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#I’m a knit wit
elucubrare · 19 days ago
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Shoutout to the wind for helping with this photo
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tetsvhoe · 3 months ago
you never know what you have until it’s gone, so they say. you think by now they should have known that.
pt. 1 i know who you pretend i am
character/s: sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader
genre/s: MOSTLY ANGST the fluff part is clickbait me thinks
warning/s: none
gwen's notes 🤍 : it's 3am i didn't even notice. this shit slaps hard enjoy. 🥴
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sakusa kiyoomi
you could only take so much rejection from sakusa especially when you began to piece together that his dodginess never had anything to do with his germophobic tendencies but everything to do with you‒rather who you were not.
your hands still longed for the warmth of his, but now you catch it mid-reach because you knew you searched for his warmth, but you were to be greeted with his coldness. your fingertips missed the feeling of his soft curls weaving through them and wanted to trace his two little moles fondly, but you clutch them close. you refused to indulge yourself in the feeling of his embrace because three seconds tops of feeling safe and comforted in his arms could not compare to the utter disappointment when he would push you off. your lips craved to linger on his skin in feathery light kisses, but you knew the way he would recoil would leave a bitter taste on your tongue.
you still longed for him all the same, but you understood more and more that dealing with abstinence was way easier than facing his rejection over and over again. sakusa on the other hand came to realize more and more how he missed your touch and the warmth of your love that seemed to dwindle by the day.
he didn’t even realize when it all began. it dawned on him during a completely irrelevant setting‒his soft-spoken italicized “oh” moment. he was in the middle of practice, sweaty and exhausted, surrounded by his larger-than-life chaotic teammates. you were the last thing on his mind supposedly, but he suddenly thought how weird it was that you didn’t try to kiss him before he went to work. i mean i was going to dodge it anyway, he thought to himself dismissively. he’s been telling himself that for the past two weeks.
he found you on the couch, deeply invested in the show you’re watching on your laptop. you spared him a haphazard glance when you heard him open the front door but didn’t say anything. he’s had an exceptionally shitty day and he would be fine if you would just pull him to your chest and stroke his hair like you used to wherever he had a bad day.
“i’m home,” he subtly tried getting your attention.
i already know. “welcome home,” you replied instead.
sakusa prowled around you quietly, observing how you completely ignored him. he disposed of his mask and set his duffel bag down on a settee before sitting on the opposite corner of the couch, eyeing you expectantly.
you raised an eyebrow inquisitively as you pressed the spacebar to pause what you were watching. before you could open your mouth to ask him if he needed anything, he placed his hand above yours completely startling you. you didn’t mean to retract your hand so quick it was almost offensive, but you were glad you did.
his mouth fell open in both surprise and bewilderment and something in you snapped.
“i don’t-”
“what are you doing?” you questioned, voice formidable and eyebrows knitted in annoyance.
“sorry i-i was just trying to hold your hand,” he reiterated the obvious but looked genuinely puzzled as to why you were reacting in such a way.
“why?” one word was all it took for your voice to break and you hated yourself for it. you bared yourself in front of him enough and didn’t want him to witness you in such a vulnerable state but the more you tried to hold back, the more you wanted to break down. “why, sakusa is it because you are thoroughly touch starved and now you want my affection because you can’t get it anywhere else?”
the anger laced in your sharp words stung as they reached him. he recoiled from the look in your eyes, and he finally figured out how much he messed up. “it’s not like that,” he reasoned quietly, now unable to look you in your vindictive eyes.
“well do fucking tell. why? why is it that you avoid me-no push me away so much more than you do literally everyone else?” tears ran down your cheeks. it felt warm, comforting.
sakusa shrunk back even more, not liking how devoid of care and gentleness your eyes were. it made his stomach churn, an unfamiliar feeling. “i’m sorry,” was all he managed to say, gaining a bitter scoff from you. “i’m truly sorry for being so distant. i’m not just initiating it now because i need it, please believe me. i’ve been wanting to hold you for the past few weeks but i was scared.”
“bullshit,” you snarked. tears welled up in his eyes and fear bubbled in his chest. “you were always distant with me right from the start because-admit it or not, you’re still hung up on your ex.” since he wasn’t getting to the point, you did instead. “don’t pretend like you don’t longingly look at your pictures together.”
a look of panic flashes across his features before he’s shaking his head frantically. “no, no, no, it’s not what you think. i-i washung up and them and i was looking at our old pictures but… i just-i was afraid of getting that close to someone again and getting hurt-”
“don’t lie to me.”
“baby, please i’m telling the truth. what i did was inexcusable. i was a shitty boyfriend, but i’m willing to try harder. i can make things right. i love you and i know that now, please.”
“this is unfair, sakusa.”
his heart ached so much in his chest, he was pretty sure it got snapped in half hearing you say those words with such lifelessness and anguish. “i know, i know i’m unfair and i treated you so bad but please believe me. i love you, please,” he sobbed. “i’ll do anything, i swear. i’ll wait however long it takes just please let me make it better.”
your quietness, though it doesn’t make the situation even remotely better, gave him hope because silence wasn’t a yes. more importantly, silence wasn’t a no either.
it was the first time he was the one to be pushed away and he wondered if it felt just as painful for you for all the countless times he did.
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@mirakeul @realityisabitch-blr @erinoikawa @haji-bby @seijohoe @szeonn @banananaa4 @qualityshoepsychic @thezebra12
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dreamcatcherrs · 8 months ago
mcyts reaction to you flinching during an argument
TW; slight mention of abuse, angst
+ sad boi hours; open
++ for all of you angst lovers<3
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song recommendation: start//end - EDEN
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when he yelled something at you, wanting some sort of response from you and you didn’t give it to him, he grabbed you by your arm angrily and pulled you close to him.
you flinched away from him, turning your head away in reflex to what his next move might be.
he would immediately let go of you, taking a step back. he would just look at you, heart dropping at the fact that you thought he’d ever do something to hurt you in any way.
would feel disappointed with himself even days after the incident, and would even doubt if him being with you was a good thing at all, where you’d have to reassure him for him to eventually forget about it.
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you and george were having a disagreement about something, keeping a close proximity to each other throughout the argument.
after having raised his voice, he would be lifting his hand to move hair out of his face. and that’s when you flinched, closing your eyes thightly.
george honestly wouldn’t know what to do. he’d just be standing there, stuck in place out of shock. eventually, he’d gently grab your hand, scared to touch your face in case you’d flinch again.
he’d talk to you about how he’d never hurt you, and asked if there was some deeper reason as to why you’d flinched so easily.
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he would be so angry at himself, and would probably, before you could even stop him, storm out of the house to clear his mind and think about what he’d just done.
when he came back, he would hug you so hard, tears streaming down his face and repeating phrases like “I’m so sorry” and “I’d never hurt you”.
he’d make sure you knew just how much he loved you, and that you had no reason to ever flinch away from him again. cuddle sessions are a definite yes after an incident like this.
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oh my god, when I tell you this mans’ heart would break into a million pieces-
he’d crush your body in his arms, coddling you so tightly to him whilst whispering sweet words into your ear. he would feel so crushed.
the poor guy would be crying😖
after that, he would try his best to avoid getting into arguments, or at least avoid ever raising his voice at you again.
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would feel really hurt that you thought he’d hit you. lowkey a little disappointed about how you flinched so easily just by him raising his hand slightly, but would push the selfish thought aside and talk to you about it calmly, even though the action had really hurt him.
he wasn't a violent person, and he thought you knew that.
he doesn't want to send you down a guilt trip or anything, but he just feels so… lost? makes him doubt wether you trust him and he could think about it for literal weeks, because he’d have a hard time talking about it.
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wilbur soot:
runs a hand over his face, wide eyes staring back at you in shock. it takes him a moment to realise that you had just flinched because of him. that you'd acted out in a way people who are scared do. he doesn't really know what to do at first - he doesn't want to cause more damage.
“y/n…” he trails off, lifting a hand slowly towards you, afraid that he’ll scare you away. the last thing he’d ever want is for you to be scared of him.
he cant just stand there, and he can tell that all you really need right now is some comfort, so he’ll just grab you and pull you right into his arms, apologising over and over again and assuring you that he'd never make you flinch again.
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he would be really confused.
like, he would just be standing there with a confused expression on his face until you looked up at him again. 
“did you think I was going to hit you?”
his bottom lip would tremble, and his heart would just be pounding out of his chest.
he’d feel better once you comforted him and told him that you just flinch easily, but he would still think about it sometimes when he looked at you.
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karl jacobs:
his eyes would widen, quickly trying to reach out and touch you, only realising that the reason you flinched was because you didn’t want him to touch you. because you’d felt a reason to lift your hands in front of you in defence.
instead he would clasp his hand over his mouth, feeling tears well up in his eyes. and just let out a sob.
and that’s when you quickly ran to comfort him, going down with him when he fell onto his knees.
would profusely be mumbling sorries between sobs. that moment would scar him for a long time ;-;
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would immediately take you into his arms. he pushed aside how much it hurt to know that you could ever be scared of him, because you came first.
lots of back rubbing and cheek kisses - he would be very worried that you flinched because someone had actually hit you before you eve met him or something along those lines.
would apologise for scaring you and wipe tears away from your cheeks if you were crying.
would have a long conversation with you about it afterwards.
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would back away from you.
he didn’t know what the fuck to do. if he should comfort you or back the hell away. so he chose the safest option, seeing as you had clearly shown a sign of defence.
you would kinda just look at each other for a while.
“I- did you just-” he would cut himself off trying to form the right sentence.
“baby, I wouldn't hit you. you know I wouldn't… right?”
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like sapnap, he would take off, leaving you in confusion and hurt about how you had so easily reacted like that.
he wanted to be there for you, but he knew that he needed to clear his mind and think about what had just happened before he could do that. once he was outside, he would yell at the top of his lungs, letting out his pain through doing so.
when he entered again, he would start talking about how he was such a dick and should be more careful with the way he moves and that he wouldn't ever hurt you or anything like that.
would ramble on until you shut him up, assuring him that there was no reason to be angry or upset. it would definitely calm him down, but he wouldn't be able to sleep very well that night knowing that he had made you flinch so badly.
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sam is just very shocked. and confused… and generally feels a lot of emotions washing over him all at once. the anger was still there, but he could hold it back for a while if it meant being able to wipe that expression off your face.
with furrowed brows he gently cups your cheeks, relieved when you didn't try to pull away or anything like that. he wouldn't really talk directly about it right then, but rather comforts you. you are his number one priority right now.
“hey, hey, hey. it’s okay, I’m here.” and then just hugs you and lets you cry it out on his shoulder. will talk to you about it later and eventually resolve your previous argument. makes sure you never flinch at him again.
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corpse husband:
corpse knows he can get pretty heated in arguments, but to make you flinch… he’d never seen that one coming, and honestly, it would hit him like a truck. he would stumble over is own words, hands clamming to you protectively, only to move away again as he realised the one who he had to protect you from was himself. 
would beat himself up about it a lot afterwards. like, he’d think about that look on your face and just space out, which you would notice of course cause his brows would knit together and he’d look so fucking sad. he’d just be scared to do it again.
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it was the worst thing he'd ever witnessed. you can almost hear his heart crack right into two pieces. he’d just look at you with sad, bulging puppy eyes until you moved to look at him again with guilt dancing in your eyes once seeing his.
“y/n, I… I would never hit you.”
I feel like he could cry depending on how bad the argument had been, but overall he is just very very sad. wouldn't be able to hold back even if he was scared of making you flinch again, and would just hold you. until you were ready to talk about it, he’d be right there with his hands clinging onto you for dear life.
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tag list✰
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becca-e-barnes · 3 months ago
Take Care of Everything
This is my first ever fic for a writing challenge omg I’m so excited! Huge congratulations to @balenciagabucky for hitting 3K followers!! That’s such a huge milestone and thank you for organising such a fun challenge! So excited to read the rest of the submissions 💗 @dulceslibrary
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Pairing: Personal Assistant! Bucky Barnes x Lawyer! Reader
Word Count: 3.5k maybe?
Summary: There’s only one thing in your life that your PA doesn’t take care of
Warnings: Smut, praise kink, pet names, protected sex (go me for writing something safe sex for a change), court mention, lil fluff, mile high club
Minors, do not interact.
“Un-fucking-believable.” You couldn’t stop the roaring boil of the blood in your veins, storming out of the court room with your long black gown billowing behind you. Being one of the top barristers in the country brought it’s fair share of high profile cases but this one had got on every last nerve in your body and you were out of patience.
The case itself wasn’t the problem. The issues were straightforward enough and applying law to fact, at the most basic level, your client had done nothing wrong. It should have been essentially cut and dry. The problem was the opposing council and the lack of intervention from the judge.
The prosecution had torn your witness to shreds. You had tried to warn the poor woman beforehand, as you did with every client, but on the stand, she had just crumbled under such an intense and downright ignorant line of questioning.
It shouldn’t have even been allowed in the first place. The judge should have stepped in and clipped the opposing council’s wings but the damage was already done and now you would have to pick the pieces up when court resumed on Monday.
“How did it go?” Your personal assistant must have been leaning outside the courtroom door for who knows how long, his suit somehow as neat and pristine as always, despite the fact it was the end of the day.
“Fucking dreadful, Terry was an asshole to Andrea and she lost it. Should’ve known he’d pull shit like that, he’s always a cunt on Friday evenings.” You practically spat the words out, heels clicking on the floor as you made your way down the marble hall to collect your things and begin to put an end to this miserable week.
Part of you almost wanted to laugh at how Bucky had developed the skill of being able to keep up with your pace without even having to look up from his blackberry. That only came from years of practice.
“Terry loves playing with fire. Fuck him. If anyone can put him in his place on Monday, it’s you.” Bucky still hadn’t taken a second to pull his nose up from his phone, his steps landing in perfect time with yours until you reached the chamber at the end of the hall, throwing the heavy wooden door open in front of you. Bucky filtered in behind you of course, closing the door behind him before slipping his phone neatly into his pocket.
“Thought your doctor warned you about your blood pressure? You gotta calm down.” Bucky’s face showed he was genuinely concerned, his eyebrows knitted together in disdain but there was nothing new there. He had worked for you for years now and truth be told, he was damn good at his job, not to mention the fact he was the closest thing to a friend your busy schedule allowed you to have.
“I’ll calm down when I’m dead. We need to get to the airport if we’re going to make that flight for the convention.” You pulled your wig off, setting it neatly into the little wooden closet before removing your gown, hanging it up alongside the other worn ones from earlier in the week so they could all be dry cleaned and back in the closet for Monday.
“It’s a private jet honey, it can’t leave without you.” Bucky laughed softly, knowing you were worked up and hoping a little joke would ease the tension.
You had to admit, you were so thankful for Bucky. He was devoting the prime of his life to making sure you had everything you needed, your life only felt so seamless because Bucky made it that way. He didn’t just manage your calendar and fetch you coffee like any other PA, he lived and breathed you. He went everywhere with you, crashing in your spare room at least three nights a week because you had both worked yourselves to exhaustion. He never missed anything. He had a solution for every problem, nothing was too big for him to tackle and given the chance, you two could absolutely take over the world one day. You confided in him, and he in you, getting to know every tiny detail of his life in the past few years, right down to that fact that neither of you had seen your family or been on a date in months. Hell, he’d went as far as buying you a packet of batteries one Monday after a particularly long and stressful court hearing.
