

"I don't know if a day at the lake in town counts as a vacation, Steve," you say. But even as the words come out you find yourself wanting to go because its something to do. You haven't been swimming in the lake despite Steve's summer bucket list item of skinny dipping. You've actually only been to the lake in general a few times, which is a bit strange since it's such a big place in your relationship. You kissed for the first time at the bonfire on the shore, you told him you loved him in the cab of your truck on a cold night.

"So, is that a no?" He's looking at you with a confused expression.

"It's a yes. Is anyone else coming?"

"No, just us. We can have a picnic or some cute shit, yeah?" He rests his hand on your lower back and maybe it's a combination of the heat and your mood and the universe but you don't want him to touch you right then so you pull away from it. You don't look at him.

"Are you sure you don't have super secret Hopper shit to do?" Silence behind you.

"No," Steve says, dragging the word out. "Hey, are you alright? Did I do something?"

You ignore his question. "Are you going to come get me in the morning?" Usually, you'd go home, shower, and then stay over at Steve's place. This is a clear line in the sand that you're not sure is fair to draw.

"Sure," he says. "But, seriously, what's going on?" You do look at him then. He's got a frustrated set to his shoulders and his brows are drawn like he's trying to solve a puzzle.

You chew on your lip, hands in fists at your sides. "Nothing," you say. He gives you an incredulous look. "Okay, I just don't want to talk about it right now." The last thing you need is to not talk about it but you can feel that you're getting actually bothered about this and you don't want to have a discussion that gets taken over by your mood.

"Okaaaaay," he says. It annoys you even more. Your own shoulders creep up to your ears. "I'll help you pack up and then --"

"No," you say sharply. "I can do it myself."

"Woah, woah, woah," he says. "Okay, alright!" He holds his hands up in the air and the fight wooshes out of you.

"I don't want to fight with you, Steve."

"Who said we were fighting? Do we have something to fight about?"

You close your eyes and tip your head back. It all comes out in a rush. "Steve, I love you and we spend so much time together and I keep trying to get you to talk about looking for a place and you just won't and you want to go on a trip but you won't actually plan it and you want to go to the fucking lake tomorrow and it's like you want to do anything except talk about this stuff and I don't really want to be around you right now."

You don't feel any better for having said all of it. In fact, your chest aches and your nose stings. You don't know if you can look at him.

"I didn't know you were that upset about it," he says finally. It sounds frosty.

"I didn't tell you."

"I can see that," he says. You still don't look at him.

The market is really closing up around you, fewer voices and commotion. You wonder if anyone heard this argument. "I can pack the rest. I'll see you tomorrow." You could have told him you don't want to go but maybe the lake is where you can squash this once and for all.

Steve seems to take the dismissal at face value because you hear him sigh. Part of you wants him to fight you on it right here right now, to sort it out so you can stop feeling so worried all the time. But he doesn't. Instead, you hear his steps and then feel the heat of him as he gently kisses you on the cheek.

"Okay," he says. "See you tomorrow."

And then he's gone.

"Fuck," you say to yourself. You shake yourself out of it and try to pack away the rest of the stall with as much speed as you can muster without breaking anything. The scar across your palm is faint by now but you aren't eager to get another one.

You're almost done bringing the crates to the truck when you hear your name. Will stands in front of your stall, a hesitant smile on his face. He's a sweet kid -- 18, soon, you think, so hardly a kid at all -- and you've gotten to know him a little more since you asked if he wanted to draw the labels for the chapsticks.

"Hi, Will," you say. "Sorry I didn't see you."

He's holding a single sunflower. "Sorry to bother you," he says. "This guy is the only one left today and El said you looked a little down earlier so I thought maybe you'd like it?"

You blink a few times. "Did you, uh, hear all of...that?" You vaguely gesture behind you as if the ghost of Steve is standing there with his arms crossed.

Will looks at you for a second, considering something. Then he holds the flower out and says, "Hear what?" Tactful kid.

"Thanks, Will." He tells you to have a good day and goes back to the flower stand. The sunflower stem is velvet-soft in your hand and the petals are a brilliant yellow. It's a bit lonely on it's own but you will put it in a wine bottle and keep it on your windowsill.

Imagining it there, the only stem, standing as tall as it can in the sunshine in your bedroom, makes you want to cry.

The thing you're most scared of is Steve wanting to leave Hawkins after all. You knew it was a genuine possibility when you started dating, knew that he wanted to explore the world just as you started to make yours here. You told him you'd go with him anywhere he wanted and you meant it then. But now you're not so sure. You love Hawkins and you love Steve. You don't know what you're going to do if one of them demands you leave the other.

Your mind churns as you go to bed and as soon as you wake up. Maybe he doesn't want to plan a trip because he's afraid he won't want to come back. Maybe he's afraid to move in together because he doesn't want to invest time and money into something he'll leave behind. Maybe he's already got plans and he's trying to figure out how to tell you.

"Stop it," you tell yourself in the bathroom mirror. You're prone to this kind of overthinking; it's why you made the huge mistake of running from him last fall. And while you know him so much better, know yourself so much better, sometimes it's hard to believe that you not only deserve nice things and a nice life full of love but that you already have them. And that's why you don't know if you can leave even if you told him you could.

You sit at the kitchen table in your swimsuit under shorts and a wax-stained New-Bee's t-shirt and feel a bit sick about yesterday. You know that Steve will come get you -- he would have called if he didn't want to go anymore. You don't leave each other in a lurch like that, even if you've fought. But you're worried that you've ruined the chance of a fun day that hasn't even happened yet.

The frustration with Steve still simmers under your skin. But you want to table it to have a bit of fun, if you can. You hear the crunch of his tires in the driveway and you grab your stuffed bag and head for the door. You're greeted with the sight of Steve getting out of the car and smiling at you a little hesitantly. He's in bright red swim trunks and a ratty Hawkins High t-shirt and sunglasses.

"What is this, Baywatch?" you ask him, breaking the tension. He laughs and meets you on the porch stairs to give you a quick kiss. You chase his lips a little but he doesn't call you on it.

"Well, I was a lifeguard," he says.

"Which I bet you did just so you could look hot in the chair."

"Obviously," Steve says. He takes your bag from you. "Actually, I taught kids to swim, too. Jesus, what's in here, a watermelon?"

You roll your eyes. "Just the essentials. Sunscreen, a book, some sandwiches, grapes, a water bottle, spare clothes, a towel, a hat --"

"Okay, okay, damn," he laughs, putting it in the back seat. You get in the car and he heads for the lake, windows down. He was right about the weather -- it's much hotter than yesterday already. It could be a nice day. You want it to be a nice day. But the churning your gut demands you address the elephant in the room.

When Steve reaches for the radio you catch his hand in yours.

"Steve," you say. "I do want to talk about yesterday." He doesn't look at you, chewing on his cheek and tapping the wheel in what you know is a nervous habit.

"Yeah," he says. "We probably should. But I also want today to be nice, okay?" He kisses the back of your hand.

"I do, too."

It's not much but it's enough for now. It doesn't take long to get to the lake. Steve takes you to a different part than where you had the bonfire and where you told him you love him. This area has a dock and some grass and a shore of sand and rocks that you can see from where he parks the car.

"There's no one here," you say, unloading the backseat. "Are we even allowed to swim?"

Steve grabs the blanket from his trunk and you spread it out on the grass. "Yeah," he says. "Five years ago or something they finished a project with some scientists or some shit to make sure the lake was good for swimming. They built this but honestly I don't think a ton of people come here." He shrugs. "Or they knew we were coming and left it to us."

"Lucky us," you smirk. You spread out your items on the grass before shimmying out of your shorts and t-shirt. Steve wolf whistles. "Gross!" you tell him.

"Sorry," he says, not looking sorry at all. "That's a nice color on you. Have I seen this before?" His eyes rake over you and you plant your hands on your hips instead of crossing your arms.

"Have we been swimming before?" you ask him.

He grins. "Good point." He pulls off his shirt in one motion from the collar like boys do and without another word sprints down the small hill and onto the dock, jumping off the end and into the water with a yelp and a splash.

"Such a child," you mutter, but you're endeared. He surfaces and shakes out his head like a dog.

"Okay," he says. "It's kind of really fucking cold."

You stop in your tracks, feet just on the edge of the dock. "Really?"

"No," he says. "It's only a little cold. Nice, though." You look skeptical.

"Did you put on sunscreen?" you ask, stalling.

"Yeah." Steve swims in slow circle. "Did you? I'll do your back," he says with an eyebrow wiggle.

"I did it already," you say primly. You knew that if you ended up touching too much on this date, you'd never get to talk about the stuff you need to talk about. "So no back rub necessary." Steve shoots a stream of water at you with his mouth. It gets your knees.

"It is cold!" you squeal. Steve looks too pleased with himself. "It's on, Harrington." You take a few running steps and cannonball into the water.

Honestly, once you've been under for a few seconds it's not so bad. You surface and find Steve grinning at you. "That was cute," he says. You splash him.

After acting like children for a little you both float on your backs, hands clasped, watching the sky. Your conversation and teasing fades and in its place returns your anxiety and frustration from yesterday.

Steve seems to think you're hungry. "Let's eat something," he says. "And put on some more sunscreen."

He gets up on the dock first and runs to get your towels. He wraps yours around your dripping shoulders and you stand in his arms for a second, hand pressed to his heart to feel it beat. You love him. You will work this out. You wonder if it's possible for something to go wrong not because you don't love each other enough but because you love each other too much.

"I made you a great sandwich," you say, pulling away. "And you need more sunscreen, too. Your nose is getting red."

"Wait, really?"

You settle on the blanket and lay out your lunch. Steve pulls berries from his own bag and you eat in a silence that is only a little tense until he tosses a strawberry top into the grass and sighs.

"So, I'm guessing now is the time to talk about it?" he asks.

"Do you not want to?" You don't want this to be a fight but you don't know what else it's going to be.

"No, of course I do," he says. "We need to, clearly." He crosses his legs, his tanned stomach rolling in the way you adore over the waistband of his swim trunks. God, you love him. That's why you have to figure this out.

"We do," you say, squaring your shoulders. "I'll start." The frustration returns full force. "What the hell have you been up to, Steve? You're busy all the time and I don't need to know what you're doing because I do trust you. I just don't get why you can't tell me what you're doing on these weird errands and you won't talk to me about going on a trip or moving and I thought those were both things we wanted."

"I do want those things --"

"I've been looking into what we can afford in Hawkins and thinking about places we could go and I'm busy busting my ass at the library when I'm not at New-bee's so that we can live somewhere nice. And it just seems like you don't actually care that much about moving in together because --"

"I do, care," he says over you. "I just don't want to live in Hawkins."

Time slows down. Your heart thunders in your ears. "What did you say?"

Steve looks stressed. He reaches for you but you don't want to touch him so you cross your arms. A look of hurt crosses his face but it fades quickly.

"Let me explain," he says. "I can explain it all. If I had known you were feeling this way I would have much earlier. Why didn't you tell me?"

You shake your head to clear it. He doesn't want to live in Hawkins? Well, what does he want? Does he want you, still? "Because I didn't think you'd make me feel this way," you say hoarsely.

He takes a deep breath. "I wanted to go on a trip this summer, yeah. I thought it would be fun. And then, like, two months ago, I started thinking about how I didn't actually want to leave Hawkins, but I also don't want to keep living the same life in Hawkins, if that makes sense."

Two months? Two months? The timeline rolls around in your mind. He's been thinking about this for two months and he didn't tell you?

Steve is still talking, apparantly not noticing your distress. "And we talked about looking for a place so I realized that maybe a trip wasn't a good use of our money even though I know we both work hard and are doing fine. And then I was on a drive the weekend you went to visit your family, remember?"

You nod. You'd gone home for a weekend and missed him terribly the entire time. Steve taps your ankle and you realize he wants you to reply. His eyes are wide like he's scared and he runs a hand through his hair. What is he scared of? "Yeah," you say hollowly. "I called you every night."

"You did," he says. "The first night you left I went for a drive all around the county, basically. Just to get out of town but not go too far. To do anything other than mope at my place after we hung up. And that's when I found it."

You aren't following. He leans forward and taps your cheek with his knuckle. "The most perfect damn place in the world."

"Don't tell me you bought a piece of land, Steve," you say. It doesn't seem like a thing he'd do and wouldn't make sense if he's just going to leave.

Your boyfriend just smiles at you. "No," he says. "I didn't buy it. Well, not really."

"Not really?" you say, incredulous. What the fuck is going on?

"I'm almost done explaining, I swear, honey." He runs a hand through his damp hair again. "It's maybe half an hour out of Hawkins proper. It's a real nice little farmhouse with lots of open space around it and I saw it and it felt like I'd been struck by lightning, or something."

The pieces start to fall into place but you don't dare hope. "Dramatic," you say.

"Hey, don't make fun of me!" Your joke seems to encourage him. "It looked like no one lived there so I figured out what the address was and turns out that weird guy Murray owns it."

Murray? Who you say yesterday at the farmer's market and who listened to you tell him about your dream property? That he, apparently, happens to own?

"He's not that weird," you mumble.

"He is weird but I don't give a shit because he doesn't use it and after talked to me he agreed to rent it to us for barely anything if I fixed it up a little first. So that's what I've been doing."

Steve looks at you, eyes wide and waiting. You blink a few times and try to take it all in.

"So let me get this right," you say. "When you haven't been working at Sara's or spending time with me, you've been fixing up a house that you're going to rent from Murray? And you told me none of this? For two months?"