“Here, got you these.” He had smiled mischievously as he handed them over to you, chuckling a little at your confused expression. “For your vibrator. Looks like it’s gonna be a long week.” You took them gratefully, joking with him that you really would need them, tucking them into your handbag and damn were they appreciated. The following morning he had asked how you had got on and you could only laugh. You didn’t tell him how thoughts of him had come into your head right as you had gotten close. Similarly, you didn’t tell him how painfully intense your orgasm had been when you imagined him on the bed with you, watching you come apart against the plastic toy. You could just picture his hungry gaze, watching how your body gushed as you released, nipples pebbled from arousal and your lips parted, a single whimper of his name escaping you as you rode out your high.
No, that was a little secret you would keep to yourself. He didn’t need to know your dirtiest fantasies. He was an employee. An employee that often arrived at your bedroom door shirtless and smirking, holding a stack of freshly made pancakes on the mornings he stayed over at yours but an employee nonetheless.
The cab ride to the airport would have been silent if it hadn’t been for the gentle tapping of your thumbs and Bucky’s racing over your respective phone screens. You had at least two dozen emails left to reply to and your eyelids were beginning to get heavy, the body heat radiating from Bucky in the cab’s back seat making you drowsy. You took a second, squeezing your eyes shut to force away the tiredness before going back to typing relentlessly.
The trip to the airport was short, Bucky had competed the preflight checkin so you essentially stepped straight onto the plane, taking a seat by the window, with Bucky taking the one opposite you. Takeoff was smooth as always, your phones picked back up as soon as it was safe to do so. But with the glowing screen came a fresh wave of drowsiness, your eyelids threatening to close of their own accord.
“Shit, Buck did you pack my -“
“Glasses? Left side of your bag, under the tissues.” Bucky finished your sentence for you, not looking up from his phone.
“And my -“
“Eye drops? In your makeup bag.” There it was again. What surprised you most was that Bucky didn’t even need to see you to work out exactly what was wrong.
“Do you really just take care of everything?” You huffed out a little laugh, digging through your bag, finding both your glasses and eye drops exactly where he told you they would be.
“Everything but you.” He chuckled, finally setting his phone down.
“What do you mean ‘everything but me’? All you ever do is take care of me. You organise my shopping and dry cleaning for god’s sake.” The whole notion of Bucky doing anything but taking care of you was just insane because you sure as hell didn’t have time to do any of those things for yourself. That’s what you hired him for after all.
“I didn’t mean like that. I meant like really take care of you. You’re so damn up tight.” You knew by the little chuckle that accompanied his words that he meant it affectionately but it still made you slightly defensive.
“I’m not up tight.” You protested. Normally you would’ve let harmless comments like that slide but the combination of your shitty day and the fact you were so sleepy made it impossible to not seek out conflict. This was the life you were used to after all. A life of treating almost everyone you came across adversarially. It was second nature to you at this point, inside and outside the courtroom.
“Come on, you seem to forget I am your calendar. You think I don’t know you haven’t gotten any in months? You should get laid, that’s all I’m sayin’. Wouldn’t kill you to have an orgasm every once in a while.” The words roll off his tongue like it’s nothing and truth be told, if you were in better form, this would have been a perfectly normal conversation between the two of you. Neither of you were particularly shy when it came to talking about your hookups.
You hated how right he was. You hated that you hadn’t been touched in months and Bucky knew that. You hated that most days, you were too exhausted to bother tending to your own needs. And you hated the warmth spreading through your body at the thought of Bucky finally taking care of you.
“Don’t know Buck, an orgasm might actually kill me with my high blood pressure.” You needed this conversation to turn more light hearted and you needed it fast, before your head became so clouded with need that Bucky picked up on it.
“I mean, I handle everything else for you. Wouldn’t even mind if that became part of my remit.” You almost couldn’t believe how carefree and nonchalant this whole conversation seemed, Bucky hoping you missed how he cock twitched in his trousers. Of course you didn’t. You missed nothing.
“If what became part of your remit?” You quizzed firmly, trying not to give anything away but knowing your eyes had gone big and doe-like, entirely of their own accord. This was a dream come true.
“You. Actually taking care of you. However you need.” His stare was intense, watching you keenly to determine whether he had horrendously overstepped and was about to get fired.
“Why would you even want to?” Your voice carried every single ounce of confusion you were feeling, staring Bucky down with an intensity that mirrored his own in that moment.
“You’re far too smart to act dumb.” He replied softly, knowing it was all or nothing now. If he was getting fired, he might as well be honest. His head tilted downwards, drawing your attention to the bulge growing in his suit trousers. Years worth of need and longing bubbling over all at once.
“If you want this, tell me. If not, that’s fine. But it doesn’t need to be anything romantic. Can be just sex. Whatever you want.” He was doing his very best to stay calm, his brain finally catching up with his mouth and considering that he was now in way too deep to just apologise and about to get his ass handed to him at thousands of feet in the air by one of the best legal minds in the world.
You’d never wanted anything more in your life. It was almost like Bucky was dangling himself in front of you. A piece of meat before a lion that could be snatched away at any second. You weren’t going to give him the chance, professionalism be damned. You were out of your seat and onto his lap in a flash, your pencil skirt hiked up to allow you to bracket his legs in your own.
“Are you sure about this?” Your quizzed softly, giving him one last chance to back out before you lost all self control.
“Do I feel like I’m not sure?” His voice was almost a choked whisper, his hands landing on your hips to press you down against his stiff cock.
You’d never seen him like this before. Horny and needy and losing himself in the feeling of you on top of him after years of fantasies. He had tried to curb the fantasies but his body didn’t allow him to. You were all he could think of on those lonely nights, a hand wrapped around his cock, groans and whimpers escaping until he came over his hand, a cry of your name pulled from his lips. He thought you would never know. And now here he was, the woman of his dreams perched in his lap, asking to be taken care of. Even the filthiest parts of his brain couldn’t have come up with this.
He could never have dreamt how you moved forward so tentatively, your lips hardly even touching his. He was used to seeing you confident, in control, the calmest person under pressure and yet here you were, unsure of yourself for the first time, he imagined, in your life. You both kept your eyes open for a little while, your lips sliding together gently, getting a feel for one another, up until your teeth sank into the plush skin of his bottom lip and an actual groan left him, his eyelids fluttering shut. The sound could’ve made you quiver with need. It was so alarmingly sexy, knowing your huge, sexy PA could be taken apart with the smallest touches. Suddenly, this seemed to be as much, if not more, for Bucky’s benefit than your own.
“Thought this was for me, hm?” Somehow your condescending court voice was pushing him over the edge. You felt one of his hands come up, tangling in your hair while the other wrapped around your waist, pulling your core flush with his clothed cock. He kissed you with a burning intensity that made your head swim and your pussy throb, loving how he was taking control but still hurtling further into a breathless, needy state.
“You’ve no idea how long I’ve thought about this. Didn’t think we’d be joining the mile high club.” He huffed out a little light laugh, using his grip on your waist to help you roll your hips over his growing erection.
“Couldn’t have been thinking about this for as long as I have.” You smiled softly, letting out a little gasp as his cock nudged you just right through your panties that you were sure had been soaked through already. His eyes went wide at your admission, his dick twitching deliciously underneath you.
“Fuck, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.” He whispered, making you laugh at how eager he was.
“I won’t be able to wait until we’re off this plane Bucky. You gonna fuck me right here?” You teased him softly, your faces so close, your tiny hands running down his pristine shirt, toying with the buttons. When you began to graze his chest gently with your nails, it was like a switch flipped inside Bucky. He thrust up against you with a growl loving the yelp you let out, one hand now squeezing your ass, the other massaging your breasts through your blouse.
“Gonna fuck all the stress out of you. Gonna have you leavin’ this plane leakin’ and cockdrunk.” Somehow you didn’t even doubt his words and you had to admit, it did sound quite appealing to give up the control for a while, just letting Bucky take over.
“Gimme all you’ve got Barnes. Gotta make it worth my while or this is gonna be the last time you get the chance.” You couldn’t help but tease him before instantly realising that might have been a mistake, his lips burning hot as they worked against your own, needy, insistent and as always, eager to please.
His mouth was relentless to the point that you found yourself practically dry humping his cock, your hands laced in his hair while his untucked your blouse from your skirt, greedily holding onto any skin he could reach. He tasted of peppermint and coffee, smelt like the expensive aftershave you were so fond of and felt like a man who’s only purpose in life was to make you cum until it hurt.
“Need you. ‘Nside me. Now.” You managed somehow to pant the words out between the fervent slide of his lips over yours, his tongue dipping in to taste you, never wanting this to end.
The feeling of your much smaller hands landing on his belt buckle made him look down but he could’ve cum then and there at the sight that met him. The front of his suit pants were slick with your mess, proof that he wasn’t just dreaming and you really were needing this just as badly as he was.
“You’re so fuckin’ ready for it aren’t you? Look at the mess you’ve made. Why didn’t we do this years ago?” He was groaning, shifting in his seat to help you get his trousers and boxers down. You couldn’t help how you gasped a little at the sheer size of him, his cock thick and long, the head slick with precum, proud veins running up his shaft. He looked Godly. Two firm pumps was all it took to have his head thrown back against the plush leather seat, cursing and bucking against your hand, aching for more.
“I’m sorry Buck, I can’t wait any longer.” You panted, his lips attached to your neck now, kissing, licking and sucking all his frustration into your skin. If there was a time for foreplay, that wasn’t it. Neither of you had the patience right now.
“Thank God, needa feel this pretty pussy.” He all but whispered as you lined him up at your soaking entrance.
“Shit Bucky, you got a condom?” You asked anxiously, stilling yourself at the last second.
“My bag, zip compartment at the front.” He replied quietly and sure enough, that’s exactly where you found a packet. Tearing the wrapper off, you slid it down his length earning another groan from the huge man who was practically shaking beneath you.
“You think of everything.” You giggled, finally beginning to slowly sink yourself down onto him. Your laugh quickly turned into a breathy moan, your breath mingling with Bucky’s and you noticed how he made a very similar noise. You pressed yourself down slowly, your body having to adjust to the stretch.
“So tight, fuck. Shit, never felt a tighter pussy in my life.” He whispered when you were finally seated on top of him. He pulled your skirt out of the way to appreciate just how connected your bodies were in that moment. His cock just seemed to fit perfectly, so snug you could’ve cried as you began to slowly work your hips against his.
“Oh my god Bucky you’re huge.” You should’ve been embarrassed by how high and needy your whine came out but right then and there, you didn’t care.
“It’s all yours sweetheart. Gonna fuck you so good you never need another cock again. Gonna ruin anyone else for you - fuck.” Under normal circumstances you would’ve chastised him for being so overconfident but feeling how his cock nudged your sweet spot perfectly, you thought he might actually be right.
“Gotta fuck you angel, can’t just sit here anymore, ‘s driving me crazy.” He just couldn’t keep himself still any longer, lust burning behind his eyes in a way you had never seen in him before. You lifted yourself up slowly, feeling his length slipping from you, your walls fighting to pull him deeper until you sank back down, taking the whole length at once. The strangled cry that left Bucky was incredible. You repeated your gentle rise and fall, setting a decent pace. Every sharp fall of your hips tore a needy gasp from both of you, the sweetest spot inside you throbbing from the almost constant onslaught. It was everything you craved. Bucky was grasping at every curve of your body, lost in the feeling of your soft skin and the grip of your silky walls and the smell of your shampoo as you rode him, building speed as your pleasure built in your lower belly. The wet sounds escaping where your bodies were joined was nothing short of obscene, only fuelling Bucky to meet each of your thrusts with his own.
“Oh my god, I -oh oh- I can’t, can’t take it Bucky please.” You groaned, manicured fingernails digging into his chest.
“I got you honey. ‘s okay. Gonna take such good care of you when we get to the hotel. Just want you to cum once for me now, okay? Take the edge off. You feel so good wrapped round me. You know what else I can feel? Your pretty pussy is leakin’. Feel you drippin’ down over my balls. Never felt anything so hot in my ‘ntire life.” His fingers fell to your clit, rubbing neatly as if he had been trained to do nothing else. You were on cloud nine, your high so close but not quite there yet.
“Bucky, gonna cum. Oh fuck!” You whined, your orgasm hitting you like a train. You came with a loud cry, eyes squeezed shut, rocking against him more than fucking so his cock stayed buried inside you.
“Shit, how did you get even fuckin’ tighter. ‘M so close.” He whispered against your neck, broken and needy. Your high had all but subsided, aftershocks still pleasantly coursing through you as you went back to letting your hips rise and fall so Bucky could finish. It only took four more well timed thrusts before he was cumming with a shout, pulling you flush against him as his balls emptied into the condom.
You were both spent and sweaty but more satisfied than you could remember being in months, your chest pressed to his as you both came down, craving a little extra affection. Bucky held you for a good few minutes until you felt his cock softening, knowing he really should get cleaned up. You let him slip from you, pulling your skirt down to take your original seat across from him again.
“Gimme a second.” He whispered, kissing your forehead before making his way to the little bathroom, returning a few minutes later looking just as put together as ever, apart from his telltale grin.
“Jesus, we should do that more often.” You smiled quietly when he returned, letting him settle in the chair beside you this time, the dividing arm rest pushed out of the way so you could cuddle as much as possible given the limited space.
“I can’t stop now honey. That pussy is addictive.” He smiled, happy to see you leaning so comfortably up against him but even happier when he heard your soft little snores.
@harrysthiccthighss @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @justatirednightowl @littlecanadianlani @babebr @sebsbrokentoe @badgirlwolfy
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cjsinkythoughts · 6 months ago
Windows Down, Music Up
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader
Word Count: 3730
Warnings: !FATWS Spoilers!, Cursing, Lotsa Fluff, Slight Angst, Talk of PTSD/Flashbacks, No Seatbelts at One Point (WEAR SEATBELTS!)
A/N: The Part I didn’t know I needed. I started writing and this is where it got me. I needed these soft moments after the intensity of the last few parts. I know I said there’d only be one part left, but…I didn’t know this Part would be so long. So three parts for episode 5 it is!
I hope you enjoy this! I know it’s not really a part of the show, but I love the idea and I think both Bucky and the Reader needed it. Plus the show has a lot of leeway this episode because time passes but they kinda skip over traveling and stuff, so I thought I’d give you a glimpse of what it looks like in mine!
Not beta’d, as per usual! All mistakes are mine and please excuse them! Be kind to yourselves and others! Enjoy this part and stay tuned!
FATWS Masterlist
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“So what’s next?” You questioned, your feet hooked onto the bar below the bar you were sitting on so you didn’t fall. Not that you could - Bucky was right next to you, his hand flying to your thigh every time you shifted even a little bit to keep you steady. “Walker’s been arrested, we have the shield, Karli’s in the wind…where does that leave us? Do we have any leads on Karli right now?”