Steve frowns. "When you say it like that I sound like the bad guy. Also, we're going to rent it." He seems to realize you haven't agreed to anything by the way his face falls and okay, maybe you're being a little unfair. Yes, he lied, a little bit, but it wasn't anything harmful. You just got in your head about it.

"I just don't get why you didn't tell me," you say, feeling small. "I was starting to think that you didn't..."

"Didn't what?" Steve reaches for you and you let him take your hands this time.

"Didn't actually want to live together. Didn't want to go on a trip. I don't know." You sigh.

Steve looks genuinely upset at that you've thought this. "Honey," he says, voice rough. "All I want is to live with you. This house is for us. Now that I'm saying it out loud I'm realizing I probably should have told you that at the start."

A whole house. You've imagined your first place together to be a dinky apartment on the edge of town. But a house? It's a dream come true. You bring Steve's palm to your cheek and lean into it.

"I thought we were good at communicating," you say softly.

"Apparantly not," he says wryly. "I'm sorry for not telling you. I just...wanted to make it nice and official first, I guess." His thumb strokes your cheek. "But you should have told me how you were feeling a long time ago."

"Yeah," you agree. "I'm sorry. Would have saved me some heartache and you some hard work. I could have helped!"

"You still can," he says, eyes lighting up. "It's not quite done. I still need to paint the outside."

You scoot forward so you're almost in his lap. "Where did you learn to fix up a house, Steve?"

"Hopper," he says. He fiddles with the strap of your bathing suit. "He's been helping. So I really was doing Hopper stuff, kind of?" He licks his lips. Another nervous tell. "So, what do you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"About the house. I know it's a lot and we're still kind of young but renting means we can change our minds and --"

You put your head in your hands. "Steve," you say, voice thick. "I'm still getting over the fact that I thought you didn't want to move win with me and finding out that instead you've found us a house."

His hands circle your wrists. "Only to rent!" he says a little desperately. "I mean, you might not even like it!" You allow him to pull your palms away. Your nose starts to sting.

"I will," you say.

"Oh no," Steve says. "You look like you're going to cry." He pulls you fully into his arms and flops onto his back on the blanket, taking you with him. You land on his chest with an oof.

"I've been really scared," you say into his bare chest. "That you were going to leave and I don't know if I can follow you because I love it here even though I love you, too."

"I know," he says. "But I think this is perfect. It's close but not the place we've been. It's ours until we want something different. And I don't think I want to leave because I want to be wherever you are."

"It's so grown up." You sniffle and he rubs your back.

"I know," he sighs. You can feel his heartbeat under your cheek. "What the fuck."

"What the fuck," you echo and laugh wetly. "Is the yard big enough for a dog?"

"Sure is," he says. "Do you want to drive by when we head home?"

"I do." He hums.

You sit in silence for a few breaths. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, but please tell me things next time, okay?" He looks down at you through long lashes.

"Deal," he says. "I love you back, but please tell me how you're feeling, okay?"

"Deal." You roll off of him and sit up. "Can we go see our house now?"

He grins toothily. "Hell yes we can," he says. "Well, it's not ours yet. Seriously, we have to work that out with Murray. I think we need a lawyer to draw something up? I don't really know how all that works --"

You kiss him in the middle of his sentence. "We'll figure it out."

"You're right," he says. He kisses you again. "We will."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

#no good at waiting #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington au

407 notes · View notes

proxima-writes · 8 months

Text

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀, 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓?

PAIRING: Ex-Boyfriend!Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

RATING: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

WORD COUNT: 3k

SUMMARY:

Your ex-boyfriend, Dieter Bravo, is in town and sends you a text. Meeting up with an ex, especially one you’re still in love with, is a bad idea, right? Based on the song “bad idea, right?” by Olivia Rodrigo

DEAR READER:

My first Dieter Bravo fic! If you enjoy, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging 💕 You can also support my writing through my kofi Dividers and banners by @saradika

CONTENT WARNINGS:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, no referenced age difference, dubcon - alcohol consumption prior to sexual activity, domme/sub dynamics, sub!dieter, teasing, masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), praise, pet names, begging, unprotected p in v, love confessions, dieter being bad with feelings and words. please let me know if any are missing!

Dieter sits on the couch in the penthouse hotel room he's currently renting in New York, phone in one hand and a fresh Salty Dog in the other. The TV flickers with a porn he rented after not finding anything worth watching on the limited number of free channels and to be honest, he likes the background noise of moans and skin slapping against skin to fill the silent void.

He scrolls through Twitter as he sips his drink. There's one tweet that catches his eye, a familiar name in the hashtag that gives him pause. A glutton for punishment, he clicks the hashtag, his screen flooded with cell phone quality pictures of you, enjoying a night out.

In New York.

It's a blurry photo of you on a rooftop in a sexy outfit that looks like it was made just for you, a shimmery black fabric hugging all your curves just right. You're surrounded by people he doesn't recognize and your head is thrown back in an easy laugh.

Dieter frowns. He used to make you laugh like that.

Dieter scrolls some more, a glutton for punishment, and comes across another picture, a different angle, but this time there's a man leaning into your space, mouth close to your ear and an arm settled at the base of your spine. He takes a hearty sip of his drink, wincing at the bitter taste as he sets the glass on the coffee table.

He closes Twitter and opens his messages, scrolling until he finds your name.

wyd?

Your phone buzzes in your hand and the name that flashes across the screen has your breath catching.

Dieter: wyd?

You roll your eyes at the message. Of course.

You set your phone down on the table and look up, catching the judgmental stare of your best friend, Melanie.

"What?" You ask. She raises her eyebrows at you.

"That was very much the Dieter Bravo eye roll," she says, tone accusatory. "Did he just text you?"

"No."

Your phone buzzes a second time and her eyes drop to the screen, her hand reaching across the table to snatch it before you even have time to blink.

"'I'm in New York'?" She reads. "Oh my god, he did not send you a 'wyd' text!"

You're in a nice restaurant with a six month long waitlist for a reservation so you're desperately trying to keep yourself from launching across the table at her to get your phone back but the urge is certainly strong. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you hold your hand out to her. "Give me my phone."

"Are you going to text him back?"

"No." Yes.

The look she gives you momentarily leaves you wondering if she can actually read minds. You straighten yourself in your seat, tilting your chin defiantly as you say, "I am a grown adult who can make her own decisions."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you always make good ones," Melanie replies, handing you your phone.

"It's a bad idea, right?" You ask. "Like...an extremely bad one?"

"Catastrophic even," she agrees. “He’s your ex for a reason!”

“Okay, but can’t two people reconnect? Isn’t the goal to be like…friends or something?”

You stare at each other for a moment. Her smile falters. "Oh my god, you're going to answer."

"I'm going to answer." Your fingers fly across the screen and hit send before you allow your logic to return.

Address?

The car you ordered pulls up to a boutique hotel, the kind that has a symbol for its sign instead of a name, and the driver comes around the front of the car and opens the door for you, holding a hand out to help you from your seat. You thank him and take a deep breath before entering the glittering lobby.

There's a separate elevator for the penthouse suite and the attendant on duty asks for your name, checking an iPad in his hands before pressing the button with a gloved fingertip. Once the car arrives and the shiny golden doors silently slide open, you step inside.

You stare at your reflection in the doors as the elevator rises, wondering why you're doing this. Your relationship with the actor lasted about eight months - long enough for you to fall in love and long enough for him to decide he was bored of you. After citing scheduling issues as his reason for breaking things off, you went back to hearing about him rather than from him and trying to fix the cracks in your life that he had left behind.

When the elevator stops and the doors slide open, Dieter is standing there with his familiar messy brown curls in disarray, a hotel robe open over his chest and tied loosely around his waist. He opens his arms wide as he grins.

"Hey, baby. Miss me?" He asks. You roll your eyes.

"Like a cavity, Bravo,” you reply, but your feet still guide you forward and you let yourself get enveloped in his embrace, the familiar smell of faded cologne and weed invading your senses. “Why did you text me?”

“Why did you come?” He asks.

“I asked you first.” You pull away, stepping around him and entering the living room of the large suite.

“You want a drink? I got you that wine you like,” Dieter says, pulling a bottle from an ice bucket set on a room service cart. He holds a glass up and you nod, watching as he fights with the corkscrew.

He finally gets the bottle popped, pouring each glass to the brim and stepping carefully across the room with one in each hand, settling beside you on the couch. He passes one to you and you take a quick sip to prevent disaster. Dieter opts to chug half of his serving in one go.

“So,” he says, drawing the word out, “You wanna have sex with me?”

You drain the rest of your glass, leaning forward to set it on the coffee table beside his. You kick your heels off, shifting in your seat until you’ve got your knees beneath you, pressed into the cushion. Planting a hand on his shoulder for stability, you swing one leg over him and settle on his lap.

“This is a bad idea, right?” You ask, face close enough to his that your lips nearly touch when you speak. His hands slide up your thighs.

“Probably,” he agrees, brown eyes half lidded as he stares at you.

“Fuck it, it’s fine,” you decide, pressing your lips to his. Your mouths move together hungrily, six months apart fueling a fire that’s ready to burn you alive.

“Fucking hell,” Dieter groans, hips bucking up and dragging his hardening cock against your center. “Want you so goddamn bad.”

“How bad?” You ask, already breathless as he trails his lips down your neck, his beard scratching the thin skin over your rapid pulse.

“Thought of you every time I fucked my hand.” A bite to your throat has you hissing from the combination of pleasure and pain. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging his head back in retaliation. “Even bought one of those pocket pussy things. Didn’t even come close.”

That gives you pause. With six months gone between the breakup and now, you would have thought he’d been drowning in women and men clamoring at the chance to fuck him.

You kiss him again, your tongues sliding together in a messy, dirty dance you’ve missed more than you care to voice. Your hips move over his while his hands explore every exposed inch of you they can find.

“Take your clothes off,” he demands when his lips break from yours.

“Ask nicely,” you chastise. His brown eyes go wide, a pathetic puppy dog glimmer in them.

“Please,” he begs. “Pretty please, with a cherry on top?”

You stand, laughter spilling from your lips as you reach for zipper at your back, tugging it down slowly while he watches. He licks his lips like he’s being presented a six course meal and his hands curl into the material of the robe that’s fallen open, giving you an unobstructed view of a broad chest and soft tummy. You turn your back to him, easing the sleeves of the dress off your shoulders slowly.

“Come on, baby,” Dieter whines. “Quit teasing.”

“Good things come to boys who wait,” you tell him, shimmying the fabric over your hips, bending at the waist to ease the dress over the curve of your ass and down to the floor. This leaves you in only a thong, the red straps of it a gorgeous contrast to your skin that you know he’ll go crazy for.

“Fuck. Me.”

You turn back around to face him, the man’s eyes dropping immediately to your breasts. He raises his arms, making grabby hand motions toward your chest that have you giggling.

“What if,” you tap your finger to your chin in thought, “I just wanted you to watch me?”

Dieter pouts. “I could be a lot more help with my cock,” he argues.

“Hmm.” You take a seat on one of the cushy arm chairs in the sitting area, spreading your legs wide. “I’ve been doing just fine these last six months without it,” you tell him, sliding a hand beneath the elastic of your panties.

“This is fucking cruel and unusual punishment,” Dieter says. “A violation of the Geneva Convention.”

“Always so dramatic,” you reply as you circle your clit with your fingertips. He leans forward on the couch, hands gripping the cushion tightly as he watches. “You want a closer look, baby?”

He nods his head rapidly and you lift your hips to shove your panties down your legs, gathering them in your hand and tossing them at his face. The wad of fabric drops to his lap and he balls it up in his fist and brings it to his nose.

“Pervert,” you say affectionately. You hook your leg over the arm of the chair, spreading yourself wide for his gaze. You tease your clit with two fingers, trailing them lower to your entrance and dipping one inside, your head dropping back against the chair with your moan.

The sound of skin sliding over skin reaches your ears and when you look up, you find that Dieter has shoved his boxers down to where they now sit looked around his ankles, his thick cock caught in the tight grip of his fist. You lift your hand away, closing your legs and leaning forward with your eyes narrowed.

“Now, Dieter, I don’t remember saying you could touch yourself,” you say.

“Can’t touch you, can’t touch myself,” he whines, releasing his cock and gripping the couch cushion. “C’mon, baby. Please? I’ve missed yo—“

“Cut!” You yell. Dieter’s mouth snaps shut in surprise. “That wasn’t a very Oscar worthy performance, Di. I think you can do better than that.”

His blank stare morphs into heated understanding and you watch as he slowly slides from the couch and lands on his knees. He slips the robe from his shoulders, leaving him gloriously naked. You take a moment to appreciate the muscles of his chest and arms, his softer belly dusted with hair that draws your eye to his flushed cock and his strong thighs.

Then he starts to crawl.

Those big brown eyes of his look up at you with so much desperation and, dare you say it, adoration that your heart skips a beat as he moves closer. When he reaches your feet, he sits back on his heels and settles his hands on his thighs.

“Please, baby,” he murmurs. “Let me touch you. Let me show you how much I’ve missed you. You know me, my tongue is much better at giving you an orgasm than it is with words.”

“Fine,” you say, tone implying he’s inconveniencing you with his desire. He grins, his hands immediately grabbing at your thighs and tugging your ass to the edge of the seat. He positions your legs over each arm of the chair before diving in with his talented tongue, licking through your slick folds with practiced finesse.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, sucking your clit between his lips. “Your pussy is even better than that six course meal we had at that pretentious restaurant in Paris.”