“The GRC is conducting raids to try and find Karli, but so far they’ve only found her followers. They’ve searched this camp, and just like the last camp, nothing. She’s gone. And we’ll never find her.”
You huffed at Sam’s words, rubbing your temples as you grumble, “way to look on the bright side.”
“What bright side? There’s not one here, cher. Not this time.”
“Hey.” Bucky snapped. “Back off, Sam.”
You grabbed his forearm and squeezed reassuringly. “Hey! You got your, uh, you got your sleeve back!” You turned at the familiar voice that caused Bucky to scoff lightly and shake his head.
The kid smiled at you, waving as Bucky pushed off the bars, helping you down (he’d been refusing to let you do anything on your own since you woke up) and started walking towards the door. “Hi, Y/N. It’s been a while.”
“Are you off to take care of Zemo?” Sam questioned, making Bucky look over his shoulder at the three of you. The former assassin raised an eyebrow at you. You nodded, and he turned around to leave. 
“Alright! Good to know you survived!”
You snickered a bit at the kid. “It’s good to see you.”
Torres turned back to you and grinned. “You too. I really am glad you survived.”
“I know you are, kid.”
Sam looked at you questioningly. “Are you gonna go with him?” You pursed your lips, chewing your cheek, and nodded. “Alright. C’mere.”
You frowned as he lifted his arms, but walked into them anyways. “What’re we doing right now? This isn’t goodbye. We’ve still gotta find Karli.”
“For now.” He responded, setting his chin on your head, careful of your shoulder. “But we don’t have any leads and I’m sure we’ve been benched. So, until we do and we meet again, stay safe. And take care of yourself. And for the love of God, please have that conversation with cyborg, now.”
A small puff of laughter came from you and you nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you later then, Sammy.”
He pressed a kiss to your head, before letting you go. “Later, cher.”
“Bye, Y/N!”
You smiled, waving to Torres. “Bye, kid. Keep out of trouble.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
You chuckled, shaking your head as you walked out the door Bucky disappeared through earlier, turning down the hall to exit the building.
When you got outside, you found Bucky leaning against a wall, narrowed eyes watching the police as they finished the raid. “Do you agree with it?”
“These people getting arrested.”
You shrugged, shoving your hands in your pockets. “They harbored a criminal.”
He looked at you with a frown, eyebrows knit together and forehead creased. “We harbored a criminal. We broke him out.”
“Technically he broke himself out.” Your joke fell flat, Bucky’s head dropping. “Buck…” You sighed, eyes following a lady as she was shoved into the back of a car. “No. I don’t. I think these people have been through enough.”
“But?” His eyes grew sad as you met his gaze again, making you smile softly at him.
“But we can’t do anything about it right now. So we need to focus on doing what we can and finding Zemo.”
He nodded, reaching for your hand as he straightened and started walking off. You grabbed his fingers, jogging slightly to fall into sync with his strides. He seemed to notice and slowed down slightly. “We already know where he is, though. Don’t we?”
You hummed, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Where else would he be?”
You shook your head. “No. He’s there. Question is…how are you going to take care of him?”
“Sam thinks I’m gonna kill him.”
His blunt statement made you raise an eyebrow. “Are you?”
Licking his lips, he looked down at you, eyes set with certainty. “No.”
Your lips pulled up at his answer, leaning closer into him, shoulders brushing. “Good. Not that I’m an advocate for never killing people ever…it’s just,” you chewed on your cheek, thinking about the previous day’s events. “Revenge and justice are two different things.”
“Yeah.” He agreed softly. “We kinda witnessed that.”
“Yeah…we did.”
He let go of your hand to wrap an arm around your shoulders, tenderly avoiding your wrapped wound. “Good thing I contacted Ayo while you were sleeping then, huh?”
“You did?” You looked up at him with a smile as he nodded in confirmation.
“Yeah. And…I’ve been thinking a lot. Since our conversation about Wakanda and Zemo and Sam. You were right.”
A smirk graced your lips, an eyebrow quirking in amusement. “Pardon me? I don’t think I heard you correctly. What was that?”
He rolled his eyes, reaching over with his free hand to shove your head lightly, making you laugh. “You are such a punk sometimes. I’m serious though, doll. I-I’ve been…I dunno…I haven’t been thinking straight. The whole thing with Zemo was wrong and-and Sam didn’t deserve what I was blaming him for.”
You froze in your steps, tugging him to a stop as well, staring at him thoughtfully. Just since that phone call a couple weeks ago he’d grown so much. You could barely believe what he was saying - that he was finally saying it. He was a stubborn ass sometimes, so to hear him say that? It just stunned you. You knew he was a good person, but this…you felt yourself falling more, which you thought was impossible.
“Doll? Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”
Your arms raised around his neck, tugging him down into a hug, your lips pressing to his cheek. “I’m just proud of you.” You murmured softly, kissing his temple. He ducked his head, leaning against your shoulder, arms wrapping tightly around your waist. You held him like for another minute or two, before kissing his temple again. “We should get going. Gotta get to Sokovia before the Dora do.”
He hummed in agreement, pulling you tighter against him and squeezing you slightly, before letting go. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
“Question.” You said once you two started walking again.
“Possible answer.” He replied, making you elbow him as he chuckled.
“How’re we gonna get to Sokovia?”
He blinked, tilting his head. “Uh…plane? Unless you wanna have a road trip. The plane would only take a couple hours at most and a car, well…I could have us there in under a day with some broken traffic laws.”
You giggled, shaking your head. “Know what? I could go for a road trip right now.”
“Yeah?” He grinned at you.
“Yeah. And yes, you can drive. Just don’t get us in the middle of a high speed chase.”
He winked, kissing your head. “No promises.”
Bucky was actually a very good road trip partner. He made sure you had plenty of your snacks and let you control the music, turning up the volume for your favorite songs, shouting the lyrics to the heavens as you danced in your seat, the windows rolled down, wind ripping through the car, ruffling both of your clothes and hair.
You grinned over at Bucky, bobbing your head to the beat as he stared back at you, his eyes soft and sparkling. “Watch the road, dork!” He chuckled as you shoved his face.
“I’d much rather watch you.”
You felt yourself heat up despite the cool breeze moving through the car. “Have you ever stuck your head out the sunroof?” You suddenly asked him.
He gave you a weird look. “What?” Feeling a bit mischievous, you smirked and unbuckled. “Woah, woah! What are you doing?! But your seatbelt back on!”
“Oh calm down!” You stood on the seat after opening the sunroof, the top half of your body outside the car. He laughed as you whooped and hollered.
“Alright, alright. Sit back down, doll.” He tugged you back in, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”
You smiled, putting your seatbelt back on and plopping your feet on the dash. “Like what?”
He turned to look at you, his teeth pulling his bottom lip between them contemplating. “Carefree. Relaxed, even.”
You shrugged, leaning back in your seat. “I don’t get to do it often. But it’s so hard to care right now.” You gestured out to the gorgeous landscape you were moving through, the sunsetting on the horizon. “The wind, the music, the open road. Nothing feels more like freedom.”
“Yeah…yeah. I guess. I’ve never really…been on a road trip. Unless you count going across Germany in that little blue car-”
“Ha! That was not a road trip! That was Steve being a reckless dumbass driver for a few hours.”
He laughed. You’d heard him laugh before, but this was different. Something about the freedom you were talking about made it different. It was nice. And you’d do anything to hear it more often.
“I’ll take you on a real road trip once this is done.” You vowed. “We’ll hit all the states. Even go through Canada to get to Alaska. Nothing but us in a car for weeks. Wherever we wanna go.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that.”
You winked. “You do that.”
Conversation died after that, the only sounds being you and your music with the occasional chuckle from Bucky at your over dramatic dancing. You made a few stops at gas stations, getting food and drinks, before you felt yourself start winding down as the stars came out, winking down at you. You didn’t even realize you drifted off until the car jostled, waking you up.
“Sorry, sleepyhead.” Bucky apologized. “There was a deer. Maybe if you put your seatbelt on you would’ve stayed asleep.”
You rolled your eyes, rubbing at them and blinking. It was still dark out, no hint of the sun peeking out yet. “They’re uncomfortable.” You grumbled, shifting and wincing at your leg which was still asleep. “What time is it?”
“Almost two.” Bucky answered. “Are you okay? Is your shoulder hurting?”
“No. My leg’s just asleep so it feels weird and it’s aching. You want me to drive so you can sleep?”
“Nah, it’s fine. We’ll be there in a few hours. I’ve got it.” 
You hummed, sitting up and digging through your bag for some food. “Hungry?”
“Uh…I’ll just take a bag of pretzels.” Nodding, you grabbed one of the bags and handed it to him. It was quiet, the radio now turned low on some jazzy station you were sure Bucky turned it to once you fell asleep. “I’ve been thinking-”
“Hope you didn’t hurt yourself.” He shot you a bemused look, making you giggle. “Sorry. Go ahead.”
“I’ve been thinking of that fight. With Walker.”
You tensed, clearing your throat as you munch on your snack. “Oh?”
Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, you saw him lick his lips, setting the bag down on the middle console, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “When you were fighting him…why-why’d you hesitate?”
“What do you mean?”
He glanced over at you quickly, forehead creased. “You had the shield. You were holding your own. I’m sure Steve taught you some stuff…but then…” He trailed off, seemingly trying to find words. “It was like that first fight. On the semi trucks. You hesitated. Got distracted. Why?”
You shrugged, turning back to your food nonchalantly. “I guess I just had a lot on my mind. That’s all.”
“I know you better than that, doll. Please don’t lie to me.” Turning to the window, you just noticed that yours wasn’t down anymore. You look over to his side to see his was only a little cracked open. “I didn’t want you to wake up so I rolled them up. Answer the question.”
Letting out a sigh, you shrugged again. “I’ve been having…flashbacks.”
You nodded, sipping on your water bottle. “Yeah. Kinda like PTSD, but it’s not. Not really. They’re never traumatic or anything.”
You could see the gears in his head turning, his jaw clenching. “What are they about then?”
The tension in his shoulders slipped, his head ducking while still keeping his eyes on the road. “Oh…why…why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t want anyone to worry about me with all the other problems we’re having-”
“Hey.” Your eyes snapped up from where they fell at his sharp tone, his gaze meeting yours. “Don’t ever think that. Ever. You’re not a fucking burden, Y/N. You’re important to me. I-” He cut himself off, shaking his head and looking back out the front. “Does Sam know at least?”
You pursed your lips. “I-I told Sharon?”
He groaned, head falling back against the seat. “Sweetheart…”
“They’re just memories. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is if it’s affecting you on the field. And if it’s gonna get you or someone else hurt-”
Crossing your arms, you shifted in your seat, feeling the ache in your legs from sleeping in that position too long. “What? You don’t trust me now?”
“No! That’s not what I’m saying!”
“What’re you saying, Buck? You can’t have me watching your back because my mind’s messed up right now?” The car came to a halt and you sat up, looking around worriedly to see if any cars were coming. “James, we’re in the middle of the street-”
“Look at me.” You turned to him, only to look away at the intensity of his eyes. “Doll. Look at me.” He repeated tenderly, grabbing your chin between his fingers, making you face him. “I trust you.” His tone was nothing but genuine, and you’d never seen him look so sincere. “With my life, I trust you. But if your head isn’t in it? It’s okay, you just need to tell someone. When did you start trusting me?”
“At the airport in Germany.” You answered quietly.
He tilted his head. You kinda missed his long hair - the way it used to get in his eyes and you’d have to brush it behind his ear. “Even though I could still get triggered?”
“Well, yeah. But that’s different! You wouldn’t have been in your right…mind if you were…triggered…”
He raised an eyebrow as you frowned. “Trusting you and trusting your mental state are two different things. I’d know. Sometimes our brain’s do stupid things and we can’t stop it. But we can get help.”
You sighed, hanging your head. “Okay. Alright. I got it. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just…tell me about it.”
You nodded, before looking at the road. “Okay, okay. But can you drive? We’re still in the middle of the road.”
He chuckled and nodded, starting up the car again. After a moment, he glanced at you. “So?”
Another sigh left your lips, before you told him. You told him what’s triggered you so far and what the memories were about. How it feels when you slip. “It’s like, I remember something and my mind latches onto it and won’t let me out until I relive it again.” He just nodded, never interrupting as you explained what was going on.
It felt good to finally get it off your chest. And it felt good knowing he wasn’t freaking out and pulling you from the mission like you thought he’d do. It was something you hadn’t done in a long time. The last person who sat down and listened to your problems was Steve and the fact that you felt comfortable enough around Bucky to pour out your soul made you realize that Steve was gone. But Bucky was here. And maybe it was time to let go.
Bucky looked over to you when you stopped talking abruptly, cocking his head to the side. “Sweetheart? You alright?”
You lunged forwards, hugging his shoulders, burying your face in his neck. Fortunately for you, he had great reflexes, or else you’d probably be wrapped around a tree. You couldn’t care about the what ifs though. Sniffing, you closed your eyes, a couple tears leaking down your cheeks and landing on the skin connecting his shoulder to his neck.
“Thank you.”
It was so soft and muffled by his shirt, you weren’t sure if he heard it. But then he set his cheek on your head, his hand coming up to run through your hair like you did to him when he needed comfort. “C’mere, cuddle bug.” He cradled your head, shifting you easily so you could lay down comfortably, your legs curled in your seat, your head in his lap, taking extra care that your shoulder wasn’t agitated. “Try to get more sleep, doll. We’ll be there soon.”
You nodded, sleep taking over you once more with Bucky’s fingers in your hair, soft jazz still floating through the air along with the slight whistle of the wind from the crack in his window.
You leaned against the hood of the car, crossing your arms, watching Bucky pull on a shirt. You had stopped at a rest stop to clean up and change, just a few more miles until you got to the memorial.
“Ayo’s there already.” Bucky spoke, shrugging on his jacket. You pushed off the hood of the car to pull him closer by the sides of his jacket, your fingers moving to button it. “I just…I want a couple minutes alone with him.”
You nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”
“You trust me right?”
“More than anything.” You confirmed, looking up at him, smoothing his jacket down with your hands.
He nodded, leaning forwards to kiss your forehead. “I just - I just need you to know…I’m not gonna kill him.”
You nodded back, smiling softly at him. “I know.”
“Okay…let’s get going then. Get this over with.”
It didn’t take you long to reach the memorial, only a few more minutes down the main street and then going off down a side road.
Just as Bucky said, the Dora Milaje were already there, waiting for the two of you to show up. Bucky and Ayo had a conversation in Xhosa - which you were really regretting not learning anything more than “hi”, “please”, “thank you”, and “where’s the bathroom?” - before he turned to you.
“Stay with them. Just...I just need a couple minutes.” You nodded, eyes flickering down to the gun he pulled out from his coat pocket. He hooked a finger under your chin, lifting your gaze back to him. “Trust me.”
“Sometimes our brains do stupid things.”
He shook his head, kissing your forehead. “Not this time. ‘Cause I have help.”