“L’Arpege?” You gasp, fingers tangling in his hair. “You never told me you didn’t like it. I only picked it because of your two month experiment with veganism!”

“Wasn’t there for the fucking food,” he says. Two fingers press to your soaked entrance, sliding into your tight heat with little resistance.

Your head is spinning, stars bursting in your vision as his thick digits curl against your G-spot. His other hand presses on the top of your pelvis and the look in his eyes tells you exactly what his goal is.

“Dieter,” you say, his name a warning as you squirm beneath him. He grins up at you from between your legs.

“How’s my performance now?” He asks. “Oscar worthy yet?”

“Nominated at best,” you bite back through gritted teeth despite the pressure building in your core. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard, tongue flicking rapidly against the bundle of nerves until that pressure bursts as you cry out, “Oh, fuck!”

The orgasm he pulls from you is overwhelming and leaves you gasping, vision blurry as you look down at Dieter’s smug expression and dripping chin. He runs a hand over his chin, collecting your release on his palm and using it to ease the friction of his hand as it pumps his cock roughly.

“‘Nominated at best’,” he says, voice pitched higher to mimic yours. “Please, that was the performance of a lifetime.”

“Don’t get cocky, Di,” you mumble, planting a foot on his chest and pushing him back. He topples over, landing on his back with an oof.

You drop from the chair and crawl over his body, making sure to drag your soaked pussy across his cock. Your hands are planted on the floor on either side of his head and you stare down at his blissed out face as you rock over him.

Dieter’s hands grip your hips tightly. “Don’t good performances get awarded?” He asks, voice tight.

You reach down between your bodies to hold his cock steady, allowing you to sink down slowly, his thick length damn near splitting you open. You’ve missed this, the way he fills every inch of your hungry cunt, the way he looks at you like you’re the best damn thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

Which is saying something because the man knows art and is constantly surrounded by beautiful people but you’ve only seen this look when you’re alone with him, at the end of a long day on set or when you finally stumbled home together from a night out. It’s the way his eyes go soft and his touch grows reverent, fingertips gliding over whatever skin he can reach with a featherlight touch, and the combination wipes the dust off memories with him you’d been trying to forget and move on from.

“Dieter,” you say, voice shaky. You rock your hips, lifting slightly to your knees and relishing the drag of his cock inside of you before you slam your hips back down. “God, fuck, feel so good.”

“Your pussy was made for my fucking cock,” he says through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips tightly and encouraging each rock of your body. “Missed this, missed you, fuck. Love you so much.”

You stop abruptly, the man beneath you whining. You grip him by the chin as you ask, “You what?”

“I…uh…shit,” he mumbles. “I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Oh.” You let go of his face, sitting up straight. “I see.”

“No, no,” he rushes to say. “That’s not what I meant.”

It occurs to you that you’re still impaled on his cock and this doesn’t exactly feel like a conversation to be had in that position. You make a move to get up but strong hands hold you steady in his lap.

“I just meant,” he say, fingers flexing nervously against your thighs. “I didn’t mean to say it right now. Like…I wanted you to maybe not hate me for a bit before I professed my love or whatever.”

“I don’t get it,” you admit. “I thought you just texted me to hookup because you were in town.”

“I’m in town for you.”

“For me?”

Dieter nods. “I’m not good with words that aren’t written for me. Too much going on up here,” he says, tapping his forehead. “But I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we broke it off and I feel like that’s a cosmic sign that we’re meant to be or whatever.”

“Oh my god, you really are bad with words,” you say with a laugh. “Meant to be, huh?”

“Or whatever,” he finishes. “Marriage is a scam.”

“Right, right,” you murmur, rocking your hips the slightest bit. “Total scam.”

“It’s just a way for the governme—oh, fuck,” he says, words trailing off into a moan as you pick up your pace again, your hands on his chest to steady yourself. “Just like that, baby.”

“You’re lucky I missed you, too,” you tell him, gasping when his hips flex to meet yours. Your communication with each other devolves into moans and the movement of your bodies until the desperation you feel for one another reaches its peak.

Dieter wraps both arms around your lower back as you cum, holding you to him as your cunt squeezes around his cock. It’s only a moment before you feel him pulsing, warmth pooling inside of you as your orgasm starts to fade. You collapse against his chest, breathing heavily and listening to the rapid beat of his heart beneath your ear.

He rubs his hands up and down your back as you both catch your breath, sweat cooling between you in the chill of the hotel room.

“You wanna order pizza?” He asks. You turn your face into his chest, muffling your laughter into his skin.

“Absolutely.”

#dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter x reader #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo the bubble #the bubble fanfiction

380 notes · View notes

pinguwrites · 6 months

Note

more dark!reader with dilf!cillian who slowly accepts reader's tendencies🥹 it made me feel things

right away

Sweet, Little Girl | Cillian Murphy

Pairing -> cillian murphy x dark!reader

Summary -> You're Cillian Murphy's next door neighbor. You're young and innocent, and he's an attractive older man—surely he must be the one taking advantage of you . . . right?

Word count: 1k

Warnings: sexual content, DARK!!, MENTION OF DRUGGING AND RAPE, sub!cillian & dom!reader undertones, age-gap (reader's early twenties, cillian's early forties, cillian knew reader when she was underage but relationship started way after), use little girl/sir nickname, mention of daddy nickname, mention of marriage, reader's manipulative, pregnancy, mention of breeding

Disclaimer: This is not a reflection of Cillian Murphy's actual life. This is completely separate and is not intended to harm him or his family in any way. DNI if you're a Yvonne hater. This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

A/N: This is basically a part two to that first cillian fic

Cillian Murphy loved you, that much he knew. It didn’t matter what you did to him, how possessive you behaved, how cruel your love was, how wrong the things you did were; he loved you till he couldn’t, as strong as waves in a storm at sea, as bright and passionate as the sun’s unrelenting gaze. You were like a rose with thorns. As long as he had you, it was okay if he bled. After all, you would be there to patch him up — you always were.

“You won’t ever leave me, right?” you asked, curling up beside him in bed. Your face was illuminated by the moonlight, streaming in through the window, and he couldn’t help but admire you. Beautiful, beautiful thing.

“Never,” he murmured. “I don’t even want to think about that. I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

Cillian knew your relationship was unacceptable. He'd known you since you were a teenager. You were that darling sweetheart who lived next door, mature and thoughtful, the type that would listen to him monologue about his passion for acting, the one who would in turn trust him with her deepest, darkest secrets.

But you were an adult now. You were capable of making your own decisions, and you choose to be with him. Was it so wrong then?

"That's what I like to hear," you said, taking in a whiff of his scent, like you always did. Something about his cologne, you had explained. "And you're still okay with marriage, yeah?"

"Of course." Cillian leaned over and gave you a kiss on the nose. "I'll get to call you my wife." He lips trailed down to your own, his tongue sweeping over your skin. He wanted to touch you, to feel you, to have your body against his and show you how much you meant to him.

His breathing hitched when you hand reached down under the blanket to squeeze his cock. Only briefly, before you let go, like you hadn't done it at all.

"I'm glad you came to your senses," you said. "You were crying the first time we had sex."

The memory came back to him. He hadn't wanted to make you upset, but it was all just too much for him. You were milking him to the point where he wasn't sure if he had anything left to give, and he just couldn't handle it, his mind still hazed from the drugs. He wasn't sure if it was a dream or not, but when he woke up the next morning and got you a pregnancy test, he knew it wasn't.

The baby bump hadn't shown yet, but he knew it was going to soon. Cillian couldn't wait to place his ears to your belly, listening to the sounds of your future child. You had hurt him that day, but he didn't regret a single thing. It got him closer to you.

"You should have given me a warning. I was scared," he admitted, averting his gaze. "You scared me."

"I didn't mean to. I always thought you wouldn’t notice me. Well, you never did notice me." You gave a dry chuckle. “That’s why I had to be so forceful. I mean, you see me now, don’t you?”

“I always saw you,” Cillian replied softly. “But you know I couldn’t do anything. I couldn't risk loosing you. What if you didn't feel the same way?"

"You're so silly. Remember when I used to come to your house, dressed in nothing but a bathing suit? I would beg you to take me to the pool. Then I'd get you all alone in the hot tub . . . "

Cillian did remember. He always got so nervous when you came close to him, drifting through the water. You would place your hands up against his chest and flutter your eyelashes, claiming all you wanted was his comfort.

At the time, he had shrugged it off as a want for fatherly affection. Now he saw it for what it was.

"And I'd call you up in the middle of the night," you continued, running your fingers alone his collarbone. "'Oh, I can't sleep, Cilly. Can we talk?' And then we'd end up in your car, driving down lone roads in the cover of the night. We found that place, by the lake. I loved it there," you said wistfully. "We'd just sit for hours, with the sunroof open, gazing at the stars, listening to crickets and hooting owls . . . We should do that more often. I'll drive this time."

"No," he said sternly. "You shouldn't have to worry about that kind of stuff. I can handle it."

You giggled at his words and cuddled closer to him, draping your leg over his. "Whatever you say, sir."

You knew how worked up he got when you called him that. Of course, you were in charge. You never had to say it, it was just something you both accepted, but you still liked pretending he was the one in power. You'd call him 'sir' or 'daddy' — all in a playful manner, but you'd still say it nonetheless.

"Little girl," he cooed. "You're just the sweetest thing, aren't you?"

"Only for you," you flirted, letting your guard down. "You're the only one I'd do this with."

Cillian's heart warmed. "I know."

His eyes glanced to the clock on the wall. It was late, nearing midnight, and you had to get up early for college tomorrow. He had work as well. He had taken far too many sick days staying at home with you, talking about wedding plans, baby names, hell, even the most random things that could come to one's mind.

"Feeling tired?" he asked, caressing your cheek with a stroke of his finger.

"Kinda. Can we go to sleep now?"

It wasn't really a question. Cillian would say yes to whatever you wanted.

"Yeah. Goodnight," he breathed out, "I love you."

You smiled, a genuine smile, one filled with pure happiness. "Goodnight," you said back, your tone low. "I love you, too. More than you can ever imagine."

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

@meetmeatyourworst

@mrkdvidal1989

@nela-cutie

@obsessionandmadness

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #fanfiction #pinguwrites

331 notes · View notes

apocalypse-shuffle · 1 year

Text

RED HOOD | BATFAMILY (assorted canon)

────────────────────

“Long Overdue” (Jason Todd & Batmom!Reader) and (background Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)

| Reader was with Bruce in the past but grew distant after Jason’s death. No one tells her when he comes back from the dead until Bruce is forced to bring her in on a raid when they’re overwhelmed. -Jason and Batmom!Reader reunion.

| SFW, canon typical action/violence, cursing?, brief mention of suicidal thoughts

| This is like half fanon half UTRH/Batman:Hush. I’m really just fucking around with canon rn. Also the pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source - Batman: Three Jokers comic)

| 2k+ words

| parts: one, spurt, two, three, four, five, six/six point five, seven.

You brace your hands on your hips, stern twist to your features.

“I failed worse than I thought as a parent if you think a couple of dropped criminals is going to make me hate you-.”

“There’s way more than a couple,” he scoffs.

You’re swiping your hand through the air before Jason’s even finished, the furrow on your face mirroring his own perfectly.

“And I truly don’t give a fuck.”

Whatever he was about to say stops dead on the tip of his tongue and he balks, eyes widening a fraction.

“Ma…”

And it almost - it almost makes you laugh out loud. The way he says it.

The mirth that leaks into your voice can’t be helped. “Boy…” you shake your head. “Nothing about this situation is normal, your killing isn’t going to be the magic thing that throws me off. Plus, I have been looking into what you’ve been doing. I know you've killed people and honestly…I don’t care. The hero sticht was never for me, I have a code and it’s not Bruce’s, but at the end of the day none of that matters. Your choices are your own Jason.”

You swallow thickly before continuing, “You’re an…adult now, you don’t need my blessing.”

You won’t say it cause you know it’ll piss him off, but Jason didn’t operate in uncertainty the same as Bruce. So attempting to talk him out of a decision would’ve just been begging to have your time wasted. If Jason thought his way was what Gotham needed then that was the end of the discussion on his part. You only regret what facilitated the fundamental shift in his stance of what’s “necessary” to keep people safe.

In spite of what you've said Jason’s features go back to being steeped, brows meeting and jaw clenched.

“That’s- that’s true. I know that,” you hum an affirmative and his eyes flash to yours. You haven’t seen that look in years. Like he’s sizing you up. It makes the corners of your lips quirk that you get to see it at all. “Just making sure you know where I stand.”

Your brow raises.

“Uh huh,” you nod to yourself. You have an inkling about why exactly he felt the need to jump at telling you off. “Even if he gave you a hard time about what you're doing your father does still love you, you know?”

Jason shakes his head harder this time, almost snarling.

“He’s not my damn father.”

At his tone you stiffen too. The shift feels like a punch to the gut and you can’t help but react as if the hit was real. It almost feels like it was.

Jason hadn’t exactly been smiling before but if you’d thought he was being distant then, you’ve been shown for a fool now. All that grace he was giving you is completely gone.

“…,” you look over the harsh lines of his face, the way his upper lip curls, and it makes your chest ache. The conversation went worse than you thought then. Buildings blew up all the time in Gotham, and Jason didn’t seem too banged up but- “Alright. Okay, Jason, I’m just reminding you that he works in absolutes. His anger likely isn’t at you specifically, just your methods.”