Pursing your lips, you nodded. He gave you a reassuring smile, before stepping away, out of the trees to face Zemo. You couldn’t hear what was being said, but you had to admit that when Bucky lifted the gun, your heart skipped a beat. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He promised.
The quiet click of the gun seemed to echo, a pressure lifting off your chest as the bullets spilled from Bucky’s hand, clattering against the ground.
You figured that was the signal, considering Ayo led her badass women out to grab Zemo right after the bullets hit the ground, so you followed them out. You stopped next to Bucky, his hand slipping out of his pocket to wrap around your shoulders, tugging you to his side, your arms wrapping around his waist.
“I was listening to your heartbeat. You get nervous for a second, doll?”
You hummed in response to his question in your ear. “I trust you…but that doesn’t mean you don’t raise my anxiety levels.”
He snickered, kissing your temple, before straightening to listen to what Ayo had to say as she stepped towards you. She informed you both that Zemo would be going to the Raft and told Bucky to stay away from Wakanda for a while; both very fair statements that you weren’t surprised to hear. What you were surprised to hear was Bucky’s next sentence.
“I may have another favor to ask of you.”
Ayo raised an eyebrow, signaling for him to go on. Bucky caught your eye and his lips twitched up into a small smirk, before he faced her again and started speaking Xhosa, making you groan.
After their conversation, Ayo nodded. “We will drop it off here tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you.”
You pouted as Ayo turned to walk to their ship, Bucky starting to lead you back to the car. “You’re not gonna tell me what that was about, are you?”
You huffed. “You’re the worst, you know that?”
He chuckled. “You’ll find out.”
“On what?”
Bucky shrugged, pulling open the passenger side door for you. “On when Sam wants you to see it.”
You narrowed your eyes, a smile spreading on your face. “You got Sammy a present?”
You groaned, sliding into the car before he shut the door, watching him jog to his side. “You’re so annoying.” You spoke once he got in and started the vehicle again.
“If you feel that way, you don’t have to come to Louisiana with me to drop it off.”
Scoffing, you gaped at him in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”
He shrugged, turning in his seat and putting his hand on the back of your headrest to back out of the spot he parked in. “If I’m so annoying-”
“You’re so dramatic!”
“I thought I was annoying?”
“You’re both!”
He grinned at you, before looking through the windshield, blinking as something occurred to him. “I dunno where we’re going. We have to come back tomorrow morning-”
“Just drive, Buck.”
He blinked at you, eyebrows raising in slight shock. “What?”
You shrugged, nodding your head to the road. “Drive. Wherever we want, remember? Just until tomorrow. We can go back to reality after we pick up Sammy’s gift, but for now-”
“Just drive?” He guessed, the corners of his lips pulling up.
You smirked, shooting him a wink before propping your feet up on the dash again, turning up the radio, and linking your hands behind your head. “Exactly, Buckaroo.”
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donald4spiderman · 2 months ago
could u possibly write something along the lines of spencer getting jealous of other guys flirting with reader but he’s like all cute and subby and soft so he just gets flustered and upset but like reader reassures his insecurities…also could the reader have she/her pronouns (if that’s okay). and btw i love ur writing and ur blog! have a wonderful day!!
luv this request!
TW: implied smut, jealous sub!spencer, kissing
Spencer hates bars, nightclubs, concerts— basically any crowded venue with low lights and even lower inhibitions.
But, you insisted that the two of you take Penelope Garcia up on her offer at least once, knowing how good of a friend (and matchmaker) she’s been. So, the entire BAU, minus the company Hotch and Rossi, head to O’Keefe to enjoy a few drinks and the live music.
Spencer smiles; You look so happy to be with everyone, regardless of whatever sweaty, germ-ridden environment you’re in. The radiance on your face almost makes a night out worth it.
Because soon enough, a tall man with slick brown hair is approaching you from behind, tapping you on your shoulder.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Spencer should’ve known his luck would run out sooner than later. You roll your eyes and decline his offer with a smug shake of your head, returning to your conversation with JJ.
However, the man is persistent, attempting to warm you up with compliments.
“I’ve had my eyes on you all night.” Stalker much?
“All the guys in here want you.” Creepy.
“You’re the prettiest girl in this whole bar.” True, though it would sound better coming out of Spencer’s mouth.
Spencer knows you can handle shit on your own, but Morgan would encourage him to interrupt the situation playing out in front of him.
It’s a matter of pride.
Be the better man.
Show him who’s boss.
But none of that is Spencer. He’s far from content with sitting quietly on the side, but what good would his interjection do? A skinny kid in glasses and a sweater vest would do nothing to deter a determined bar creep.
You handle the situation well, flashing your badge and uttering something along the lines of I hold the FBI record for shooting accuracy, and he’s out of your hair.
Morgan nudges Spencer’s arm, urging him to claim the open barstool closest to you. He purses his lips apprehensively but eventually makes his way from his table to yours.
“Hey, babe.” You beam, slinging an arm around his shoulders once he’s close enough.
He feels all the eyes in the immediate area lock onto him, relishing in the pride and slight discomfort. “H-Hi.” He mutters meekly as you place a kiss to his jaw.
Spencer can’t meet your eyes, opting to glance around at the design elements of the establishment rather than look at his own girlfriend.
“What’s wrong, sweetie.” You pout, running a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck, causing him to blush and fidget nervously.
“N-nothing.” He sighs.
You raise an eyebrow, “That doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”
“I-It’s stupid...”
“Nothings stupid when it comes to you.” You assure. Spencer blushes more.
“I just— I feel so fortunate to be with you. Out of everyone, you chose me, and I’m so, so thankful for that.”
“Profound,” You tease, “but where’s this coming from all of a sudden?”
He shrugs, pretending to have to think of a sufficient answer. “When that guy was flirting with you, it just made me wonder, you know?”
You shake your head, “No, I don’t know.” Spencer’s brows knit together, and you lean in closer to whisper in his ear. “Because every time a female cop, or prostitute, or witness flirts with you, I know that I’m the one who takes you home at the end of the night. They’ll never have what I have.” Spencer swallows. “You’re the most handsome, most intelligent, most amazing man I know. And no other guy in this bar is ever going to get to fuck me the way you do— only you. Understand?”
He nods fervently, “Y-yes.”
Your features soften, and you lean in to place a delicate kiss on his lips. “I love you, Spencer. Only you.”
“I love you too.” He smiles warmly.
403 notes · View notes
inkykeiji · 6 months ago
beautiful when the damage is done
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part one | part two
characters: todoroki touya | dabi, todoroki natsuo
genre: smut laced with angst and a pinch of fluff
notes: part two of getting naughty with natsuo!! please please heed the warnings!! | title cred: sick thoughts by lewis blissett
warnings: 18+ minors dni, dubcon/noncon, sadism, punishment via overstimulation, pseudo-incest (stepcest), vaguely implied incest, emotional manipulation, a hint of degradation, toxic relationships, poly relationship, dom/sub dynamics, a LOT of crying (dacryphilia), slight size kink/size difference, rough sex
words: 4.6k
And you’re both reminded of how privileged you are, being the only two who ever get to witness this side of him, the only two who are fortunate enough to see the person he might’ve been if you stripped away years upon years of trauma and abuse, the person he truly is at the core of his soul, the person he was born as before he was forced to layer himself with thick, protective walls of aggression coated in indifference—and the person who he becomes as he sheds that armor, in the middle of the night when it’s just the three of you, the whole world having fallen away outside the bedroom door.
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It’s musty, air thick with the haze of sweat and sex, saturated the smell of tears and cum, so potent you swear you can almost see it in the atmosphere of Touya’s room. Uncontrollable quivers course through your entire body, never-ending chills erupting across bare, damp skin that shines every time it catches in the dim beams coming from Touya’s desk lamp.
Your scalp is still sore from where Touya yanked you off of Natsuo—back in the living room, how many hours ago? It feels as though it’s been forever since then, memory murky and swimming as you try to think—one strong hand wrapped in your hair jerking you up with such force you nearly stumbled. The pain is dull, a throbbing ache that radiates fading waves of hurt along your skull.
It’s constant, though, brewing a headache that is equal parts agony and dehydration, and you wish to rub at the spot, to place your palm over it in a futile attempt to soothe the discomfort at least a little, but you can’t.
Because it feels as if your blood has been replaced with sand, dense and heavy as it clogs your veins, weighing your arms down and keeping them firmly locked around Natsuo’s neck, steadying you in his lap.
But the ache in your scalp is nothing compared to the burn between your legs.
You can feel it, your third orgasm, churning in the depths of your stomach as it builds, a blistering warmth furling into a tight, concentrated ball of fire. It’s almost sickening, now, the heat roiling inside of you as heavy as lead, wracking destruction on your body as tender muscles, already quaking from exhaustion, begin to tense once more, to coil and wind up the way a lithe tiger does right before it strikes.
“Nat-Natsuo, I can’t,” the words wobble as they spill from between clattering teeth, you head shaking sluggishly as fresh tears sting your eyes.
“Yes, you can,” he murmurs softly to you, gentler than he’s ever been before but refusing to slow his movements as he bounces you on his cock, concerned stone eyes searching your face while his fingers flex on your hips, readjusting their grip on the slippery skin.
“You better,” Touya spits from his place on his bed, peering down at the two of you with something akin to disgust, to derision, saturating his features. And it stings, blazing sapphire searing his glare into your skin much like how he had carved his name into you, years ago.
A wet sob hitches in time with Natsuo’s rough thrusts, has you choking on it, concentrated with thick saliva that sticks in your throat and forces your breaths to escape in wheezes, hands clasping tighter behind Natsuo’s neck.
Yet, despite the pain, there are still sparks of pleasure that accompany each catch of your puffy clit on Natsuo’s slick skin, flickers of lust interspersed with those excruciating spikes that shoot through your abdomen.
It hits suddenly, that third orgasm—you’re halfway through your punishment now, Touya reminds you—has your tightly shut eyelids springing open with a gasp, entire body freezing up in Natsuo’s strong grasp, a grunt falling from his chapped lips as he drives his hips to piston into your rigid body.
He follows only a few moments later with a deep groan that rumbles in his chest, body vibrating with the force of it as his thick cock throbs, filling your little cunt with spurt after spurt of cum that feels almost cool in comparison to your scalding insides.
Touya allows half hour breaks between each orgasm—a short refraction period for you and Natsuo to regain infinitesimal amounts of strength—and not a second more, he had spit after the second orgasm, cutting off your plea for just a few more moments of rest, because this is plenty of time, more than you need, really and you should be grateful he’s so generous.
By the time you’re due for your fourth orgasm, you can barely move, and Natsuo doesn’t have the arm strength to hold you up anymore, to force your hips to keep gyrating or to bounce you on his cock, his entire upper half spent.
“Lay her on the floor, then,” Touya instructs coldly, voice firm and void of any compassion, though it’s hard to miss the sadistic glint in his eyes, hard to ignore the way the corners of his lips quirk up in an ill-concealed smile.
The look Natsuo gives him is almost heartbreaking, a puppy looking up at its owner with its tail tucked between its legs, eyebrows knitted together so tightly they crease his forehead, a deep frown—no, pout—etched into his face as he gazes at his big brother, glazed stone eyes pleading.
“Nii-san, can’t we use—”
“No,” Touya cuts him off harshly, sapphire eyes flashing, and Natsuo flinches. “You’re fucking her on the Goddamn floor for all five—it’s part of your punishment,”
Natuso doesn’t argue, but his lips twitch, and his eyes blur, and his nose sniffles, and he gives his brother a curt little nod of understanding, head bowed in submission.
The hardwood is cold against your heated skin, and you exhale a hiss through gritted teeth as Natsuo positions you as gently as he can, one large palm cradling your head, the other positioned on your back, slight tremors running through his exhausted muscles as he reclines you.
A wrecked little whine pries its way past your lips as Natsuo pushes in again, face scrunching up as sharp, needle-like pinpricks shoot through your gut, your raw, sensitive cunt stinging as Natsuo’s cock reopens previous sutures, skin split further, wounds dug deeper.
The sound your skin makes as it scrapes against the hardwood from Natsuo’s clumsy bucks has all three of you cringing, a piercing squeal that only adds to the symphony of your sobs and Natsuo’s grunts, flesh inflamed and chaffed from being repeated rubbed against the surface.
It’s getting harder and harder for you to cum, even with the generous breaks Touya allows, sparks of pleasure faded to mere cinders now, each shallow drag of Natsuo’s cock causing both of your bodies to recoil, and it’s too much, too much.
“Please, nii-chan,” you beg in a tiny whimper, teary eyes flying to Touya’s face, partially shrouded in shadows as glowing sapphire gazes down at you in scrutiny. “S’enough now,”
“We’ve learned our lesson, p-promise,” Natsuo adds, nodding frenetically.
“P-Pinky promise, nii-chan, please, stop,”
Touya scoffs. “You wanted to cum, didn’t you?” he pauses, cobalt eyes darting between your faces, an eyebrow raising in question. “Well, now I’m allowing you to. Now you have my permission; the permission you knew you needed so bad, but refused to request,”
And it’s then that it dawns on each of you that he had heard the both of you, had heard the entire fucking conversation, while he was doing his work in the kitchen.
How could either of you thought that he wouldn’t? How could either of you been so fucking stupid? Nii-san knows everything—nii-san always knows everything.
“Please, please, we’re sorry, nii-san, we’re sorry,”
“We won’t ever do it again!”
The laugh that claws its way up Touya’s throat is soaked with ridicule, and he shakes his head, a gleeful little grin present on his lips, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing, as if it’s so ludicrous it’s funny.
“Wait, wait, wait—let me get this straight…you two wanted it so bad, and now you have the balls to complain when nii-chan complies?”
His voice is painfully apathetic, almost nonchalant in a way, as if it makes no difference to him even though it so clearly does, or you and Natsuo wouldn’t be shivering messes of tangled limbs on the floor.
Excuses begin tumbling from two pairs of lips, words stuttered and choked on and sandwiched between pleads and apologies, jumbling together in a mess of garbled, wet, desperate sounds.
“Enough,” Touya growls, and both voices cut off in an instant. “I don’t want to fucking hear it anymore! Keep acting like ungrateful little brats and I’ll make this punishment longer, I swear to God,”
But you can’t halt the words bubbling up past your lips, regardless of Touya’s threat, regardless of the fact that you know he’s deadly serious. They’re compulsive, automatic, almost instinctual in nature as you seek out comfort, hunt for solace and fragments of relief in the hulking man blanketing you.
“I-I don’t wanna anymore, Natsuo,” you’re weeping into his chest, hot tears leaking from the corners of tightly shut eyes, streaming down the sides of your head and into your hair. “I don’t wanna,”
“I know, baby, I know,” Natsuo murmurs, though his bottom lip is beginning to tremble.
“Make him stop, Natsuo, make nii-chan stop,”
“I can’t,” his voice breaks on the word, facial features saturated in concern, in fear, wincing as if it physically pains him to deny you. “You know I would if I could,” he nearly whimpers, and his eyes search yours almost frantically, as if he’s begging you to understand. “But I can’t,”
But your head is shaking as you wail louder, fingers weakly curling against his skin, nails pressing into the flesh of his shoulders and clinging to him.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Natsuo’s saying, the words cracking in his throat, voice hoarse. He pauses, clearing it twice, eyes closing briefly as he sighs out a slow, deep, stammering breath, gathering his strength. “One more after this, princess,” he begins as his hips start to speed up their rutting, procuring a yelp from you. “That’s it, jus’ one more after this one. C’mon, we can do it,”
“No, no, no,” you chant as pretty, gleaming tears roll down your face. And you can see it, the potent guilt swirling in his gunmetal eyes, from the way his pupils expand as they focus on the salt water sullying your cheeks, from the way his cock twitches despite it all. “I don’wanna, I don’wanna, stop, Natsuo, stop,”
His motions pause immediately, the moment the word falls from your lips, but he starts up just as quickly as Touya dictates from his spot on the mattress above.
“Stop, and I’ll add another two,” he promises, ruthless and unforgiving. Chills skitter along your glistening skin, erupting across your damp body at his tone. Both of you know he isn’t bluffing, that he’ll add as many orgasms as he wants to, and that he’ll continue to pull them from your fatigued and worn-out bodies one way or another, even if he has to do it completely by himself.
“Focus on me,” Natsuo instructs gently, though there’s a sense of urgency in his voice, a frenzied need to calm you down before Touya loses his patience completely. “I’ll take care of it, okay? Just focus on me, look at me,”
So you do, blinking the bleariness from your gaze as you direct all of your attention to him. And although there’s that ever-present guilt still swimming in his irises, in his unshed tears, there’s also love in his stare, so much love it’s nearly overflowing, overpowering the remorse and instilling a deep sense of comfort in your stammering chest.
Because at least you’re not alone in this; at least you have each other—each other to find comfort in, to cry and whine and beg with, to protect.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he’s whispering over your wails like a broken mantra, those tears that have been glazing his eyes, that have been collecting behind his lashline, finally beginning to fall.
His hips speed up, as fast as he possibly can as he gathers every last ounce of power and manages to wring another one out of you, another one out of himself, sore cunt clenching painfully around him, your fourth orgasm feeling as if it’s been punched out of you, despite the fact that Natsuo’s thrusts have been shallow.
And by the time your fifth orgasm rolls around, you’re nothing more than Jell-o in the shape of a human, though Natsuo’s not much better, barely able to move other than the uneven rutting of his hips, a crushing deadweight on top of you as his weary hips give pitiful little thrusts, pubic bone dragging across your hypersensitive clit, every tug against it ripping another ragged cry from your throat.
But you’re having trouble, both of you struggling to do anything other than feebly hump against each other, unable to secure enough strength to pump—to milk—that final orgasm out of yourselves, sniveling little protests punctuated by wrecked sobs leaking from your mouths.
Touya’s pissed—beyond pissed—sharp jaw clenching while seething insults burn his tongue and slice your skin, berating the both of you for being so fucking weak, so fucking pathetic, because he’s forced more orgasms out of the both of you before, so why is this so fucking difficult?
Touya’s too stubborn, and he refuses to end the punishment early irrespective of the fact that you’re both entirely drained, reminding you in a callous voice that you each must cum five times before it’s over while he aggressively roots through one of his desk drawers, snickering to himself when he finds what he’s looking for, hooking his index finger in it and pulling it out.
And the look on his face when he turns back to face you and Natsuo is positively petrifying, idly swinging the cockring around on his finger as his head tilts slightly, observing the both of you with that sharp smile you’ve come to know so well on his lips, eyes glittering with pure delight, features lit up with his own personal brand of sadistic excitement.
Natsuo starts to say something, voice forming around a word that sounds suspiciously similar to no, but he catches himself before it fully leaves his mouth, pressing quivering lips together tightly as he stares up at his brother with wet eyes.
Touya chuckles, raising an eyebrow with that trademark lopsided smirk, as if he’s challenging Natsuo to dispute him, to resist.
He doesn’t, of course, because he never would, but he does finally allow full shuddery sobs to escape his chest, Touya’s condescending shh’s and hush, now’s doing nothing to calm them as he slides the cockring on.
Natsuo nearly howls when Touya turns the tiny, pretty pink device on, his entire body jerking with that initial vibration.
“The faster you cum, the faster I’ll take it off,” Touya says calmly over the stifled little shrieks Natsuo’s continulously trying to swallow back down, nodding his understanding as he repositions himself between your thighs, holding his vibrating cock in one massive palm as he guides himself back into you.
And you want to tell him no!, don’t!, stop!, you want to shove him off, to kick and scream and beg and cry, but your heavy head sluggishly lolling from side to side seems to be all you can manage, words snagging in your throat, nothing more than incoherent babbling leaving your lips.
Because you can barely speak, barely think, barely breathe, vision fading in and out of focus as Natsuo rocks stuttering hips against yours, warm salt water rolling down the bridge of his nose, dripping onto your cheeks and mixing with yours. You’re both more each other, more one than two separate entities now, spit and cum and tears so interspersed you can’t tell which belongs to who anymore, limbs and fluids, thoughts and sounds, endlessly flowing into one another.
“Tell her to behave, Natsuo,” Touya barks, though there’s twisted amusement dancing in his eyes as he observes. “Tell her to finish the fucking punishment,”
And Natsuo, ever the perfectly trained pet, does as he says immediately.
“We can—We can do it,” Natsuo keens from above you, full body shudders wracking his hulking form, alabaster hair clinging to his forehead in uneven clumps, drenched in sweat as he forces words through his own bawling, hips grinding into yours. “We can do it, let’s be good for nii-san, yeah? L-Let’s make nii-san proud—c’mon, you wanna make him proud, don’t you?”
You do—of course you do. You never want anything else. But…But you’re not entirely sure you can, hiccupped sobs peppering your slurred words. Unconsciousness tugs at the edges of your hazy mind, whispers enticing promises of repose and relaxation as weighted eyelids begin to sag.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Natsuo cuts you off gently, shaky knuckles brushing against your cheek in a poor imitation of a caress. “I’ll do it, baby, I’ll do it,”
You don’t even remember cumming a fifth time, only a feeling of hot coals smoldering in the pit of your stomach, but you must have, because then Touya’s hooking his arms under Natsuo’s and dragging him off of you, propping him up against the side of the bed and kneeling as lithe fingers remove the toy from his cock.
And the sense of relief that seeps into your body and floods your veins is so intense it almost feels like a rush of adrenaline instead. You did it. You both did it. Finally, it is over.
Or so you and Natsuo thought.
Spikes of fear piece through his heart as Natsuo blearily watches Touya gather your limp body in his arms, hauling you up with a soft grunt.
And it’s astounding, the way you still curl into him, still seek that familiarity, that solace, in his chest, mumbled out honorific padded by hitched half-sobs as you cling to him. It’s astounding, because even after all he’s done to you, after everything he just put the two of you through, you will crawl back to him each and every time, over shards of glass on your hands and knees with his name on your lips—his name in devotion, in submission, in love—without a single question asked.
And Natsuo realizes that he would, too.
The thought inspires a bittersweet taste to settle on his tongue, like sticky toffee and black coffee, alien feelings swirling in his chest, clashes of consoling blooms of warmth and spiky shards of ice.
But Natsuo doesn’t have time to meditate on his newfound emotions, your faint pleas recapturing his attention.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Touya murmurs, large hands repositioning you.
And he really does sound sorry, even though Natsuo knows he isn’t.
“Wh-What are you…”
“It isn’t over yet,” Touya says simply, though the smile stretched taut across his face is severe, terrifying, azure eyes sparkling in merciless amusement at the horror that shows on Natsuo’s face when he realizes, eyes widening as they fill with thick tears again, bottom lip jutting out into an involuntary pout as panic surges through his veins.
His heart palpitates violently against his ribcage, tongue turned to cotton as worry signs itself in the creases of his forehead.
“Nii-san,” Natsuo begins cautiously, trying in vain to keep his voice steady. “I don’t think—I-I mean, is that really necessary?”
“Of course it is,” his big brother responds without looking at him, preoccupied with folding your lifeless limbs up, knees bent and pressed to your chest.
“Why?” the word slips out without Natsuo’s permission, grey eyes widening in shock as he swallows thickly, shaking his head a little as if to say I didn’t mean to!, though Touya doesn’t seem to mind.
“Because the overstimulation was her punishment,” Touya glances over at him, the amusement dancing in his eyes turned vicious as his smile stretches wider—so wide Natsuo’s surprised it doesn’t split his face clean in two—cruel and brutal. “This is yours,”
Natsuo isn’t quite sure he understands, brain doused in a thick fog and having difficulty grasping the concept, the knowledge of what his nii-san truly means turning to dense, ashy smoke any time he tries to grasp it, metaphorically slipping through his fingers.
But then you’re speaking again, and Natsuo’s head whips towards you, chest tightening at how completely wrecked you sound.
“No, please, no more,” the words gurgle in your throat, escaping as nothing more but jumbled, spit-soaked whines that have Touya chuckling as he shoves his cock into your aching little hole.
“You’re in no position to be making demands, princess,” he speaks through a patronizing pout, a mockery of your own expression, voice syrupy and supercilious. “If you weren’t such a needy little whore always desperate for a hard cock to grind on, this wouldn’t be happening,”
The words are spit in the same demeaning tone Touya had been using earlier, the same demeaning tone he always uses, and Natsuo’s powerless to stop the words flowing from his mouth.
“It’s not your fault, sweetheart,” he reassures you, though his voice cracks under the emotion, words wavering as his chin trembles.
“You’re right,” Touya muses, slight breathlessness the only indication that he’s railing the absolute life out of you. “It’s yours,”
And suddenly, Natsuo understands what nii-san had meant when he said this was his punishment.  
Because he’s right.
It’s got to be the harshest punishment Touya’s ever bestowed on him.
Because it’s hard to watch the way your lax, abused body is forced to just take it, Touya’s thrusts so rough they jostle you up the mattress; even harder to hear as you bawl and beg and scream, and Natsuo’s nose twitches as the threat of new tears climbs up his throat, lodging in the column as he fights against them.
He feels sick, like some sort of depraved pervert, for the weak twitches his cock gives, for the faint embers that flicker in the pit of his stomach, igniting a dull blaze as he watches, almost entranced by the grotesque situation unfolding in front of him. He feels sicker, knowing that both of those would be stronger, much stronger, had Touya not forced him to fuck his entire soul into you.
And Touya—Well, Touya’s been hard from it all—high from it all—the whole time, and Natsuo can almost see the sheer power flowing through his veins, an aura that envelopes him, that radiates off of him in intoxicating waves, that licks at his skin like flames of blue fire. Natsuo bets—no, knows— it’s better than any drug Touya’s ever taken.
Protests marinate on his tongue, bitter and acidic, pleads of stop and enough scraping against the walls of his throat as he forcefully swallows them back down, emitting pathetic little whimpers in their place.
Because he knows if he starts, Touya will only make it worse for you, so he suffers in silence, readily agreeing with Touya every time he reminds Natsuo that this is all his fault and neither of you would be in pain if Natsuo could’ve just kept it in his fucking pants for a few minutes longer.
It hurts, because it’s true, nii-san’s words sending thick, piercing stakes spearing through Natsuo’s heart, through Natsuo’s very soul, straight to the core of his body. Acrid bile climbs up his throat as Touya’s moans mingle with your sobs, so exhausted that they’re barely more than little wheezes at this point. It’s abundantly clear that Touya doesn’t feel a shred of remorse, and that makes Natsuo feel even worse—if only he had said no, if only he had waited and asked, if only he had been stronger, you wouldn’t be suffering.
The tears collecting in the column of his throat sprout talons and claw their way up, past his steadily weaking resolve, prying their way through his lips in the form of jagged sobs.  
It’s magnificent, really, the way Touya can render Natsuo a snotty, shivering mess with only a few choice words. And Natsuo—Natsuo only ever cries in front of his big brother, only ever cries for his big brother, full-on weeping that slashes through his sputtering chest, coughing around and choking on his own sobs of nii-san, I’m sorry!
But it ends eventually, finally, Touya tearing one last orgasm from you, gentle words contradicting his cruel, ruthless actions, murmurs of come on baby, just one more, one more for nii-chan. You can do this for nii-chan, can’t you? You can be a good little girl for me and cum one more time, right? lingering on his lips
And somehow, you find the strength to obey, to be his good baby, because you always do, entire body convulsing with a raspy shriek of the honorific, Touya praising you only moments later as his hips still and his cock pumps you full.
It’s cute, really, how fucked out the two of you are. Touya thinks you’re both so beautiful when you’re like this, with glassy eyes and tearstained cheeks, lashes clumped together with residual water and swollen faces stained with streaks of salt, all dazed and fucked and stupid for him, from him.
Natsuo’s doing better than you are, of course—Natsuo wasn’t subjected to being fucked again. But Natsuo still needs to rest, Touya softly tutting his tongue with a disapproving shake of his head as Natsuo attempts to aid him with your aftercare, movements clumsy as he stumbles to his feet, inept and awkward as he blunders towards you.
“No,” Touya’s large hands wrap around his younger brother’s shoulders, halting him, steadying him, forcing Natsuo to look at him. “You rest,” he instructs sternly, guiding Natsuo back to his previous spot and delicately depositing him onto the desk chair. “I’ll get to you in a minute, okay, Natsuo-kun?”
Natsuo hums out an affirmation, eyes closing briefly as Touya’s fingertips affectionately trace the curve of his cheek, palm patting it once.
It’s in moments such as these, nights after hours and hours of extreme punishment, that Touya automatically, perhaps unknowingly, slips into Big Brother mode, and you’re reminded of the age gap between them.
Because even though Natsuo’s bigger than Touya, taller than Touya, beefier than Touya, he looks so tiny under his older brother’s protective gaze.
You both must reek terribly, covered in drool and sweat and cum, must look like hot messes, strands of tangled hair saturated with salt and sticking to your cheeks, but your Touya-nii is still right there regardless, whispering the sweetest affirmations and the tenderest praises to the both of you as he wipes each of you down with a damp cloth infused with lavender, telling the both of you how good you did, how proud you made nii-san, how pretty both of you are.
Nimble fingers spend a decent amount of time rubbing soothing circles of moisturizing cream into each of you, your most sensitive skin rubbed raw, aching and puffy from such intense maltreatment, before Touya-nii dresses each of you in his softest, comfiest clothes, steady stream of pure, unadulterated love never stopping as it pours from his lips.
And you’re both reminded of how privileged you are, being the only two who ever get to witness this side of him, the only two who are fortunate enough to see the person he might’ve been if you stripped away years upon years of trauma and abuse, the person he truly is at the core of his soul, the person he was born as before he was forced to layer himself with thick, protective walls of aggression coated in indifference—and the person who he becomes as he sheds that armor, in the middle of the night when it’s just the three of you, the whole world having fallen away outside the bedroom door.
You’re all each other need, after all; because he loves you both more than he could ever put into words—and you each love him back just the same—and that will always be more than enough.