He sighs out roughly and when he straightens completely out of your hold you have to swallow back a noise of protest. “I know that, but it shouldn’t excuse him.”

He crosses his arms.

“He left me,” he forces out. You squint, confused. “I was holding out for him and he left me for that damn clown. From what I gather Joker set off the explosives I tied him up with - which wasn’t my most well thought out plan but that’s not the point. The point is when it went off he didn’t save me. Bruce took the Joker and left me for dead. Not me and that green haired freak, just me. I woke up under piles of rubble by myself.”

Your face drops, you can feel it, and Jason definitely sees it by the way his scowl reappears.

“What, you don’t believe me? It’s too hard to reconcile the man you love being the type to leave me to die?”

You hold up a finger and Jason almost (almost) cusses you out, you can see it on his face, but five years away apparently didn’t stop your glare from being more effective than his. Batglare™️ be damned you were still his mother.

“Jason, Bruce has surprised me a lot today, but I’m not gonna take that out on you cause I know better. What I am gonna ask is that you not take that tone with me; if you do it again I’m walking out this room and we can try this another day.” You huff and relax back into the neutral position you were sporting before. “I understand you’re angry and- and I honestly don’t know why you aren’t more mad at me, but if this anger is not for me don’t take it out on me. Have I made myself clear?”

He doesn’t let his head duck like he might’ve years before. No, this time he stubbornly keeps eye contact but he can’t stop how a flush climbs all the way to the tips of his ears. He sighs, shoulders dropping.

“You’re right. I’m sorry Ma.” You inexplicably soften at his words and move to grab his hand, squeezing it and using your hold to pull him back in. He squeezes back the tiniest bit and you give him a closed mouthed smile. “You're being leagues more understanding than he was.”

“Well you are killing people Jay.”

“No. No, I’ve seen him treat Dent with more compassion and he kills. He murders. I watched him pick Joker over me. How am I less deserving than that monster? That doesn’t feel like absolutes or objectivity or whatever to me.”

Even in his quietness his voice crackles along the edges. You bite the inside of your lip. That was a good question. How did Bruce make that decision? Your brows move together. Your ex, even at his most logic driven, wouldn’t let that happen. Maybe with the Joker. He’d already tried the whole ‘I won’t kill you but I won’t save you either,” thing with the villain but this? Jason was nowhere close to Joker levels of bad. You can’t-

Looking at Jason now - Jason who’s genuinely letting you process what he just dropped on you - you cannot fantom what would possess Bruce to leave Jason to be overshadowed by death again. His son. Your fucking son. You sneer, teeth grinding together.

“I want to know what happened.”

Now is when Jason chooses to come back down. His anger going once more to the foreground in the face of your own rising temper.

“Ma…you don’t-”

“I do,” you stand up straighter. Jason’s schools his expression fast, but for a split second he was giving off the distinct impression of a teenager who just got caught in a lie and can’t figure out what gave them away. So where’s the lie? “Tell me.”

Jason blows air out of his nose and cuts you a slightly exasperated glare but he does start speaking.

“I- we fought. It wasn't exactly cute, we were both going hard, but the goal was leading him to where I had the Clown strung up, so I let him get more hits in than I probably should’ve.”

Jason pauses, looking over at you. You only nod, allowing him to move at his own pace. Jason’s only slightly expanding upon information you and everybody else privy to Gotham news already knows, but you doubt over the last couple years he suddenly turned pathological. Jason only ever lied out of omission when you lived in the manor so him keeping the fine details of what went down from you now didn’t ping nicely in the back of your mind.

“I begged him to let me kill Joker - for everyone’s sake,” he admits. Voice gaining levity as if he’s telling a particularly far-fetched joke before dropping back down. “I guess I should’ve known better, but I couldn’t believe it. That he’d just let Joker roam free after what he did to me - did to the hundreds of innocent lives he’s wiped off this planet. How could Batman let that go unpunished, you know? But I figured maybe he’d been holding out cause a what pixie boots me woulda done: saved the bastard despite everything for the sake of second chances.”

Another glance to you, but you don’t stop him so Jason keeps going. Voice quiet and more present yet no less intense.

“But he’s had enough second chances. We should’ve stopped giving them out to that sack of shit years ago but we didn’t, and that’s on us, but I was giving him a chance to rectify that and let me do it for everybody. To send him off to hell right where he belongs, and you know what he did instead?”

You hold his gaze even though it hurts seeing all that anger. All that betrayal.

“He chose Joker,” you say faintly.

“Yeah,” Jason nods. The smile he gives you is acidic. “He chose Joker. And I set him up for it, but only because B wouldn’t just get it over with. He just kept giving me every excuse in the book, cause apparently that was too hard of a decision to make for me. So screw it I made him pick between the two of us. Helped his indecision along. Let me kill Joker myself or kill me to stop me from killing him, since he wanted to save that monster so damn badly.”

“Jay,” you say, deflating.

A sharp shake of his head is all you get by way of acknowledgment for the assisted suicide he nearly instigated.

“Bruce’s solution? Sl-”

Jason stops. This time when he takes you in his eyes are far away, and he refuses to meet your gaze. A few deft beats before his mouth goes slightly agape but nothing comes out.

“Jason…?”

He chuckles, brushing you off. Nothing’s funny though and when he looks back to you there’s something new in his eyes you haven’t seen yet. An expression that distinctly brings you back to a fifteen year old calling to ask if you’d been lying to him too. If you’d known about Sheila Haywood the entire time and said nothing.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” He swallows, “It’s just…at the end I got…emotional. Reckless. Turned my gun on him and he threw a batarang into…into the muzzle and it exploded in my hand. Then in the confusion I guess Joker got free and set off the bombs…and you know the rest: I’m so good I cheated death a second time,” he smiles. Something too big and with too many teeth to seem real.

“I don’t know whether I’m happy about that ‘second time’ or not,” you hold out your other hand and when he steps to take hold of it a small grin tugs at your lips. “But that’s only cause I don’t think you know either.”

You also don’t feel like he’s telling you everything, but for now this was a battle you were willing to rage another day. As long as he was safe it could wait.

Jason’s own smile shrinks to something more genuine.

“Maybe not today, Ma.”

“Yeah, I got you,” you say. “I’m tired of crying anyway.”

There is - after all - still a draft hitting your eyes that you are hopelessly ignoring the feel of. Jason grins.

“Well I’m starting to get a little faint myself so maybe you’re onto something, Old Lady.”

For a second you stop smiling, shooting him a cross look and sucking your teeth. He backs away from you to scoop up his helmet with a lighter, more real chuckle.

“Oh am I, smartass?” You turn around and knock him on the shoulder, urging him out the door while he gives an exaggerated ‘ouch!’. “See, I’ll show you old since you think you big and bad now that you can reach the top shelf.”

Despite the lighter air you’ve managed Jason only keeps laughing for as long as it takes him to reach the door. Once he opens it he freezes before he walks all the way through and turns back to you.

“I’m sorry about…everything. By the way.” Standing on the threshold with the smallest little frown on his face, he looks like a boy again and you smile at that warry frown.

Shrugging in between rows of grappling guns and prototype pellets you shake your head, rolling the stiffness from your shoulders and letting the twinge from the wound in your arm ground you.

“Don’t worry about me, I get it. If one confrontation went to absolute shit why wouldn’t the other? Trust though, with the situation at hand Bruce is my problem not you.” You point at him. “But you better call me after this.”

Jason stays looking at you silently then gives you one nod and slips that helmet right back on. Inwardly you protest the action but outwardly you content yourself with nodding back.

When he turns away and you can’t see anything but reinforced tact gear and shiny red you find your mouth opening again.

“Love you,” you call out. Just so he knows you never stopped.

His voice is soft over the modulation of the helmet when he responds with a: “Thanks Ma,” then you can’t see him anymore.

…TBC

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

Also, I’m thinking about going on hiatus after finishing Long Overdue to give myself a break and shit, so yeah. I’ll (probably) come back on some unspecified date in July though so it’s not like I’ll even be gone for that long. Or like most people give a shit, but whatever.

Also also, I don’t know if I hit the mark and if the feelings were feeling, you know? But I made an attempt, I think that’s commendable.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

Tagged: @aarinisreading, @niphredil-14, @mxtokko, @calsjack, @brunnetteiwik

426 notes · View notes

themainreactor · 5 months

Text

"I think I love you, but I can't bear to use you and then just go away."

In which, Shoto is not sure that he loves you and can't help but feel guilty when he plans to marry you. He feels like he's just using you to anger his father for the stupid things he's done in the past and he's sure that you're just too kind for that.

You were a quirkless girl dating a strong boy.

However, you were kind and hardworking, an enjoyable person to be around.

Somehow, you caught the attention of not just any person, but a future hero.

You were the bare minimum. Yet, somehow he wanted to be around you as much as he could.

His mother says that it's love, but he's not sure.

It wasn't like the two of you were even sleeping together so it couldn't be anything like lust right? You and Shoto just decided that dating was an option and that it could be a good idea.

So you could say that he's been trying to do this the right way, trying to make sure that you stay with him. Since you were such a gentle person, it was easy to navigate the relationship.

Logically speaking, there was no point in him leaving you. The two of you didn't fight, and you had to be one of the sweetest people he's ever met before.

Unfortunately there was this... One problem, something that made him want to propose to you on a whim.

That one problem. That stubborn, stupid, annoying, absolutely anger inducing problem.

His father.

He disapproved of you greatly and oh how Shoto wished from time to time that his father would just croak and die.

It angers him knowing that his father will still try and control his life even when he becomes an adult. He knows that his father has changed, and he's grateful, he's forgiving him as much as he can.

But why did he have to ask about you?

How did he even know about you? He was sure he hadn't been vocal about you to anyone in his family besides his mother. How did he find out that you were quirkless? How did he find out you weren't even in UA? How did he find out any of that crap?!

They had an argument and he was pissed, so what better way to revel in revenge than to use his father's credit card to pay for your engagement ring?

... Maybe that was too far... Like 'way outta pocket' too far.

After all, that would mean that the ring wasn't really bought with love... It was a haste decision and it didn't come from just him, it came from him trying to prove his father wrong. He's only known you for like a year and a half.

And now here he was, almost three months later with a ring, a simple yet really pretty ring in a small white box. He knew that you liked very simple jewelry, so it was all good... At least that's what he keeps telling himself.

You were kinda like his friend Uraraka in that aspect... Well that would be stereotypical wouldn't it? Not that he could even bring himself to care when he had way too many questions in his head.

Should he wait? Or should he propose to you now? Should he just break up with you entirely for your sake of not being involved with his father?

If he was going to propose it would be really fast, but if he was really going to have to make it romantic.

... Right?

Dear Lord, please help him because he was about to lose his mind!

He wants to prove to his father that he can make his own decisions. He can do what he wants, and he'll do as he pleases. If he wants to marry a quirkless, poor and possibly naive girl, he'll do that!

He wants to marry this girl... He's sure he wants to at least stay with this girl, this lovely girl. This beautiful girl that's gently yet vigorously caught his heart in a glittery, golden grasp out of nowhere.

He doesn't want her to ever let his heart go, and he wants to earn hers. He wants to make her happy because even though he's confused, he wants to believe it's love.

He loves you, but then his father comes to mind. Every. Single. Time.

"Every... Damn... Time." He grumbles, clearly frustrated at what his mind wouldn't allow him to settle.

"Are you okay?" Momo asks, watching as he curses and hunches over the kitchen counter.

"I'm... Fine." Shoto replies, briefly looking at her before he looks back at the floor.

Maybe he should ask Mina or Kirishima. Maybe even Midoriya would know something about this, after all, he did help him with his fire quirk.

If he was being honest, you knew almost nothing about his terribly raised life but he knew your family and they were lovely.

Your father had to be the calmest man he had ever met. At first, due to his rough exterior, it scared him, that was until he saw him laughing and Shoto couldn't help but laugh with him.

Your brother was a nightmare at first, ready to kill him in an instant if he dared harm you. But it seemed like he got off on the right foot and after a while of investigation, your brother deduced that he was in the clear.

But he hadn't invited you to meet anyone in his family.

Damn it! His father seemed to ruin everything!

Quickly Shoto started walking to the door to put his shoes on, trying to ignore the sudden feeling he had of lightheadedness. He probably needed some iron.

"Are you sure you're okay? Maybe you should drink some tea, I'm sure something stressful is on your mind."

Momo... That rich ass Asian. Momo's rich ass family made him look so poor it was ridiculous. Momo, always calm, smart, and a strong quirk to back her up. Momo, in his father's eyes, would be a logical choice for dating let alone marriage.

But that's what angered him so much.

Shoto could care less about Momo or his father, so why was he always thinking about what his father would think? About every single situation, he was thinking about what his father would see as good or bad.

He was absolutely livid by it.

"I'm fine, thanks." Was all he said as he left the UA dorms, not caring if he startled his classmates. He was a man on a mission and for some reason, he was going to follow this through like the dumbass he was.

I mean, he would have to, he bought the ring off of that stupid card. Hopefully it would ruin his dad's credit.

He continued walking but his mind wouldn't leave him alone. He was almost scared and definitely annoyed. He wanted to punch something, literally anything.

Maybe he should steal one of Bakugou's romance novels, that way he could figure out what to do in this situation that wouldn't place him in jail for harassment or attempted murder.

He was speed walking off the campus, clearly making everyone uncomfortable since Shoto was always stoic and calm. He pulled out his phone in hopes that he could call someone, but now that he thought about it...