Touya reaches across your body, arm a pleasant, heavy weight as it rests on you, and runs slender fingers through Natsuo’s sweaty hair as you snuggle into your nii-chan’s chest, and Natsuo nearly mewls, nuzzling into his nii-san’s touch as Touya instructs the both of you to sleep, now, a film playing softly in the background as the three of you drift into unconsciousness together.
942 notes · View notes
sweetbunnykook · 8 months ago
Devotion (M)
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Word Count: 5,885 // angst (toxic relationship, friends to lovers, yandere behavior, possessiveness, jealousy, mention of physical harm, mention of neglect), smut (rough sex/slight dub-con, fingering, omorashi, asphyxiation, forced creampie), no fluff
Childhood friend!Taehyung X Childhood friend!Reader
Summary: You and Taehyung were inseparable once. When you come back to your hometown after three years, fate pulls you back to him. And this time, Taehyung won’t ever keep his eyes off of you. 
Music: X
Winter darkness came early this season. It’s only a few minutes past five and the sky had darkened and streetlights casted a deep orange hue over semi-empty cobblestone paths. The streets are almost silent except for the faint piano music wafting out into the cool air from restaurants and cafes lining the streets. You keep your fists deep in your coat pockets but the numbness persists. You never thought your hometown would look the same after running away at age twenty with nothing but clothes and a roll of cash – his cash – in your bag. Now, at twenty-three, you wondered if you made the right choice, if the yearning that slept deep in your marrows was the reason why you’re glued to the ground in front of the café you had your first kiss in.
You never thought you’d see Taehyung again – assuming he left not long after you did – but here he is, sitting near the bar with his long fingers grazing over the rim of his whiskey glass. He chuckles at something the bartender says, takes a drag from his cigarette, but his eyes are sad and his smile fleeting. His hair grew longer – past the tip of his ears – and he looks overall larger than life. He’s wearing the coat you bought him for his birthday and you’re wearing the knitted plaid scarf you stole from his closet before leaving. It doesn’t smell like him anymore. It doesn’t smell like his warm cigarettes and aftershave and it takes all your might to not walk in and put your arms around from behind like you used to do when he comes back from work.
Your heart wants him. It craves him. It has spent many nights in your chest begging you to call him and apologize to your tormentor who kisses you while keeping a noose wrapped around your throat. Your Taehyung, your lover, your captor who gave you everything including his own fears.
He doesn’t know why he is the way he is and you can’t find it in yourself to ask. You just know he was easily scared of losing you. The day you found your intimidating and loving boyfriend in your classmate’s house, hovering over the poor boy with his blood-stained knuckles in the air, was the day you knew your love for him isn’t enough to keep himself from hurting himself or others.
Just a moment longer. One moment. You want to stay in the cold for just a moment longer and admire how beautiful he looks without you even if the bags under his eyes are deep and his downturned lips are set in a permanent frown.
Just one moment. Just until he swings the shot of whiskey down his throat and asks for another.
You exhale into the scarf wrapped around your lips.
“Taehyung…” you whisper his name into the cashmere wool.
As if he’d heard you, Taehyung briefly glances up at the bartender and you hold your breath, thinking he would turn his head towards the window. He doesn’t and instead stares straight ahead, the cigarette hanging loosely between his lithe fingers falling into an empty dinner plate. Your heart leaps in your throat when he doesn’t move, the finger over the glass paused, his lips falling just slightly. It’s not until you look over at where he is staring that you stumble back a step, meeting his eyes through the angled mirror that gives him a direct view of your figure through the window. His gaze pins you to the floor; you’ve seen it many times in your dreams but in real life it feels like needles down your throat.
When he moves from his seat you tighten your hand around your handbag and run, your lungs burning in the cold as you stumble through the blanket of snow in your heavy boots. You don’t turn to look, not when you can hear the faint bell of the café door opening and your name hollered in that deep, baritone voice that makes your insides clench. He sounds just as guttural as the day he was covered in blood, shaking his head and whimpering your name when you kneel next to your wounded classmate, annotated papers strewn across the broken furniture.
You turn into an alleyway, looking around to see if there is a place you can hide or crawl under.
You’re stupid.
So fucking stupid.
The footsteps grow louder in the darkness the faster you run into the alleyways. The smell of smoke and dirt making you hold your breath as you turn another corner only to face a brick wall and a line of abandoned bicycles. Screaming for help is no use in this part of town.
Your toes curl in your boots as the footsteps grow louder and louder before stopping just a few feet from where you’re standing. Taehyung can see you tremble softly under the small lightbulb from the back of a dormant restaurant building and he is in disbelief.
You, who had torn his heart out of his chest, had the nerve to run away at the first sight of him.
“Turn around.” He breathes into the air. His voice is shaking, from anger or from desperation, you can’t tell. “Right now.”
You can’t move. You can’t breathe. You certainly can’t run past him. Taehyung has always been stronger and faster, even when you had pulled him away from bullies when you were both children. Even when he had let you ravish him, let him drown in ecstasy underneath as you rolled your heat into his pistoning hips, you can feel his strength. You can feel his capacity to easily turn pleasure into pain.
“Turn the fuck around!”
You wince at his voice, your tear-streaked face disappearing further into the scarf.
When you fail to obey, Taehyung walks forward and grips the top of your arm, his large hand easily wrapping around your limb. He brings you to him, wrapping his arms around your shoulder and neck this time as his whiskey breath hits your face. He breathes in the scent of your perfume when he presses his forehead to the top of your head.
You changed so many things about yourself when you left him. The color of your hair. The shade of lipstick you wore. The dresses you adorned. The thick rimmed glasses you exchanged for contacts. The one thing you didn’t have the heart to change was the perfume he loved to smell in your hair. The faint smell of roses and musk that kept his sanity intact when your eyes lingered too long on another man or when you scream and shout at his reasons for locking you in the bedroom after working so hard to earn your first job.
“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” He whispers, tightening his hold around your body as if you were an illusion that could disappear any moment. “I looked for you everywhere. Everywhere, baby, everywhere…everywhere…”
You remember. The cries your neighbors in Denmark had to endure when Taehyung’s brother informed you that he crawled on his hands and knees in front of your injured classmate’s porch, hoping that if you saw how apologetic he is you might come back. The police had to drag him away on the third night.
“I’m sorry…” you breathe into the scarf, your shaking fingers coming up to grip his caging arms.
Maybe you wanted this to happen. You stayed another second longer, just another second longer, in front of that café window hoping that he would turn his head. You held your hand over the candle when you know it’d hurt you in the end.
“Don’t run away from me again, baby. Don’t you fucking dare or else I’ll go crazy,” he sobs into your hair. His hold is tighter and your heart is bleeding just like it had when you left. “You’re the only one...”
He pulls back and tugs the scarf down to see your face. You, his moon, his love. Your wet cheeks are still full and soft, your eyes as dark as the night sky, and your lips still swollen and wounded from your habit of digging your teeth into your skin when you’re nervous. You sniffle slightly in the cold and in such close proximity you can’t bear to look at him in the eyes until he takes your face in his big, cold hands and angles you to meet his lips.
You taste the cigarettes and the whiskey. Beyond his tongue, you taste his yearning and pain. You taste the nights he spent lying in bed with the dresses you left behind. You taste his appetite to hurt something – someone – when he comes back to a barren living room from work. You taste his seething, heartbreaking anger that enslaved you as the lover who needed to look at him and him only.
Despite the harshness of his tongue, above all cries, you taste home.
The apartment would have looked nearly identical as before had he expected your arrival. Stepping in, you’re hit with the smell of alcohol and leftover pizza on the kitchen counter before you witness the broken television and shards of glass from empty picture frames and bottles. There’s new workout equipment in the corner where an old, broken player used to be. Whatever cleaning he had done in the past three years was minimal. The only object that looked cleaner – polished even – than before was the snow globe with two angels in the center. You had gifted the little globe during fifth grade, gathering coins from underneath couches and stealing a few dollars from your father’s wallet.
Taehyung reaches from behind and underneath your armpits to undo the buttons of your coat and pull it down your shoulders. You turn your head away from the living room and let him without complaint, knowing from his trembling fingers that he’s holding back his unease.
He doesn’t have to say anything. Just from the sight of the place you once called home, the broken shards told you everything you needed to know.
Taehyung’s fingers pauses on the scarf around your neck. Moving your back to lean against the wall, you peek at his face through your lashes and look back down again when his piercing eyes meet yours once more.
“If you still loved me, why didn’t you come back earlier? Why leave in the first place?”
He tugs the material free from your neck and wraps the scarf around his hands before hooking it onto the coat rack next to the entrance. The light switch lays just underneath the rack but he shows no desire to reveal the extent of his anger just yet.
“I was scared.”
“Of me?”
You nod. “Of you and of myself. Of us. Together.”
Taehyung doesn’t comment, merely watching your wet lashes glimmer in the darkness as it catches the hue from the streetlights outside the window.
“D-Did you…see anyone else a-after I left?” You ask him in that soft, airy voice that you used to soften his heart when he’d get upset. Old habits die hard.
He squints just slightly before tracing the back of his teeth with the tip of his tongue, his arms coming to cage you further against the wall.
He contemplates lying.
He wanted to hurt you as much as you’ve hurt him. He wanted to watch your brows come together and fat globs of tears roll down your cheeks as he tells you he would bring women who looked like you in this space and made love to them. He wanted the satisfaction in feeling your fists pound his chest when he tells you he came inside them with a satisfied groan against their ear. He wanted to tell you he’d fall asleep with them in his arms and he’d lick every inch of their skin like he had done to you. It would be all a lie, but he wanted to. He really wanted to fucking tear your heart apart even if it’d feel like he’s tearing his own.
No matter how much he desired it, he couldn’t do that to you. Even when he knows without you telling him that you made love to other men in whatever place you ran off to, he couldn’t do that to you. Because he’s always known he loved you far more than you loved him.
“No, I didn’t.” He says and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I’ve only ever been yours.”
Taehyung takes your hand and puts it on his chest. His wristwatch ticks against your skin like a beating heart.
“Take off my coat.” He commands.
You undo the knot around his waist with a small tug and let the black coat fall open. Taehyung hisses underneath his breath when he feels your hands flatten over his pecs and up his shoulders, peeling the heavy coat off of him until he draws his arms down and let the fabric fall onto the ground. He’s broader than you remembered him and so, so much larger in presence like he’s engulfing your entire being whole. He’s wearing a plain white button down with a pressed pair of black dress pants and a matching belt just like the time you left him on such an ordinary day.
His skin is warm underneath the shirt and you can faintly trace his strong arms and shoulders before wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your cheek on his chest. You close your eyes and breathe – in and out – gradual and rhythmic and soft. He can hear you whispering his name underneath your breath over and over again like a prayer, like he’s your religion and you found your way back to him to repent for your sins.
You don’t get the chance to tell him you want to stay with him forever when he suddenly takes your wrist from his waist in a vice grip and pulls you into the apartment, not looking back when you stumble and fall on your knees. He half-drags you into the open bedroom and throws you onto the bed before looming over your curled figure as you rub your sore shoulder. The bed smells like you and it takes a moment for you to see your dresses laying across the pillows and blankets until you’re forced to tear your gaze away as Taehyung wraps his hands around your ankles and pull you towards him.
“Tae!” You squeal when he leaves hot, wet kisses down your cheeks, jaw and throat and nips at your skin with his front teeth. Your skin prickles with sweat and your shoulder still aches from his relentless pulling.
The room is stuffy and you struggle to catch your breath with the windows shut and sheer curtains drawn. It’s stuffy most of all with the memories it held of Taehyung bringing you a heating pad during your periods, tending to your hands when you burned yourself making dinner, watching movies with a secondhand projector on the opposite wall, and stealing each other’s popcorn because you always finish your share before the movie starts. The little things that leave such heaviness in your lungs.
Taehyung’s hands are shaky but firm as he reaches underneath your knitted dress and tugs your panties down your hips along with your stockings. Because you’re still wearing your boots, Taehyung doesn’t wait until he buries his face into the crotch of your panties pulled down to your ankles and licks your essence off the fabric onto his tongue, sucking the satin clean before finally unlacing your boots blind with sharp, uneven tugs and peeling them off your ankles. The shoes fall to his feet with a thump and your panties, along with your pantyhose, falls onto the leather not long after.
He doesn’t recognize this attire and it makes him grip the softness of your thighs harder when he imagines yourself or any other man buying you these dresses. It has always been his pleasure to see you dressed in his money. He’d made a promise to be your provider when your parents threw you out of the house as a teen and out of their lives with nothing but a backpack on your shoulders.
As soon as he brings back your luggage from the worn-down hotel you’ve been staying, he’s throwing every dress he doesn’t recognize into the raging fireplace.
Taehyung pops the top button of his shirt and reaches behind him to drag the cotton over his shoulder and head. His skin glows like molten gold and the silver chain hanging from his neck, curving just slightly over his collarbones, sways with his calculated movements. At the end of the chain is the ring from a cracker jack box you’d engraved with a pocketknife.
So many fragments of your relationship with him surrounds you yet you gathered the courage to leave all those years ago. Three long years it took for you to realize you preferred to be in his arms than be free anywhere else. In his shackles you feel safe. In his shackles you feel loved. Your freedom had its own shackles too – putting on pretenses in front of strangers, trying to meet the expectations of men who could never love you like Taehyung does, molding yourself to fit into who you could be rather than who you really are. Taehyung’s shackles feel like jewelry, like luxury, like comfort.
“Did you think about me?” He runs his warm palms up and down your calves, kneeling between your legs as you squirm on the edge of the mattress.
“Every single day. I missed you…I w-wanted to call but…” I was scared you were going to hurt me like you hurt the people around me.
He doesn’t comment and for a moment you wonder if the years of anger he had built inside him will rush forward like water bursting from a dam. It was strange how you are the same, vulnerable person after all these years despite changing nearly every part of your identity.  
When he looks up your heart leaps to your throat. If it were physically possible, Taehyung’s eyes would turn into steel with how hard, how piercing, his gaze is as if he intends to burn holes into your skull. Despite the glare that steals air from your lungs, he’s still beautiful with his uneven eyelids, thick straight eyebrows, chiseled cheekbones, and a prominent cupid’s bow.
“You’re not leaving me again. You hear me? You’re not taking one single step out of this room until I say so. I,” he grits his teeth, tightening his grip around your calves enough to bruise. “don’t fucking trust you anymore. You destroyed us.” His voice is harsh, labored, full of agony. “You destroyed every fucking thing we built together just because I allowed myself to love you.”
“I know, Tae, I know,” you bring a hand over your lips and stifle a sob. Taehyung’s hard gaze falters slightly upon seeing your sadness otherwise his face remains promptly emotionless. “I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry I left, I d-didn’t know what to do. I just…I’m sorry, Taehyung-ah.”
He takes his hands off of you and places them on the edge of the mattress next to your knees, gripping the plushness with all his might.
“You’re not leaving me.” He repeats as if he needed to convince himself more than he needs to convince you.
You shake your head. “I won’t. I swear.”
“If you do this again…something bad will happen. You know that, right? I won’t let you walk away. I can’t let you do this to me anymore, baby. I…haven’t I suffered enough?” He asks and it makes you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his lips towards you. He devours you like he needed you to breathe. It was obvious he was suffocated in this little apartment just as much as you suffocated in the little den back in Denmark, struggling to make it to the next month.