He should just go see you, he shouldn't even warn you he's coming since it would be a surprise.

He was actually going to marry you. Technically he couldn't legally since he knew his father wouldn't allow it and since he was still a minor, he would have to wait until he was older.

But he was going to make you his fiance... Possibly. There was no real way to determine whether or not you would say yes.

Were you as delusional as him that you would say yes?

Crap, he knew he had love for you since he first talked to you. He had always seen you, either working at the coffee shop or hanging out at the skate park. But the question was, did he love you? He knows he has love for you, but that's different isn't it?

He would just take you to meet his siblings tonight, how hard would that be? They had invited him to dinner tonight and it would be a surprise for everyone. Oh damn it, damnit, damnit! Why was he feeling so frustrated and scared at the same time?!

You remind him of a rose, a rose he feels can harm him if he touches it too roughly because it has thorns. But at the same time, he feels that if he is not gentle enough, he will cause the rose to wither or break.

Damn his father! He blames everything on him, otherwise it's his own fault and he can't bear it being his fault.

He doesn't want to be the one to leave you hurt and in pain, but if he pretends to love you, won't that also hurt you? What in the world is he supposed to do?!

Before Shoto knows it, he's walking up the stairs to the apartment that you share with your family. If you weren't there, you were probably still at school or at the skate park since you didn't work today.

Why is he so scared to knock on the door? Is it because of what he's been thinking or because he's about to touch the rose that might harm him or die on him?

"Don't touch the dress!- Oh, Hi Shoto! I didn't know you were coming." You greet, opening the door and allowing him to enter the apartment before yelling at your older brother again.

"Don't touch it! I'm almost done making it so stooppp!" You yell in annoyance, only for your brother to laugh and scoot away from the dress.

"Hey dude! Our dad's not home so don't act up." Your brother greets, gaining a nod from him before he sits down next to you as you make the dress.

It was a beautiful dress, one that would fit you or any other woman perfectly, Shoto almost forgot that you liked to make clothes. It seemed to be more of a hobby than a career though, even with the talent you had.

"Can I ask you a question?" Shoto asks, watching your hands caress the dress as you sew a small gem on it. He kinda wishes you would caress him like that... Wait, was that a good thing to think?

Shoto was almost sweating at how nervous he was, there was no damn way he was going to break up with you in this house, no way was he going to propose to you in this house either.

What question did Kaminari say was good for relationships? Would you love me if I was a worm right?

... What type of question was that?

"Sure, what is it?" You start, biting on the needle to finish something before placing your sewing kit and needle off to the side.

"What in the hell?!" Your brother yells, looking at his phone before walking towards you in a haste.

"Carrie Underwood is pregnant!"

"... Who again?" You question, tilting your head to the side as he gets his shoes on. Clearly you weren't familiar with the celebrity and neither was Shoto.

"The country singer stupid! I have to go on a run or something! Otherwise I'm going to cry! I can't believe she's pregnant, now she's gonna stay with Mike forever!" Was all he could yell out before he almost collapsed and cried.

"Doesn't she live in America? She doesn't even know you!"

Chaos... Chaos was what you two were. Sibling chaos that Shoto wasn't used to. Maybe if Touya was alive, he would be that way with him.

"Would you like to come on a dinner date with me?"

Here we go.

"... Really? Sure! when would we be going?" You ask, moving the dress to the side.

"... Right now." Shoto replies, trying his best to keep his breathing to a minimum. His heart was beating way too fast and he didn't like it.

"Right now? Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

You were surprised indeed since it was usually you who initiated dates and hangouts with him. In fact, you were almost too stunned to speak. Almost.

You look towards your brother but you can already tell that he is still traumatized.

"Whatever, go take care of your hubby sis." He waved off, walking into the living room as he continued to look at his phone.

"I'm not dressed for anything nice though."

"Doesn't matter." Shoto commented, shrugging his shoulders while looking at your attire. You actually looked pretty nice, regular jeans with a Bob Ross painting shirt.

He remembers when you told him who Bob Ross was and he was immediately hooked with the painting man. Of course until he almost cried when he found out that Bob Ross had died before he was even born.

"Yes it does, I can't have you looking prettier than me."

That was nice, he liked hearing you call him pretty.

He just shrugs his shoulders again with a soft smile, allowing you to quickly run into your room to get ready. You come back about a minute later in a nice, sundress and a white dress jacket to put over.

He mostly didn't care, especially since he was just in a pair of jeans and a shirt. He did also have a plain, blue button down shirt over but how did that make him look any more ready for a date than you?

You did look very pretty.

"Bye!" You yell towards your brother, him giving a small wave in response while he still tries to use his phone to figure out if he can be a part of this family Carrie Underwood is making.

"Let's go." Was all Shoto said as he took your hand, leading you out of the apartment and letting you lock the door behind you.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes, what is it?" Shoto asks, turning his head to look at you only to be met with a concerned expression.

"Are you okay? I'm not asking if you're sick or anything but are you feeling alright?"

He liked when you asked if he was okay... Now that he thinks about it, he likes a lot of things that you do around him.

"I'm fine... I just wanted to surprise you, I know you're always doing that for me." He starts, lightly rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. It calmed him, he didn't know whether or not you liked it, it was a small way of showing affection.

"So I thought I would do it for you this time."

"... That's sweet, thank you."

...

'Why is it so Japanese?!' Was all you could think as you stood in front of his house.

"My siblings names are Fuyumi and Natsuo."

"Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! I'm not ready for this!" You squeak out, trying to calm yourself down by hiding behind Shoto's back. He had to refrain from laughing but he didn't think this would make you so nervous.

"You look okay, I'm sure you're ready."

"I would have dressed in something more formal than this if I knew we would be visiting your family!"

"Don't worry." He chuckled out, placing his hand on top of your shoulder in a side hug.

"It's just my siblings and plus, they don't know that you're coming either so it's a surprise for everyone."

"Alright... Alright... I can do this, it's all good." You whispered, making Shoto feel a bit bad from the sight of your nervousness.

Shoto finally opened the door, already hearing the chatter of his sister and her silent yelling at Natsuo to behave.

"Shoto, is that you?" Fuyumi asks, opening the sliding door that was inside before stopping in surprise at the guest.

"Yes... I brought a guest with me." He barely spoke out, his voice sounding quite foreign to him. He must be too nervous.

"That's great! The table will feel fuller now, my name's Fuyumi, I'm Shoto's sister." The woman greets herself, hardly able to contain her excitement about it.

Fuyumi knew damn well who you were, after all, she also visited mother and it's not like her mother kept secrets from her family.

"It's nice to meet you Fuyumi." You reply, lightly taking her hand and giggling at her puppy dog eyes. Clearly she liked guests and company. Shoto's happy that both of you seem to like each other.

"Come on inside." Fuyumi waves, allowing you and Shoto to fully enter the house.

"Natsuo, we have a guest." Fuyumi calls out, opening the dining room and not finding him before retreating to the kitchen.

"Another one other than Shoto?

"Yeah! I wouldn't be calling Shoto a guest, and be nice to her."

Shoto chuckled, leading you to the table to sit down next to him. This was good. He didn't have to worry about anything for now.

He didn't have to worry about his father, he didn't have to worry about the ring. He knew that he was just being hyper about it.

"Whatever... Wait, her?" Natsuo yells out, questioning his sister before entering the room and seeing you.

If he was a girl he would have squealed from how cute you were sitting next to his little brother. But he didn't so instead he decided to just smile and wave. He could afford to be nice and not scare you off.

"I'll be right back." Shoto starts, standing up before you lightly tapped on the back of his hand.

"Do you want me to help?" You asked with a cute face, wanting to make a good impression.

"No, thank you." Shoto replied, not being able to keep away a small smile from you because of how cute you were. He walked into the kitchen to help but instead he was quietly bombarded by his two siblings instead.

"She's so cute!" Fuyumi whisper yells, quickly hugging onto Shoto before Natsuo pushes her away to state something else.

"She's a keeper, have you been sleeping with her by any chance?"

What type of question was that?

"... No... Why?"

"Good, you haven't done it yet. I can give you some tips if you want." Natsuo starts, ruffling Shoto's hair before he smacks his hand away.

"No, gross." Shoto rolls his eyes, helping Fuyumi with the food that she made to bring onto the dining table.

As the three of them helped set the table, You of course helped where you could even though you didn't have to before you all sat down.

"So... You like jazz?" Natsuo asks, being fully serious even with his teasing mannerisms.

"Natsuo, don't be pushy!" Fuyumi scolds, hitting her elbow into his side. He only let out a grunt in response but didn't let up on what he thought was him being welcoming.

"What?! I was being serious, I want to know more about you if you're my brother's girlfriend."

"Yes, I do like jazz." You reply with a laugh, trying not to be rude since he just got his ribs attacked by his sister.

"Do you like anything else in particular?" Fuyumi asks, suddenly getting more curious and Natsuo sees that as an opening for him to tease her.

"Who's all pushy now?"

"Oh stop it."

Shoto really was happy. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, however he liked the way that you interacted with them.

Even though he could tell throughout the night that you were a bit stiff with how you talked and acted, you eventually loosened up and it seemed to just come natural.

Until of course, a problem occurred.

Of course a problem like this had to happen and now he was all worried again.

That stubborn, stupid, annoying, absolutely anger inducing problem that he didn't need.

"You told me he would be working the whole night." Shoto calmly stated, listening as he heard the door of the house unlock and open.

"I thought he wouldn't be here! He didn't say anything to us."

"Damn he's gonna be all fatherly now, how riveting."

"Natsuo!"

"What?! I don't wanna stay here for that crap!"

As calm as Shoto was acting, he was internally in fear of his mental sanity and the possibility of dying on the spot from stress. But he knew he needed to be calm for your sake since you didn't know him.

"Hey dad, do you want me to set up a new place for you on the table?" Fuyumi asks, standing up and watching her dad take off his shoes before walking away.

"Sure, I just have to wash up."

Damn his voice was deep, and not only that, it sounded horse. Probably from how much he may or may not have been yelling from his job.

For now, reaching out to touch his hand with your own from under the table would have to do in order to calm yourself down.

Shoto thought it was cute, but he didn't really have much time to reminisce on you when he had to figure out how he was gonna explain all of this. He didn't tell his father he would be bringing you.

Before he even knew it there was his father, barely registering that you were there until he sat down. When he did notice you, he wasn't sure how to react, although he wasn't even really surprised.

"Hello." Enji greeted you in a calm voice. At some point he knew his son would bring home this girl and as he recalled it, he said that ' he wouldn't mind marrying her it would make him shut the hell up'.

"... Hello..." You respond with a small smile, completely disregarding the fact that you felt like you were about to throw up.

"So... You are the girlfriend?" Enji starts, raising an eyebrow in your direction and then looking at Shoto.

"Yes sir." You nodded your head.

"Well, I guess we should talk about some things then."

It looked like both Shoto and his father were communicating with their facial expressions and Shoto wasn't having it. He was going to leave soon if he didn't stop about this because he was too embarrassed.

"About what?" You question, tilting your head a little bit at the staring contest the two were having.

"A talk that's been long overdue about this relationship you have with my son."

Now you were scared and Shoto was about to lose his shit. Mostly this was still due to the fact that his father still didn't know that he bought that engagement ring even after three months.

Not that you needed to know that just yet. It's his father's fault for not checking his money.

"As far as I'm concerned, the conversation doesn't even need to happen." Shoto butts in with a calm tone, glaring at his father with an unreadable expression.

Damn, you were jealous of his calmness, you almost felt like you couldn't speak. Yet it made you wonder even with his stoic nature, he would glare at his father with such intensity.

"Yes it does Shoto, it was going to happen sooner or later and if it happened later than now, there would be a chance that you would actually stay with her."

Ouch.

Godsmack, what a strange word. Who even allowed such a word as Godsmack to exist?

You could think about that instead of the lump in your throat or the sweat collecting at the palm of your hands that you were trying to wipe away on your dress.

"As I was saying, I'm sure you know my son's going to UA."

"Yes sir, a school for heroes." You nod, staring at your lap before looking at him. Your stomach hurts and it's annoying, you almost felt like you were on your period.

"With that being said, I just don't think that this relationship is even reasonable to begin with." He added on, looking at you with a straight face.

The only reason Natsuo was still here was because of this specific conversation. He was just waiting for Shoto to rip him up.

"Because I'm poor?" You plainly stated, surprising Enji with how quickly you wanted to figure out the issue.

"No that's not it, it's just that there's a lot of stress when you're training to be a professional."

"Right... Does it have anything to do with me being quirkless?"

Now Natsuo was interested, so was Fuyumi but she was able to hide it a bit better.

"No-"

"Well that's gotta be part of it isn't it?" Shoto asks, sounding sarcastic with his words.

"Shoto, don't start-"

"Don't start what? I already said that whatever you say, I'm staying with her."

"And what's your reason for staying with her?"

"Because... I can, I don't have to give you a reason."

"That's what I'm trying to say." Enji comments, sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"See... I wasn't the best father when my kids were growing up... That's an understatement, I was a terrible father."

And now you're not sure if you feel uncomfortable, or glad that Enji is trying to actively explain his thought process. It seemed like he was trying to fix something.

"So, unfortunately my son likes to do things that I disapprove of. All I'm hoping is that Shoto isn't dating you just because he knows I don't like it."

"That's enough." Was all Shoto said as he stood up. He was done with it because if he stayed any longer, he was going to burn the dining table down.

"Shoto, do you really see yourself with this girl in the future?"

Ouch... Again.

"Whether I do or not is none of your business!"

"I am not trying to control you but you have to think for once about this." He continues, sighing but refusing to raise his voice at the boy.

"What am I supposed to be thinking about?!"

"The fact that it's not a good idea to mess with someone's feelings because you're mad at me."

"I wasn't even mad at you until you brought this up!"

"If you're willing to interfere in someone's life because of me, then you should reconsider how you feel about that person."

"This doesn't have anything to do with you! I'll be with her because I want to be!"

"So it has nothing to do with me then?"

"No! Not everything revolves around you!

"As I recall-"

"I don't care what you recall! I'll do what I want and marry whoever the hell I want!"

Marry? How cute, he misspoke and accidentally said he'd marry you... Wait.

"... Marry?" Enji asks, giving him a quick side eye before looking down at his untouched food.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, he slipped up! Lord have mercy he suddenly felt scared for his life.

"... I meant date... But that doesn't even matter because you're not getting the point!" Shoto yells, completely disregarding what he said.

Natsuo gasps, faintly remembering a bought engagement ring on a specific credit card that belonged to his father.

Fuyumi and Shoto both looked at him with a questionable stare, wondering why he sounded like he remembered something.

"That was a slip up wasn't it?" Natsuo asks and immediately Enji looks at Shoto with an almost disappointed yet angered expression. But at this moment, Shoto felt like he was caught in the biggest scandal since his mom poured hot water on his face.

"No, I misspoke-"

"No you didn't because three months ago-"

"Don't you dare." Shoto glared, suddenly feeling betrayed by his brother who knew about it and didn't confront him beforehand.

Natsuo wasn't speaking out on this because he was suddenly siding on his father's side. It was because he didn't think that his brother was even prepared for this, and he assumed that his father had bought the ring.

Obviously not.

"What?" Enji asks, looking between the two as Natsuo stands up.

"Three months ago there was this charge on your account for a very expensive piece of jewelry."

And he was gone, Shoto immediately helped you up and went to go leave, gaining a concerned yelp from Fuyumi at how fast he was going.

"Shoto! Don't leave! What was it?!"

"Look at it yourself." Natsuo just shrugs his shoulders, his father is too quick to pull out his phone and try to figure out what was bought.

Natsuo quickly waves you and Shoto away since he knew his father was going to throw a big ass fit while

Fuyumi almost cried from the now ruined dinner. This was like the fifth time the last two months that something would happen. So you waved at her with a small smile in hopes of making her feel better.

Quickly Shoto takes your hand and literally books it out of the house. Once he closes the door when you come out, you can't even stop him as he keeps running.

"Shoto! I can't run as fast as you, what's going on?" You pant out, trying to catch up to him as he keeps running at a fast pace.

He's just literally running down the street of the neighborhood, like he was going to end up somewhere better.

"Shoto! You're acting like a teenager!" You yell, as if it was some sort of bad thing or insult.

"I am a teenager." He replies, watching as you sigh and bend over to try and catch your breath.

"What's going on Shoto? And why are you running?" You question in annoyance, looking at the direction in which the two of you ran from and then back at him.

"Do you love me?" Shoto asks out of the blue, not knowing what else to say.

"Yes but that's not-"

"I'm sorry." He interrupted, not daring to look at you right now. He felt ashamed and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"... Sorry about what?"

"I'm scared because I think my old man's right. I'm not sure if I'm dating you because I love you or if I just hate him so much."

For some reason, watching him look down at the ground, almost as if he was formally apologizing to you made you feel sad for him.

"What do you mean?" You reply, trying to take his hand only for him to move away.

"I bought an engagement ring for you off of my father's credit card."

"... What?!"

"I did it because I wanted to prove to him that I will do what I want without his approval." He states, briefly looking up at you before looking back down. He was definitely ashamed.

"But, I'm worried because I didn't do it... For you... I did it in spite of him... I think he was right."

He took the stupid small white box out of his pocket and handed it to you. It was most definitely not a proper proposal but Shoto had no intention of proposing to you this way.

This was a declaration, that he was scared, that he wanted help from you because he wanted this relationship to be about you and him.

Not his father.

"I hate my father, so much." He started, finally looking at you and showing you how broken he was.

He was crying and you had never seen him do that before.

"I don't want to hate him, I want to forgive him... I want to love you, I think I love you. But I can't bear to just use you to make my father mad and then leave you."

"Do you want to leave me?" You ask, wanting to give him some sort of comfort, whether it be a hug or a kiss or something.

"No! But... I don't... I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to end up like him."

That was the real issue wasn't it?

He wasn't angry at his father for disapproving of you, he was upset when he bought the stupid ring. He didn't trust that he wouldn't end up like his father.

He blames everything on his father, his mother being in the hospital, his scar, his quirk, maybe even you. But he doesn't want to end up like him, he never wants that to happen.

He doesn't want to have a child that blames everything on him because he wasn't a good enough dad.

"Please... I... I don't know what to do." Shoto mumbled, finally getting engulfed by your embrace and holding on. He hoped that maybe, there was some sliver of a chance that this was actually love.

His mother says this is love, but he's still not sure. It wasn't like his parents love... Maybe it was its own love right? His own love. He prays it is because he doesn't want to leave you.

"I'm sorry!" He cries into your shoulder, trying to stop himself as he fully breaks down. How in the world was he going to keep you if he was like this.

"It's okay, cry as much as you need to."

And he cried for a bit, not too long because he didn't want to get your dress wet, but enough so that he could stop.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what to do."

"It's okay, I think that you'll be a great man someday okay? So just try your hardest to keep on and I think you'll be okay, we're all only human after all."

He forgot about you being so comfortable. He knew you were one to forgive everyone. You still put healthy boundaries around you but you would be the type of person to forgive his father.

You rubbed his back a little bit before letting him go. You swear you tried to be serious in this moment but instead you cackled like an idiot.

"I can't believe you bought this off of your dad's credit card!" You yelled out, bursting in laughter as you gave him another hug.

It wasn't that big of a deal... Well it was but he wasn't going to die.

"Here." You start, handing him the box only for him to push it back you.

"I may have bought it because of my dad... But I bought it for you." He starts, wanting you to keep it as he wipes his cheek.

"I'm not saying that I'm ready for anything like marriage yet... But I would like you to keep it for now."

"Okay sir." You chuckled, taking a hold of his hand and walking with him. That was until you felt pain in your side.

"Damn you made me run." You grumble as you hold your side, causing Shoto to laugh at you and start running away.

"Don't screw around with me!" You yell, trying to catch up with him by just jogging.

"I'm just running." He laughed, turning around as he watched you sit down on the road and eventually roll over on your back.

Shortly, Shoto sits down on the road and lays down next to you, watching the sky and hopefully calming himself down.

"It's so quiet in your neighborhood."

"Yeah... It is, almost no one is around."

"Hey, can you promise me something?" You ask Shoto, turning in his direction and looking at him with a soft smile.

"What is it?" He looks in your eyes and for some reason, he feels warm even though it's kinda cold outside.

"If you do lose feelings for me, please tell me, that way I know."

"Wouldn't that hurt you?" He asked, feeling nervous from the sudden question.

"Yes, but it would hurt less than you lying to me." Was all you said as you looked back up into the sky.

"... Alright, I promise."

"If you don't lose feelings for me, then maybe you can marry me with the ring."

"Sure." He blushes, thinking about how stupid he was to buy the thing.

"At least it's a nice box."

"Haha! You like just the box?" Shoto questions, giggling as you sit up and look at the box.

"Yeah, I haven't opened it yet... Can I open it?"

"Yeah."

You slowly open the box as if there would be a spider in it before you fully opened it and saw it.

It was a very pretty ring, it had a small, dark blue gemstone right in the middle of it. It was the shape of a circle and you could see the small crystal placements on the band around the blue gem.

"It's beautiful... How much did it cost?"

"About a quarter of a million."

"What?! You gotta give it back while you still have time to do so!" You wheeze out, almost dying at that moment from how much he paid...

Well, how much his father paid for the ring.

"No... I want you to have it, even if I don't marry you."

"I can't possibly keep-"

"Please... Please keep it." Shoto replied sitting next to you and unfortunately looking at you with the cutest yet serious expression.

How could you say no to the poor baby?!

"... Okay."

"Alright."

"..."

"Hey... I think I love you."

"I love you too Shoto."

...

"Did anyone plan on doing hero work today!?" Ida asks, chopping his hands around with a loud voice to get everyone's attention.

"Um... No, why would we do that when it's Sunday?" Mineta comments as he rolls his eyes at the question.

"Well, it seems as though someone is scheduled with Endeavor today, Todoroki do you know anything about this?!"

All of a sudden, Shoto chokes on his drink. He looks like a sheet of paper pail and he can't hide behind you because you're at work and he's at the dorms.

"Shit." Shoto mumbled out, immediately tossing the plastic cup he had in the trash and not bothering to answer any questions.

His dad probably wanted that ring.

"Um dude, you good?" Kaminari watches as Shoto puts his shoes on and tries to think of an escape route.

"Damn, Endeavor looks mad, what happened?!" Mina yells out to Todoroki as he runs into the elevator, smacking his head on the closed walls before grumbling and heading to the stairs.

"Todoroki-kun what did you do?!"

Quickly Midoriya runs after Shoto to stop him, followed by Bakugou who really didn't want to be doing hero work on the weekend.

"It's too early for this in the morning damn Icy Hot! I'm not doing patrol so what the hell did you do!"

"I may or may not have spent a lot of money for an engagement ring on my dad's credit card."

"An engagement ring!?" Almost everyone in the commen room yells out, absolutely baffled at what they just heard.

Who you tryna marry?!" Bakugou asks, almost flabbergasted at what he just said.

"... No one, I just wanted to piss him off since it was a lot of money."

Don't worry, he'll tell them all about you later.

"Like how much?" Midoriya can't help but ask. He shouldn't have asked.

"Like... A quarter of a million."

Midoriya has to cover his mouth to refrain from choking on his own tongue while Bakugou can't help but laugh.

Unfortunately his laugh had to be a full on cackle.

"I didn't think you were one for chaos icy hot! I'll help you do whatever now! You can jump out my window for all I care!"

"Then please help me with that." Shoto almost begs, not willing to deal with his mistakes just yet.

"Gladly you half and half bastard!"

"Todoroki-kun you make us look poor!" Uraraka cryed out as she leans against the couch while being comforted by Tsyu.

"Bakugou man, we can't condone this! Let him be a man and face what he did wrong head on!" Kirishima yells, trying to stop them as both Shoto and Bakugou run up the stairs.

"He's right Kacchan, we can't just-"

"Shut up Deku! I know what I'm doing!"

137 notes · View notes

slvthrs · 1 year

Note

protective vinnie who gets pissed as hell when innocent gf starts vaping??

ofc my wonderful baby

NICOTINE BUZZ | vinnie hacker

PROTECTIVE BF!VINNIE X FEM!READER

WARNINGS: NOT NSFW BUT THIS IS A NSFW BLOG SO MINORS BE CAREFUL, angst and fluff, arguing, mentions of addiction, fighting, making out to make up, not proof read oops

word count: 1.2k

You're what Vinnie would call a toothache, too sweet and innocent for your own good and that's what fascinated him about you. You were so different to everyone else around him and for some reason the instinct to protect you kicked him full force.

That's why he would never assume you would fall into the same addiction as he did.

Your friends introduced you to it, and you found it helped you relax and unwind after a long day. You didn't see any harm in it, and you thought it made you look cool.

However, your boyfriend Vinnie didn't see it that way. He was always overprotective of you, and he was especially upset when he found out you had started vaping. He thought it was dangerous and unhealthy, and he didn't want you to get addicted to nicotine.

At first, you didn't understand why Vinnie was so upset. You thought he was just being overly controlling, and you didn't see the harm in vaping. But as you continued to use your vape, you started to notice some negative effects. You found yourself getting more irritable and short-tempered, and you had trouble concentrating.

Vinnie tried to talk to you about it, but you brushed him off. You didn't want to admit that he was right, and you didn't want to give up something that you enjoyed. But deep down, you knew that Vinnie was just looking out for you.

But one day, you're sitting on the couch, your vape hanging lowly out of your mouth as you puff out clouds of cherry flavored smoke, when Vinnie walks in. He sees you and immediately furrows his brows. "What are you doing?" he asks, his tone stern.

You tried to defend yourself, saying that you weren't doing anything wrong, that it was just harmless fun.

Vinnie shakes his head, his eyes full of concern. "You know that stuff is not good for you, right? It's still nicotine, and it can harm your lungs and your heart. Plus, it's addictive. I don't want you to get hooked on it."

You roll your eyes, feeling defensive. "I know all that. But it's not like I'm smoking cigarettes or anything. It's just a little vape."

Vinnie sighs, sitting down next to you. "Look, I know you're an adult and can make your own decisions. But I care about you, and I don't want you to hurt yourself. Can you at least try to cut back on the vaping? For me?"

He continues taking your hand into his. "I know I vape too, but I don't want you to do it. I care about you, and I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

You stare at him for a moment, feeling guilty for making him worry. Finally, you nod. "Okay. I'll try to cut back. But it's not easy."

Vinnie was always overprotective of you, and he had every right to be. He cared about you deeply and didn't want anything to harm you, including vaping. Even though he himself vaped, he saw the harm in it and wanted you to quit.

You promised him that you would quit, but it wasn't easy. You found yourself craving the nicotine hit and missing the feeling of the vapor in your lungs. Vinnie kept reminding you of your promise, and it started to annoy you.