“I love you so much,” you whimper against his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. “I’m here, Tae. I’m home.”
Your boyfriend groans as he pushes you back onto the mattress and hovers over your body with his knees on both sides of your hips. You bring your legs back, curling them towards your body before hooking it around his toned waist. The warmth that solely belonged to him, you didn’t know how you survived without it. His tongue roams your entire mouth from the back of your tongue to your teeth. You wince just slightly when his fingers trace your slit underneath your red dress, gathering the wetness over your swollen clit in slow circles then moving down to your throbbing core.
“Is this all for me, baby?” He whispers into your mouth as you snake your fingers into his deep chocolate brown tresses and brush his long hair back.
“All for you. I belong to you, Tae, I always have.”
He tsks, watching your hooded eyes suddenly widen and your mouth fall open into an ‘O’ when he impales his index and middle finger into your soaking pussy to the hilt. You had forgotten how long his fingers are until he’s deep inside, until he pushes so hard against your walls that you can feel him from beneath your skin. Your cervix probes his fingertips back and it makes you squirm and wince as he curls his fingers inside and lightly digs digits into your walls. You’ll take the pain with grace.
Your trembling hands reach down to wrap around his wristwatch, slightly wet with your juices trailing down the length of his palm.
“Please, Tae,” you plead, squeezing his wrist. “I want you.”
His fingers move slowly against your walls, leaving you panting and soaking your dress with sweat. He makes no move to be merciless and instead pushes his fingers incredibly deep until your opening burns. He keeps his fingers inside while he undoes his belt, the clinking of the silver buckle raising goosebumps on your skin. All those times he bent you over the kitchen table and lash you across the ass with the belt for blushing when you enjoyed the attention of another comes rushing back, your insides gripping the contours of his fingers as he moves his fingers up and down. Lewd squelches from between your legs make you turn your head away in embarrassment but Taehyung won’t take your disrespect. Not anymore.  
You’re left unfilled when he slips his wet fingers out and places them in his mouth to suck, eyes rolling back and his smooth naked chest heaving at your scent. He’s brought back to reality when you work to remove his belt, your palm kneading his throbbing hardness as you unzip and peel his pants open as far as they can go to reveal his boxer briefs. His cock bulges through the dark fabric and you can lightly feel the trail of dark pubic hair above the base. In the silence of the room you relish in his labored breaths and the rustle of clothing. It’s a sound you longed to hear when you’d spend numerous night with your fingers in your panties in your lonely, cramped apartment, fingertips rubbing circles around your clit until you leak all over the vibrating dildo shoved inside.
Taehyung pulls the belt free from his hips and makes you sit up to wrap the belt around your neck like a scarf before lacing the leather back into the buckle and then tightening the loop. He places two fingers underneath where the belt meets your neck to make sure you’re safe. Even with anger radiating off every pore, he cares about you, loves you, wants to please you.
You nod, palming him and wrapping your fingers around his thick, pulsing length leaking pre-ejaculate through the fabric. He admires the need in your tear-filled eyes and twists the length of his belt around his fingers before pulling you up, earning a whimper as your hands immediately move to your makeshift collar.
The fact that other men had seen you in this position kills him.
Taehyung pulls the thin straps down your arms and peel your dress down to your ankles. You’re not wearing a brassiere and he suppresses a smile. You’d often lounge wearing his shirts in the living room, your perky little nipples peeking through the cotton, all ready for his greedy mouth to latch onto.
When you kick the dress away from your ankles and bring your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself, Taehyung takes the chance to kick off his shoes. He’s too impatient to remove his slightly tight slacks and black socks, choosing to give all his attention to you instead.
“You’re really here,” he breathes, eyes glazed over in remembrance of you over the years.
It started with kisses in cafes while studying together; at the time, he hardly knew how to kiss and knew less about the feeling deep in his belly. Kisses turned into roaming hands, his fingers disappearing under your panties and yours under his jeans. You lost your virginity to him – and his to you – in the backseat of his car after graduating in which half the time was him struggling to put on a condom while your laughs made him giggle along. He had always been yours, and you his.
You couldn’t accept that Taehyung is no longer the boy you used to know. While he accepted your changes and made peace with your mercurial ways, you couldn’t do the same for him.
“I want to show you how much I missed you,” you bring his hands to your face and rub your cheeks into his palms like a kitten.
Taehyung melts, his tired smile plastered on his face as he pushes the dresses on the mattress away and lays next to you. You know what this meant. He wants to watch you come undone, watch you mold into his body as your spine arches and he can tighten the belt around your neck as you spill onto the sheets. You reach down and slide your hands under his pants, gasping slightly when your hands wrap around the girth of his cock. His hips jolt when you run your thumb over his weeping tip and smear precum down his thickness. Taehyung turns you away from him, his perspired chest sticking to your back, and brings your hips towards his lap until he can slip his cock between your folds.
Heat blossoms on your cheeks when he pants lightly in your ear, breath hitching as he slips the tip of his cock into your entrance before ramming his entire length without warning.
“Ah!” You grip his iron arms secured around your waist. He pushes his cock further until he’s fully nestled in your warmth.
“Ung, baby,” he hisses, sliding his left arm underneath your head to reach the end of his leather belt. He wraps the leather around his fingers twice and brings the belt back to him as he pushes your spine away from him in an arch.
He begins moving, his hand around your waist slipping down to your clit as he rubs coaxing circles while pulling the collar back to compress your jugular. In the dark, cold bedroom Taehyung makes you feel every inch of himself inside your starved pussy. Your vision is filled with spots and every nerve in your body curls and bows to his carnal hunger.
“Please…please, Tae, please…” You beg as he pounds without giving you the luxury to adjust to his thickness, tight balls clenching further as he grinds his hips into your little hole.
You cum immediately, legs twitching as you sob his name and curse under a single breath, the wetness from your folds coating the base of Taehyung’s twitching, loaded cock. When you gurgle and cough, he loosens his grip on the belt and listens to you heave, watching your arms pull you up and away from him as you get on your hands and knees to take bigger breaths. You palm your lower abdomen with the heel of your hand, the ache making your head turn towards the pitch-black bathroom connected to the bedroom. Not only did his penetration burned your entire lower body, but you can also feel the pressure inside screaming at you to run to the bathroom.
You underestimated how cruel Taehyung can be. With teeth gritted, he suppresses the need to cum, and bring your hips back towards him to slip his cock back into your battered pussy. You’re tighter after cumming and it takes every ounce of his energy to not spill his load inside then and there.
“T-Taehyung I need to go to the b-bathroom,” you pant as you sweat from the pressure building even more in your lower region.
He doesn’t reply, only spreading your legs further with his knees and grip your waist before impaling you onto his cock over and over again until you slump back down to the mattress.
“It aches,” you breathe as Taehyung throws his head back and closes his eyes, plunging with the ferocity of a man possessed. He finds the end of his belt curled on your back and pulls, yanking your neck back and curving your entire body to take his length. He hardly prepped you enough and he did so with purpose, with the intent to make you release in more ways than one. “T-Tae, I can’t…Taehyung!”
His hips move quicker and the sound of skin slapping skin echoes along with his deep, guttural groans.
“Give it all to me, baby,” he snaps, falling forward to pin your body beneath his as he pistons his hips like a demented animal. You can breathe now but your vision is still hazy and your breathing labored. You can’t move your arms with Taehyung’s hands wrapped around your wrists in a vice grip above your head. “Do it for me.”
When your legs convulse underneath and a scream rips from your throat, Taehyung leans his damp forehead on your shoulder and spills his seed inside. You swear you can feel every lash of his load against your walls. Your ears ring just as you reach your high once more, neck arching back, nose in his hair as you spill your wetness over the sheets along with warm urine that stung as it leaks down to the dresses below. This was his intent all along – to claim you and to humiliate you into accepting that he will take your body as he wishes.
Still, the embarrassment makes you bury your face into your arms and sob.
“You did so well for me, baby,” Taehyung exhales against your jaw and takes your earlobe in his mouth, suckling gently before running his wet tongue over the shell of your ear. You squirm in his grasp, feeling as if your bones had turned into jelly.
Taehyung reaches down and runs his fingers gently over your pussy, rubbing the wetness over your pubic curls before leaning back on his heels to look down at the soiled dresses beneath your thighs. The warmth of your urine no longer lingers and instead you’re left shivering with the collar still tight around your neck.
He takes a clean dress from behind and wipes your fluids from his semi-hard cock and thighs before wiping between your inner thighs and folds. You’re quiet, toes curled as he works his way down to your knees where your urine trailed. He rolls you to the side, gently, and gathers the wet dresses in his arms before stepping away from the bed and dumping the mound of fabric into a half-empty laundry basket.
He then takes a towel from the shelf and disappears into the bathroom. You can hear the faint sound of water running as you reach up to undo the belt from around your neck and let the leather fall onto the floor with a clatter. Taehyung would prefer to remove it himself, but he doesn’t complain when he comes back with a warm, damp towel and wipes your cheeks and neck before roughly wiping down your body.
The smell of sweat is heavy in the air but it feels rather comforting to know you can be disgusting with him and still wake up loved in the morning.
You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling until Taehyung pulls you up to the pillows once the top half of the bed is clean, molding his body to yours as he buries his face in your hair. He inhales slowly, arms locking around your body and keeping you caged inside his embrace. Only when you lean into his chest does he bring a blanket over your body and his and tuck you in.
“Are you hurt?”
You shake your head, eyelids heavy.
The room is even quieter than before. It feels serene under the blanket since nothing strange has ever happened when you’re safe in his arms.
“I missed you,” you murmur, your fingers twirling his necklace on his chest. “So…so much.”
Taehyung’s voice is hoarse when he speaks. “I never left. I’ve always been here.”
You blink, training your eyes on the broken chess pieces scattered on the floor, and close your eyes. No more lonely nights. No more haunting dreams.
‘What’s that?’ Taehyung pouts when you stand in front of him with a small box behind. Every time he attempts to look around your figure, you turn to hide it behind your puffy white skirt. He was really starting to get pissed off and the playground is growing louder with more lousy children interrupting his time on the slides with you. The fifth grade class is the largest in the school after all and there’s only so many slides to go around.
‘You have to guess!’ You insist, keeping the box behind you still.
Taehyung’s frown deepens and then he tucks his bottom lip under his teeth, turning away in a haughty manner with his nose turned to the sky.
‘Whatever it is, I don’t care.’ He says, stepping closer to the slides, but regrets it immediately when your eyes fill with tears and your hands fall to the side. You know he hates being teased, but he knows you love to keep him waiting.
He looks down at your hand to see a box with a picture of a snow globe plastered on the cardboard.
His mouth opens and close like a fish as he contemplates apologizing but he ends up walking up to you and putting his sticky hands on your face instead, tilting your face up to him. You don’t say anything before dropping the present on his shoes and dashing away, maneuvering through the monkey bars and sandboxes with your skirt floating around your knees.
Taehyung kneels and takes the box in his hand, shaking the package until the globe falls into his palm. There it is, the two angels and the glitter particles swirling around them, the very object that he admired in the book fair yesterday. He turns the globe around in his hands, careful, until he reaches the writing written sloppily with a sharpie pen on the glass.
‘I like you’ 
1K notes · View notes
arachine · 2 days ago
i just know peter would love to be slapped on the cheek and his skin would turn such a pretty shade of pink 😌
sub! pete likes to get slutted out. send tweet.
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+ pairing: peter parker x f! reader
+ cw: impact play (slapping), dacryphilia, praising (f → m) (m → f), vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie
+ wc: 0.7k (?)
+ dt: this sub! pete fucker :3 @subspider
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the first time you slap him in bed, he’s unequivocally awestruck. you didn’t mean to do it, of course—it was simply just something that happened in the spur of the moment—but after your hand made contact with his skin, you were almost certain you heard a noise. 
what was that? a whine? a moan? or maybe both. trying to discern what exactly it was that you heard was proving to be difficult, but then peter’s mumbling something under his breath, and then he’s looking up at you with those big ol’ coffee brown eyes, pleading for you to do it again. 
do it again, baby, pleasepleaseplease-
you’re absolutely taken by surprise because you’d never meant to hit him, that had never been something either of you took interest in. with that look now in his eyes, and his incessant begging, you indulge him. you bring a harsh hand down to his face, observing as the boy before you trembles pathetically. 
his lip catches between his teeth, his brows furrow into a tight knit, and most importantly, you feel him. he’s getting off, undoubtedly so. his cock, which twitches intermittently after each slap, is a dead giveaway. now that you’ve unearthed this kink of his, you’re beginning to question if he’s the only one getting off, or if you’re just some sick, twisted fuck who has a power kink—and as time progress, you’re certain that it’s definitely the latter. 
s-shit, gonna...gonna come! 
peter’s face is wholly red now, and after continuously repeating the action, your hand seems to match the shade of rose in his cheeks. 
“oh, baby, you’re so red now. you look so pretty,” you syncopate each slam of your hips— each word—with a harsh slap. crystal droplets form in the inner ducts of his eyes, coating the thick of his lashes with every blink. 
he’s got his calloused hands on your waist, head lolling to the side every now-and-then as you bounce skillfully on his aching cock. god, he can’t take it. it’s too much, too good, and yet—not enough. he wants to feel you closer—needs to feel you closer. 
his hands slide south, settling on the ridge of your hip bones for better grip. the brunet’s hold is so tight that with every lift of your hips, your thighs begin to ache, and you’re sure that it’ll leave bruises for you to discover in the morning. 
every time his cock head brushes against your cervix, you smack him just a little harder. you’d thought it’d get him to stop being so eager, but it ends up having the opposite effect because he’s absolutely losing himself beneath you, babbling nonsense and sugar sweet affirmations. 
the tears gathering at his waterline had begun to spill, rolling down his face like glass ribbons. the next time you bring your hand down to his erythro cheek, he’s crying out, strings of broken sobs reverberating in the small of your room.
the best fucking pussy in the world, love t-this—love you sososo much.
unceremoniously, his orgasm rips through him like a tide. it pulls him under, and under, and under, until all he can see is your sweet face above the surface of the unmerciful waves. peter cums deep into the swell of your cunt, extending his hands out to pull you down to his chest, searching for something—anything, to ground him. 
his hold on your sweat-glistened body is vice, and you wince upon feeling his teeth sink down onto your bare shoulder. the pain is momentary, subsiding after peter regains his wits and soothes the area with his saccharine lips. 
“think this beats your record,” your tone is mocking, but peter doesn’t laugh. instead, he turns away, his cheeks darkening into a bold ruby red. 
“i-i don’t—i’m not, i don’t know where that came from, okay?!” there’s embarrassment laced in his voice. you find it cute.
“petey, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” your gentle hand reaches out towards him, cupping the fat of his cheek. “…i liked it too,” you whisper against his mouth, grazing the pads of your fingers over his bottom lip. the look in your eyes is crazed, and now that you’ve had a taste, you just had to have more.  
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© all content belongs to arachine 2021. no reposts or modifications. 