And that promise lasted for about a week before you found yourself crashing back into old habits, but this time you were careful not to do it around him.

And sadly, this time, it wasn't just a gentle reminder, but a full-on argument. He accused you of not caring about your health and not keeping your promise to him.

"Are you serious right now?" he asked, his voice laced with anger. "You know how bad that stuff is for you, right?"

You shrugged, taking another puff from your vape. "It's not that big of a deal," you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Not that big of a deal?" Vinnie repeated incredulously. "Do you even know what's in that thing? It's filled with chemicals and who knows what else. You're going to get sick or worse, and I can't stand the thought of that happening to you."

You rolled your eyes, feeling defensive. "I'm fine, Vinnie. You vape all the time, and you're not getting on your own case about it."

"That's different," Vinnie argued. "I've been doing this for years, and I know what I'm getting into. But you're just starting out, and you have no idea what you're doing to yourself."

You got defensive and snapped back at him, reminding him that he vaped too and that he had no right to judge you. The argument escalated, and soon you were both yelling at each other.

The two of you went back and forth for a while, with Vinnie pleading with you to stop vaping and you stubbornly refusing to listen. The argument escalated until you were both shouting at each other, and you stormed off in a huff.

It was a tough situation because you knew Vinnie was right, but you didn't want to give up vaping. You felt like it was the only thing that brought you pleasure in your otherwise mundane life.

You stand there in the dimly lit room, feeling confused and hurt by the way things have turned out. You had never imagined that a simple act of vaping would cause such a huge rift between you and Vinnie.

You had never seen him so angry before.

But now, as you sit there on the couch, still feeling hurt and confused, Vinnie comes over to you and gently takes your hand. You look up at him, unsure of what he's going to say or do next.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, looking into your eyes. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. I just care about you so much and I don't want to see you get hurt."

You feel a lump form in your throat as you realize how much he truly cares about you. You lean into him, feeling his arms wrap around you in a warm embrace. You feel safe and loved, and you know that everything is going to be okay.

As Vinnie pulls away, he leans in to give you a gentle kiss. You close your eyes, feeling the warmth of his lips against yours. It's a sweet, innocent kiss, but it's filled with all the love and tenderness you've been missing.

You can feel the tension between you starting to melt away, and soon you're lost in the moment, all thoughts of the argument slipping away as you and Vinnie make up in the best way possible.

As he pulls away, he looks into your eyes, his expression softening. "I really am sorry," he says again.

You nod, feeling a little breathless from the intensity of the moment. "It's okay," you reply, finally feeling like things are going to be okay between you and Vinnie.

"And hey, y'know what, why don't we try to get clean together how does that sound?" He proposes with another chaste kiss on your soft lips.

#bella fawns over vhacker #vinnie hacker smut #vinnie hacker x reader smut #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker imagines #vhackerr #vincent hacker #vinnie hacker oneshot #vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker x you #vinnie x reader #vinnie imagines #vinnie #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie x reader fluff #vinnie hacker angst #vinnie x y/n #vinnie x reader angst

562 notes · View notes

daemour · 2 months

Text

Promise - Hongjoong

Part of Anthology

Every two weeks, I will post a drabble (and sometimes longer) alongside a prompt that went with it. The prompts may be songs, scenarios, or more.

M: Hongjoong

Wc: 1874

Warnings: Cursing, arguments

Genre: angst, some fluff, hurt/minimal comfort, e for everyone, established relationship

Summary: An argument with your boyfriend turns into something worse, and you're not sure how to come back from it

Hongjoong works hard, it’s not hard to see. He spends all his time in the studio whenever there’s a comeback, a tour, or an event. It’s commendable, and you love him for it, but it also wears down on your relationship. It’s the fifth time he’s come home late this week, and the other two days he just didn’t show up, sleeping on the work couch. You tried to bring up your worries as peacefully as possible, honest you did. But sleep-deprived and stressed-out Hongjoongs are not known for their patience.

“Hongjoong, I’m just trying to make sure you take care of yourself.” You’re done with this argument, but it appears your boyfriend is not.

“I don’t need you to do that, (Y/N),” Hongjoong bites back. “I’m a grown adult and I can make my own decisions.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “I didn’t imply you were anything else, but why don’t you try acting like a grown adult then?” You’re definitely not helping the argument end, but at this point, you’re quite annoyed at him. “You can’t not take care of yourself and then get mad at me for worrying. I’m not your parent, so stop making me baby you.”

“Then fucking leave,” Hongjoong’s voice comes out cold and you recoil. The two of you have had your fair share of fights, as all couples do, but never before had Hongjoong used that tone on you. No matter how angry he was at you, he wouldn’t ever speak to you like a pest in his life, nor has he ever cursed at you in a serious manner.

“Fine. Fuck you too, then,” you hiss, tears filling your eyes. Without another word, you spin on your heel and leave him standing in the middle of the living room by himself.

As you head down the street with nothing but your phone, you start to regret your decision. It would’ve been more safe and just as impactful if you locked yourself in the bedroom for a few hours. It’s windy and the fall air has a chill to it, and as if to prove your point, you feel drops of rain on the top of your head. As soon as you duck under the roof of a nearby convenience store, it starts to pour and you roll your eyes angrily, the bad weather not helping your anger at all.

After letting the anger stew in your gut for a minute, you pull out your phone with a sigh. You debate calling Hongjoong, but you’re still sore from the fight and would much rather eat grated cardboard than be stuck in a car with him. Your friends are not an option because they’d immediately notice your anger and you can’t tell them about your relationship with Hongjoong, nor do they know you’re even in a relationship in general. So you call the next best option.

“(Y/N)?” What’s up?” Understandably, Wooyoung's voice is full of confusion. You have all of the Ateez members’ numbers in case of emergency, but you’ve never needed to call them aside from Seonghwa once. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m sorry to call you out of the blue, but I got caught in the rain after an argument with Hongjoong and I don’t really want to be in a car with him right now.”

Wooyoung sighs. “I told Seonghwa it was a bad idea to let Hongjoong go home all pissed,” he mutters to himself or another member, you don’t know. “I’ll be right there, okay? Send me your location.”

“Yeah. Thank you,” you sniff and end the call, not wanting to seem even more pitiful than you already feel. One text from Hongjoong glares at your face. ‘This is Yunho. Come back when the storm ends.’ With a scoff, you delete the notification and huffily enter the convenience store.

One iced tea later, Wooyoung walks in, San tagging behind him to no one's surprise. “(Y/N),” San greets you with a smile and it hits you that Hongjoong hadn’t smiled once at you the entire time he was home that day. “Are you doing all right?”

At the kindness you miss seeing from Hongjoong, you break down. San and Wooyoung immediately surround you, wrapping you in their arms and ushering you to the car where you can cry in peace. Once you’ve calmed down enough, you explain everything with the occasional hiccup and sniffle. “I shouldn’t have pushed him, but he’s never said that to me before,” you end with a groan and let your head fall on the back of the passenger seat.

“No, yeah, that was out of line for him to say,” Wooyoung says and San makes a noise of agreement. “I get being tired, we all are and he has worked extra hard, but he shouldn’t take it out on you. He knew he was frustrated, and he should’ve taken some space or even asked you for some space more politely.”

“It wasn’t your fault, (Y/N). You weren’t looking to argue, it only escalated because he snapped,” San reassures you.

You sigh, nodding miserably when your phone dings. This time, Yunho texts you from his own phone. ‘Come back soon…he’s worried and so he’s angrier’ and it’s followed by a couple of emojis. You frown. “Should I go back? Yunho is with him and says he’s angrier cus he’s worried.”

San and Wooyoung exchange a look before Wooyoung speaks up, turning the key in the ignition. “Tell you what, we’ll go with you and if Hongjoong acts out of pocket again, we’ll bring him back to the dorm and get a manager noona to stay the night with you.” And as much as you don’t want to inconvenience one of their staff, you also don’t want to be left alone in the apartment and you begrudgingly agree.

When you walk back in the door, you see Hongjoong pacing the floor with Yunho on the couch attempting to placate him. “Hey guys,” he waves and you smile back and mouth a ‘thank you’ just as Hongjoong registers Yunho’s words.

“Where were you?” Hongjoong whirls around and glares.

“I left, just like you told me to, Joong. Are you ready to to talk like adults now?”

“Don’t lecture me when you went gallivanting into the rain with your holier-than-thou attitude,” Hongjoong starts to argue again but San’s low, dangerous voice interrupts.

“Finish that thought and you’ll have more pressing things to worry about, hyung. You’re coming back to the dorm. Now.”

Hongjoong scoffs. “You can’t kick me out of my own apartment,” he glowers, crossing his arms.

You’ve had quite enough. “They can’t but I can. Get out, Hongjoong. You’ve relentlessly insulted me and I do not deserve the attitude you think I do. Go to the dorms and cool down and don’t come back until you’re ready to act your age. The lease is in my name, I can and will kick you out right now, Kim Hongjoong.”

You’re tired, and you exit the room without another word, slamming the bedroom door behind you. You hear murmurs in the hallway and the faint noise of footsteps fades. A knock sounds on your door and you recognise Yunho’s voice. “I’m sorry about him, (Y/N). He’s been testy for the past few weeks. I called our manager to come and I’ll leave once she gets here. Take care of yourself and I beg of you, please don’t hate him.”

His voice fades and you can’t bring yourself to say anything. Your thoughts swirl in your head, confusion, hurt, all of the above. And once you hear the quiet mumblings of Yunho and the manager silence, you let the tears spill out of your eyes and you fall asleep soon after.

When you awaken the sun is up and you can hear the manager talking with someone in quiet tones. You’re somewhat sure of who it is, but you’re not sure you want to deal with that. It appears you’re going to have to, however, as the door closes and you hear familiar footsteps walking down the hall. Grumpily, you cover yourself with the blanket and do your best to pretend to sleep.

“(Y/N)? Can we talk?” You don’t grace him with a response but he’s known you for too long to fall for your acting. “I know you’re awake.”

“There’s not much to talk about,” you mumble under your breath but he hears you anyway and the bed dips as he sits beside your body.

"There's a lot to talk about, (Y/N)," Hongjoong's voice is quiet. "Let me lead with this—I'm sorry."

You tighten your grip on the covers. "Are you sorry or are you just trying to suck up to me? This isn't something we can just gloss over."

Hongjoong laughs sullenly. "Yes, Seonghwa made sure I understood that clearly," he sighs and you can't help but smile to yourself at the thought of Seonghwa reprimanding his leader. "You know, Jongho threatened me?"

You manage a chuckle. "That I can believe."

A hand rests on where he guessed your head to be and you don't shake off the touch. "But aside from that, I really am sorry. I had no right to take my anger out on you or lash out, especially like that. You didn't deserve that." Hongjoong still speaks softly, solemnly. "I know I hurt you and I promise to do all I can to remedy that."

You pull the covers down a little to peek at him. "My anger waned a while ago, Joong. I'm more hurt than anything and I hope for your sake and mine that you never do it again."

Hongjoong nods and you can see the sincerity in his eyes. "I promise you, I'll hold you tight always."

Bonus:

"Hongjoong, I hope you know how immensely disappointed I am in you. " Seonghwa's glare and his crossed arms are what greet Hongjoong at the entrance into the dorm. Hongjoong groans but Seonghwa just shakes his head and the leader silences. "For someone chosen to be a leader, you do a shit job under stress."

"I know you're mad, but you will give me respect," Hongjoong hisses at the sound of Seonghwa cursing, but the oldest member tsks.

"Well, now you know exactly what you put poor (Y/N) through, and she handled it a hell of a lot better than you did." The rest of the members' heads peek around the corner to stare at the rare sight of Hongjoong getting scolded and the leader has half a mind to tell them off but Seonghwa's having none of that. "I want you to ruminate on the damage you caused to your relationship, and apologise first thing in the morning. (Y/N) loves you, Hongjoong, and you better work hard to prove you deserve it."

At Seonghwa's tone, Hongjoong finally slips out of the daze he's been in all day and his eyes widen. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Seonghwa nods. "You did. Fix it the best you can and I'm sure she will forgive you."

"I peomise I will," Hongjoong declares and Seonghwa smiles but his arms remain crossed.

"You tell her that. I don't need to hear it."

#pirateeznet #kvanity #wkcnet #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong fanfiction

77 notes · View notes

akindplace · 2 years

Text

To those afraid of aging: don't be. You will find yourself, you will slowly find your purpose as you age. Give yourself time to process what happened to you when you were younger. Don't pressure yourself to be at the same speed as everyone else, don't compare yourself too much.

If there is something you wish to do, you should find the courage to do it, to follow that career, that dream, that relationship. Achieving things takes time, and everyone has their own timing.

You’re still young, you still have time to make decisions that will impact you in the long term, and it’s okay to not feel ready yet to commit to just one thing for your whole life. Please don't let other people push you into making decisions that should impact the rest of your life while you are so young. Don't pressure yourself either.

The thing about adulting is that everyone is just winging it, no one is any idea what they are doing, not even your parents, or grandparents. We are all just living, trying to deal with the unpredictability of life.

It is okay to change your mind about who you are, what you want. It's okay to feel scared of the future. It is okay to want more. It is okay to fight to achieve what you want. It's okay if you don't care about achievements. It's okay to be lost when you're not even a full grown adult. Because most adults are still lost, but less than when they were younger.

It does get better. You get more freedom, you can make your choices, you figure out what you like and what you can't stand, then you start molding a life according to your needs, your happiness. Please remember life is here to be enjoyed.

I spent my teenage years and early twenties so anxious about the future, and it didn't help me prepare for all the absurd stuff that happened in my life. I have had to spend a long time just healing from the past and figuring out the present.

You can only learn about life if you live it, by going through it. Let the future come, just one day at a time, you don't need to rush into anything. It's an amazing journey, but please be patient, kind and forgiving with yourself. You are still growing and figuring it out. And you will.

You have to live a bit so you can figure out who you are, what you want to do, how you can change. Don't be afraid of throwing yourself out there just because you're not perfect or you are afraid of failing. Just because you have failed, it doesn't make you a failure, it makes you a student of life. You didn't know it before, but you know better after failing. Don't be so afraid of judgement from others, live the life that feels most authentic to you by being honest about who you are.

Embrace life, it is here to be enjoyed, you are here to figure stuff out and heal and find yourself and you will! These things take time, but you will! Life is a beautiful journey of self-discovery, it will continue to surprise you until you die. There is always so much to see, to learn, to grow, to become. And you will get there.

#original writing #about growing older #tips #about adulthood #adulting #self-acceptance #self-worth #reassurance #validation #positivity blog

2K notes · View notes

hotnbloodied · 6 months

Text

Yandere!Kaeya X Reader

Hello! It's been a while I'll admit. But I've still been active here even if that means I'm more of a reader these days! :D But I can only read for so long before I attempt to write my own yandere short yet again so I hope you enjoy this Yandere Kaeya short! Stay safe out there and happy Halloween! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚HB˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

Setting: You're a graduate of Akademiya working at Angel's Share.

He thought you were cute, the way you lectured him about how he drank.

He was the Cavalry Captain and you were one of the staff at Angel’s Share he often frequents.

You started working there a couple of months ago after you graduated from the Sumeru Akademiya and moved back home.

“Sorry Mr. Kaeya, it’s been your third bottle. I’ve been told to cut you off.” “Aww, don’t be a party pooper~.”

He thought what the two of you had was cute, how the two of you would banter with each other while he hits up the Angel’s Share. The way your face gets flustered when he says something slightly suggestive. Your laugh when he tells a joke.

He thought the two of you had something special…that was, until he saw how you acted towards his brother.

The soft gentle smile that he’s never seen before, the sparkles in your eyes when you look at the redhead, the slightly higher pitched way you’re speaking and airy laughter. It should have all been his.

Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt as much if he didn’t realize that Diluc was visibly softer to you, it ate at him. So much so that he wanted to tear the two of you apart right when he saw it.

You notice him, “Oh hello Mr. Kaeya!” you said in a way that he normally would have relished in but today, it felt extra bitter. He left the tavern in a huff without sticking around for a drink.

“Wait! Mr. Kaeya!” Your voice called out to him. Surprised he turned around to see you straining to keep up with him. “Are you feeling okay? You don’t normally just leave the tavern like that without a drink.”

He was about to brush you off but realized something. “Oh my, it’s a bit embarrassing but my stomach started hurting something fierce. I was actually on my way home to lay down to see if that would help.” Your face scrunched with concern. “Then let me assist you home!” “Oh no, how could I?” “Please, I insist.”

A ghost of a smile quickly flashed through his face. “Well, if you insist.”

Weeks passed since your disappearance. Apparently, you left a letter to your parents saying that they had a big project at the Akademiya they wanted you to be a part of. Something felt fishy about it but your parents brushed it off considering you were an adult now and could make your own decisions. Diluc looked at your ‘letter of resignation’ with a frown before crumpling it up. Something didn’t add up.

Somewhere else, you were deep underground locked in a room. Your eyes were red from crying and your throat was sore from all the screaming you did. It felt like that man wasn’t the same Kaeya that you thought you knew. The more you tried to talk and reason with him the more it felt like your words just weren't getting through. You screamed, kicked and punched him but it seemed like nothing got through. And when you tired yourself out he carried you to the bed and snuggled you until you cried yourself to sleep.

“Nothing will stand in our way now…I feel at home when I’m with you. You’re mine.”

90 notes · View notes

ahgasegotarmy116 · 5 months

Text

The Art of Etiquette Part 2 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You try to back out on being a debutant so you can stop taking lessons with Mr. Jeon but your mother is going to do everything she can to make you follow through Paring: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 2k~ Warnings: Like one cuss word but thats about it lol a/n: Let me know how you guys are liking this! I was planning on posting this later but I wanted to see if posting around this time would be better :) p.s. roughly edited lol

"Mom! Mom! Where are you?" I yell as soon as I get home. "I'm right here so please stop yelling, you know that there is no yelling in this household" she scolds. "Okay, then why did you yell at me when I got a bad grade on my midterm paper?" I throw in her face. "Watch your tone y/n I am still your mother" she retorts. "Now what is it?" she says quickly turning the conversation back to it's intended course.

"I can't do this" I say and start making my way to the living room with her soon trailing behind. "Do what?" she sighs once we've both sat down. "This whole debutante thing, it's not for me" I say hoping it would pacify her but knowing for a fact that would never happen. "You're doing it!" she says, wanting to end the conversation already.

"No I'm not!" I argue back "I'm not cut out for this thing. This life of high society and playing nice with strangers, pretending like you actually care about what they're talking about. I just can't pretend to be someone I'm not" I explain but unfortunately she'll have none of it. "Did something happen at your lessons today?" she asks, hoping to find the cause of my anxieties.

"Nothing happened" I huff, standing up and making my way to my room. "Obviously something happened since you always seem to have something to say about everything even at the most inopportune times" she says, obviously exacerbated by the memories. "Are you talking about the time I added staying alive to the set list at grandpa's funeral?" I question chuckling at the memory.

"See this is exactly why you need those lessons. It's time to grow up, and if you're not ready to do that yet then I'll just have you get a job and start paying your own tuition so you can learn on your own what it means to be an adult" she threatens. "James said that he would pay for my tuition if I decided I wanted to go back to college. You can't take that away from me!" I argue and stop in my tracks, surprised and upset that she would even stoop that low.

"Since you still feel the need to whine over small sacrifices such as these then it looks like we should probably start giving you some more responsibilities so you will grow up. Just take the damn lessons y/n, it would really make your father and I happy if we could introduce you to everyone properly" she explains softening her tone towards the end.

"But he-" I start, wanting to tell her what my instructor made me do but we're cut off by the sound of James getting home. "How are my two lovely ladies doing?" he asks while giving my mother a kiss on her temple. "Oh we're fine, y/n was just telling me how much she enjoyed her first lesson right?" she says giving me a stern face, daring me to say otherwise.

"Oh yeah they were great Mr. Jeon seems like a very nice man" I say giving him a half smile, forcing the answer out of myself. I hate lying to him, especially since he's been nothing but nice to me so far. A lot nicer than my mother that's for sure, so I would hate to mess things up with him.

"Well that's great news! Especially since he called me just now and asked if you would like to take more lessons with him. It seems like he's taken a special interest in you and wants to really make sure you're set up for success. Would that be something that you would like?" he asks, thankfully leaving the decision up to me but with the glare my mother is giving me it seems like from her point of view there's only one obvious answer for this question.

"That works for me. Whatever you both think would be best is be fine by me" I say, doing my very best to sound as genuine as possible even though I'm dying inside.

"Wonderful! He's asked if we could do three days of etiquette and two days of dance lessons during the week and on days closer to events we should do dance lessons on the weekend before the event as well. That schedule work out alright for you?" he asks while taking out his phone to no doubt sending a message to Matthew to contact Mr. Jeon tomorrow morning so he's prepared for my newly scheduled lessons as well.

"Yes that's fine but where will I be taking my dance lessons?" I question now confused as to why Mr. Jeon would speak to James about them as well. "Oh I didn't tell you?" he's your dance instructor as well" James says and leaves to his office to take a phone call.

"No fucking way am I dancing with that man" I say turning back to my mother once he's out of earshot. "Did he do something that made you feel uncomfortable?" she asks, just now deciding to finally ask why I didn't want to take the lessons. "No he's just a dick" I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Really, that's the reason? What did you expect? He's meant to teach you to act like a lady and let's be honest, a nice sweet approach isn't going to work on you" she says and makes her way to who knows where, to do who knows what. With how big this house is it could honestly be anything.

~~~~~~~~

"So is he hot?" Jesse asks, clearly interested in how things went yesterday. "I mean I guess but he's too rude for me to even begin to pay attention to that" I huff, frustrated at the thought of him alone. "What's his name?" he asks, taking out his phone to look him up.

"I don't remember but his last name is Jeon" I say taking a bite out of my sandwich. "J-o-h-n?" he questions, confused at the unusual surname. "No J-e-o-n. I'm pretty sure he's Korean" I say and slide over to his side to see what he can dig up on him.

"Jeon Private Etiquette Tutor" he types in and hits enter. "Woah" both of us say, seeing how many articles and pictures of him with actors, CEOs and public figures. "This guy must be loaded" Jesse says, clearly stunned at who he's worked with. "And he's hot! Damn girl you really won if this Jungkook guy wants to see you five times a week" he says and keeps on clicking through everything he can get him hands on about him. "And seven days a week when there's some stupid event I have to go to" I groan just thinking about how many hours of my life I'm going to waste with him.

"He's only 27, I wonder if he's single" Jesse says winking at me. "For me or for you because you can have him" I scoff making him laugh. "No take backs! Well, unless he's straight. Then you can have him back. No matter how heartbreaking that might be" he says, wiping away fake tears. "Sorry to break it to you babe but he probably wouldn't go for either of us" I say placing a hand on his shoulder and getting up to leave.

"Hey! Where are you going? We don't start class for another half an hour" he yells after me. "I gotta go change since he wants me to be 'dressed like a lady' when I come and I won't have time after class" I yell turning to face him as I walk backward for a second. "Alright, have fun Barbie" he yells as I get further away to which I respond with a shake of my head as I make my way over to my car.

"Acceptable" he says taking in my form. "Although the hem is far too short" he says looking down at my legs again before looking back up and making eye contact with me. "It was all I could find on such short notice" I explain but unfortunately he isn't satisfied with my answer.

"Excuses will get you no where, you either do it or you don't. I'm sure you could have put in a little more effort into finding something more suitable if you had tried. Let's remedy the situation by the next class shall we?" he finishes off sarcastically before turning his back to me and walking over to the sound system in the corner of the room and I take the chance to stick my tongue out at him in retaliation.

"You do you realize there are mirrors in this room correct?" he asks, clearly not amused with what he had seen me doing. "My apologies Mr. Jeon" I settle on, not bothering to give an excuse this time. "But are you really?" he asks, walking back towards me slowly, his voice an octave lower, catching me off guard. "N-no" I answer truthfully, nervous with the way he stalks towards me with clear displeasure enveloping his entire existence.

He leans towards me talking directly into my ear, clearly using tactics to show his dominance over the situation. "Let us be honest with each other then. It would be a waste of both of our time if we were to do otherwise" he say sending shivers down my spine and I hate that it's something I couldn't have controlled even if I wanted to. "Is that clear?" he asks, his warm breath hitting my neck making my mind feel clouded, leaving me confused on how to respond to him leaving me only being able to nod in response.

"Good" he says leaning back, giving what I had hoped for was a little more room to breathe. "Next time use your words" he says tilting my chin up just as he had done at my last lesson. "Yes Mr. Jeon" I say quietly, leaving him satisfied with my cooperation and straightening back up to go back to what he had been working on.

'What the fuck was that? What the fuck was that? What THE FUCK was that?' I ask myself over and over and over again. I'm startled out of my circular train of thought and am met with what I can assume is some sort of waltz music running through the twin speakers on either side of the wall that the sound system is placed against.

"I can't dance" I voice out, sticking to my word and answering the question before he bothered to ask. "I thought as much, ballroom dancing is a lost art amongst the youth of your generation" he says adjusting a few more things before coming back over to me.

"You speak of my generation as if it was much younger in comparison to yours" I respond crossing my arms over my chest in defiance. "Were you perhaps curious enough to inquire about me?" he asks finally turning around to face me, making his way back over to me as he had done before, having caught me red handed leaving me changing my position, holding my hands together and having them rest against my thighs.

"I had just assumed based off of how youthful you look" I respond, giving him a forced compliment, not wanting to admit to what I had done. Well, really what Jesse had done but again he would see right through me. "Haven't we agreed to be honest with each other?" he questions reaching his hand out and easily pulling my hands apart. Placing one of mine on his shoulder and the other held in his hand, leaving his free one to rest on my waist.

"Do as I say and hopefully we'll come out of this without any injuries" he says practically daring me to make a mistake. "But of course" I say and straighten my posture to match his and follow his lead as best as I can.

prev / next

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @jkslipppiercing @trina864 @kaitieskidmore97 @goddesofimortality @coolbluedude @00frenchfries00 @bangtans-momma @coralmusicblaze @pastelpinkjoon @joonwater @marvelbun @j3nni-rs @evidive @beomieboi @forevrglow @jesssssmaybankk @teugiie @chaconnelatte @whoa-jo @snehal @xumyboo @mindurbuzznezz @diorh0seokie @hehurst23 @caro134340lina @ye0nvibezzn @olimpiiaa @hrtsj1m @junecat18 @ellesalazar @babycandy111

Join my Taglist!

Feel free to fill out the form or just comment on any of my fics to be added :)

#kpop #fanfic #fanfiction #kpop fanfic #bts #jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook and reader #jungkook and you #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #jungkook bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan

97 notes · View notes