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elucubrare · a month ago
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I don’t, tragically, love the color, but the pattern is pretty cool.
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greyduckgreygoose · 6 months ago
83. “What are you doing in my bed?!" for Geraskier? Or Lambden
(unnegotiated crawling into someone’s bed? intoxication, geralt/jaskier, mature)
five times jaskier crawled into geralt’s bed & once when geralt returned the favor
Geralt is awake as soon as the knob on the inn room door turns, his hand hovering over the grip of his sword. 
Then he smells the bard - Jaskier - and he rolls his eyes, his hand dropping back down to the sheets beside him. Jaskier is oozing drink and swaying on his feet. He lurches forward into the room and falls forward onto his knees. Geralt rolls to his feet in time to catch him only because he’s afraid that Jaskier will upend his stomach onto the floor. 
“I thought you had found another place to sleep for the night,” Geralt says tersely, feeling Jaskier’s warm, cloying weight drape over his shoulders. “What happened to the innkeeper’s daughter?” 
“Oh she was magnificent,” Jaskier slurs delightedly. “Her husband, decidedly less so.” He gropes in the direction of the inn bed, the only inn bed, because Jaskier had assured Geralt loftily earlier in the night that he wouldn’t need one. 
“You’re sleeping on the floor,” Geralt mutters, ignoring Jaskier’s feeble protests as he swings Jaskier away from his bed. He’s not cruel, though. He eases Jaskier onto a thick rug in front of the dying fire. The warmest place in the room. 
“But I’m a great sleeping companion!” Jaskier whines as Geralt drops him and turns away. “I’ve been told I’m a great hugger! You’ll hardly know I’m there!”
Geralt climbs between his cooling sheets, alone and tries desperately to go back to sleep.
“Hey Geralt.” 
Geralt twitches, annoyed, as he hears Jaskier whisper behind his neck. He knows, without turning around, that Jaskier has wriggled his bedroll to hover against the line of Geralt’s back. Geralt wishes that he thought to put his swords down between them earlier that night. 
“Hey,” Jaskier asks again, and Geralt groans. 
“Go to sleep, Jaskier.” 
Silence. Geralt knows better than to trust it. 
“Are you sure that you killed that wraith-” 
Geralt exhales loudly. “Yes, Jaskier,” he says slowly. He’s a little more patient than usual because Jaskier had gotten a scare tonight. The wraith in the ruins had broken out of Geralt’s Yrden during a moment of distraction, and barreled right towards the sputtering bard. Geralt had been forced to set it ablaze before Jaskier’s horrified face. 
“... but are you sure that’s the only wraith-” 
Geralt turns around to face Jaskier, seeing his shaken expression clearly in the low light and knowing that Jaskier sees him not at all. “What do you want, Jaskier?” he asks tiredly.
Jaskier purses his lips, his voice tentative. “Can I just ... sleep close tonight? I think it’s the only way I’ll be able to sleep at all.” 
Geralt releases his breath in a low sigh. “Fine,” he said, again turning his back to Jaskier. “Just don’t wake me.” 
There’s a beat of hesitation before Geralt feels Jaskier hesitantly curl closer. The heat of him at Geralt’s back makes sleep come surprisingly easy. 
Geralt shudders awake to find Jaskier clinging to him, and muttering. 
“...fucking Witcher-” Jaskier scrambles up on his arms, blinking down at Geralt. “You’re awake! Thank Melitele!” 
Geralt tries to think through the haze of potions and pain, feeling the familiar sparks of magic dancing along his skin, knitting his organs together. “What ... happened?” 
“You were almost ripped apart by that fucking Ger- ... fucking Gar-... vampire. Fucking vampire.” Jaskier’s worried face swims before Geralt’s vision. The stricken blue of his eyes. His mussed hair and pale skin. How long had he been waiting by Geralt’s bedside? “There was so much blood ... shit. Half your stomach was hollowed out!” Jaskier shudders, and Geralt wonders if it’s at the realization of just how inhuman Geralt is, to be able to survive such a thing.
But if that is the case, Jaskier wouldn’t be pressed up against him now, would he? He wouldn’t be cursing Geralt under his breath while simultaneously trying to slide as close as he can without disturbing Geralt’s bandages. 
“Why’re ... you here?” Geralt asks. The potions have made him blunt, it seems. Even moreso than usual. 
Jaskier colors. “Would you believe that this is necessary for the healing magic to take? No? ... perhaps that this is a dream?”  
“Hmm,” Geralt affirms drowsily. “A dream.” 
A sweet dream, in any case, with Jaskier settling down beside him, his muttering falling into a relieved silence and his breaths growing slow and relaxed. There’s a distance between them now that Jaskier knows he’s awake, but as Geralt begins to drift, he feels Jaskier shift closer again until it’s no distance at all, and that feels good to Geralt’s fleeting consciousness, it feels right. 
The bite of winter in the air makes Geralt think of turning Roach Eastwards. The Killer isn’t going to be getting any easier the deeper into the season he lingers.
But as of late, Geralt finds himself ... reluctant to part with Jaskier.
Jaskier probably doesn’t feel the same. He’s chattering brightly about his companions at Oxenfurt, who has fallen out with whom, who has begun a torrid affair, and who he’s most looking forward to seeing this Yule.
Geralt keeps gathering the words on the tip of his tongue and releasing them. Come with me to Kaer Morhen sounds too vague and commanding, I want spend the winter with you sounds ... like a fucking proposal.
In any case, they’ll need to part ways soon. Already, there’s frost crunching underfoot in early morning and Geralt sees his white breath lingering in the air.
This last hunt has them bedding down in a drafty castle. Sometime during the night, the fire goes out and Geralt awakes to the sound of Jaskier padding towards him.
“Geralt,” Jaskier whines sleepily, and Geralt rolls closer to the wall, already anticipating what he’s going to ask.
Jaskier crawls into Geralt’s bed gratefully, hesitating only a beat before burrowing against Geralt’s body.
Geralt feels Jaskier’s icy fingers fold into the small of his back, Jaskier’s frozen feet slide along Geralt’s shins. He thinks that he should mind how close Jaskier’s getting, but it’s much warmer under the covers with Jaskier here, in any case.
It feels good, in his chest, knowing Jaskier is near.
Geralt tries not to interrogate this too hard, but sleep is still long in coming.
Geralt slays a Korred that’s been gorging itself on sheep after coming out of its winter hibernation, and the village is elated enough to insist Geralt and Jaskier both stay for Ostara, a festival celebrating fertility, rebirth and renewal. 
Very heavily along the lines of fertility. 
There’s a sheen of magic in the air, rippling with the golden pollen. Geralt senses it, and dismisses it as dilute enough to be harmless. Something to lower inhibitions, no more dangerous than the free-flowing wine. 
Jaskier is the happiest Geralt has ever seen him, painfully beautiful in the sun with a crown of flowers in his hair, linking arms with the youth in the group dances. Geralt watches Jaskier’s eyes fall on the village maidens, the pretty performance they make with their uncovered breasts, stripped to the waist and allowing the fan of their hair cover what it wills - teasingly little, in most cases. 
Jaskier will fall into bed with one of them, Geralt concludes with a sour twist in his stomach. It is not something Geralt wishes to witness, and so before the closing of the festival, while the fires are still burning high in the violet sky, he steals away to the barn owned by the grateful farmer who had kept Roach safe during Geralt’s hunt. 
It’s too warm for the camp rolls so Geralt wraps himself in a saddle blanket and chooses a sweet-smelling patch of hay in the loft. He tries not to think about Jaskier entangled with a village beauty, brushing the petals from their hair as he kisses their smooth, sun-brown body, murmuring endearments that make Geralt ache to think about. 
He drowses, feeling hot and heady, and attributes it to the magic in the air. 
Either minutes or hours later, he hears the laborious sound of Jaskier climbing up the latter to the loft. 
“Oof, Geralt,” Jaskier complains drunkenly, collapsing in the hay somewhere just beyond Geralt’s feet. He smells of wine and woodsmoke, crushed petals and honey mead. 
He smells of arousal, but ... unfulfilled. 
Something eases in Geralt’s chest. 
“Why did you leave?” Jaskier shuffles closer and Geralt reaches for him before he falls on his face, and now he has a lapful of laughing, clinging Jaskier, smelling so fucking delectable that Geralt has to bite his cheek to avoid burying his face in the crook of his neck. “I had to find my way back in the dark, on my own,” Jaskier whines, his fingers plucking at Geralt’s shirt, his leg hooking around Geralt’s hip and wriggling them, abruptly, together. 
“Jaskier,” Geralt says, alarmed that Jaskier’s going to feel the hardness in his lap. But it seems that it’s exactly what Jaskier is aiming for as he plants his ass between Geralt’s thighs properly and grinds down, making him groan low in his throat. 
“I want you, Geralt,” Jaskier pants so earnestly that Geralt can almost believe it. “I’ve always wanted you. So badly ... so badly.” 
It’s the magic, surely, Geralt thinks, as Jaskier begins sloppily mouthing at his neck. Even Geralt’s body is shuddering, his senses swimming at Jaskier’s nearness. He’s so close to taking what Jaskier’s offering, but how monstrous is that? Fucking his friend and traveling companion who isn’t in his right mind, who has never wanted Geralt like that ... who would be horrified in the morning-
“No, Jaskier,” Geralt makes his voice firm. If Jaskier doesn’t comply, Geralt will be forced to Somne him, and that he does not want to do.
Fortunately, Jaskier has enough control to freeze. He withdraws so abruptly that he stumbles back. 
He smells ... devastated. 
“Sure, Geralt. Sorry,” Jaskier’s voice is bright. “I just ... um, got carried away with the whole ... atmosphere. Forget about this, yeah?” And it’s as flippant as Geralt expected, but somehow ... 
Confused, miserable and painfully aroused, Geralt watches Jaskier crawl to the other side of the loft to seek his own bed.
Honey-gold beams of sunlight are sliding across Jaskier’s closed eyelids. He blinks open his eyes, focusing, first, on the motes of dust dancing across the ceiling. Then he turns, and sees Geralt looking down at him.
It comes to Jaskier suddenly, the utter fool he’d made of himself last night. 
“Fuck,” he says softly, scrambling to a sitting position. Then, “fuck!” His head feels terrible. 
Geralt huffs a laugh, uncorking the waterskin and handing it to Jaskier, who drinks deeply, eagerly, rivulets escaping down the corners of his mouth and darkening the collar of his tunic. 
When he comes up for air, it’s to see Geralt watching the trajectory of those drops. He looks ...
“Geralt ...” Jaskier swallows, sees Geralt’s eyes flicker up to meet his. “What are you doing in my bed?” 
Jaskier sees Geralt glance down. He is, indeed, kneeling in the hay bale which Jaskier had claimed for his own last night. 
“Are you in your right mind now?” Geralt asks seriously. 
“Too much so,” Jaskier winces. The water has made his headache cease, but now he has to deal with his shameful memories, which are ... so much worse.
“Hmm,” Geralt says, and hesitates before he puts one warm hand on Jaskier’s thigh. 
Wide-eyed, Jaskier looks from that hand to Geralt’s face. 
“Fuck,” Geralt mutters, but Jaskier claps his palm over Geralt’s before he can flinch it away. “Did you mean it ...” Geralt murmurs as Jaskier swoons closer, aching to feel the heat of Geralt’s breath on his lips. “What you said last night?” 
“Wanting you?” Jaskier swallows. His entire body is trembling with the force of his confession, his control splintering after being forced to hold it in for so long. “I’ve always wanted you, Geralt. As long as I can remember.” 
Geralt groans, pushing Jaskier back into the hay as he climbs to cover his body. 
They fuck fast and frantic, then slow and needy, the languorous roll of Geralt’s hips between Jaskier’s spread thighs making him sob and claw at Geralt’s shoulders, ripping from his throat the kind of noises that make Roach’s ears flick irritably down below. 
And never again, when they can help it, do Geralt and Jaskier ask for separate beds.
(now on AO3!)
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howdoyousleep3 · 7 days ago
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Rating: Explicit (E) Pairing: Senator Rogers & Intern Bucky Word Count: 2K Tags: Established Relationship, Boss/Employee Relationship, Secret Relationship, Age Difference, Light Sub/Dom, Size Kink, Crawling, Smoking, Daddy Kink, Body Worship, Handjob, Mutual Masturbation, Blowjob, Light Subspace A/N: I have decided to switch some days around because I'm not quite ready with some of the days/stories while I have others ready to go. Why stress? Here's Smoking early! This one shouldn't come as a surprise, hehe. I hope you love. 💜
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It’s open. Just let yourself in.
Bucky’s eyebrows raise on their own accord as he looks down at Steve’s text. He knew Steve had been crawling to the finish line these past few days but this text as well as Steve requesting he pick up a bottle of red wine and pizza on the way over has Bucky’s thoughts confirmed—
Steve is exhausted.
He has been the last to leave each evening and the first in the office each morning. He’s had more meetings all over the Hill this week than Bucky has yet been witness to, has always had something next, something left, something to do. Bucky hasn’t been worried about Steve ever, Steve being the one he looks up to for strength, but seeing him so spread thin, visibly and in spirit, has changed Bucky’s mind. He still isn’t fretting over the Senator but he begins to think of ways he can help in only the way he can be of assistance to provide stress relief.
By the time he has reached Steve’s apartment door and is letting himself in like instructed, he has a reliable and short list of things he can do in order to help Steve relax. All of them are sexual in nature and Bucky feels no shame; their relationship is extremely physical after all.
He locks the door behind him, kicks his shoes off. He can hear the television in the living room which is somewhat odd. They rarely spend time outside of Steve’s bedroom.
“Steve?” Bucky inquires, voice somewhat louder than normal to accommodate for the fact that he has no idea where the older man is located at within the apartment.
“In here, Buck,” Steve responds with, and Bucky’s suspicions are further confirmed by the tone of Steve’s voice, how resigned he sounds. He stops in the kitchen, drops the pizza off on the counter of the island. He doesn’t even set the wine down alongside it, merely grabs two wine glasses out of the liquor cabinet on his way towards Steve’s voice. Bucky inhales deeply at a faint scent lingering in the air that he can’t put his finger on, eyebrows knitting together as he racks his brain.
“What’s that—”
He stops in his tracks in the doorway to the living room because—
Oh shit.
Steve is smoking.
Steve is…
“What...what are you doing?”
Steve sighs where he sits in his chair and Bucky almost wants to whimper at the tone of annoyance of the sigh.
“Bucky, please. You know the week I’ve had. I don’t have any energy to put towards answering stupid questions.”
Bucky does whimper then. He feels like he’s stuck in mud, can’t pick his feet up to continue walking into the room. Steve looks like something that has been plucked right from Bucky’s wettest of dreams, straight from his hindbrain. He looks like power, like status, like wealth. His crisp dress shirt is unbuttoned in full, somewhat pulled out of the waistband of his pants, belt unbuckled and open. His tie hangs loosely around his neck, his shoes kicked off carelessly next to him.
It looks like he started pulling at his clothes the moment he came through the door, tired of the formality of them, the constriction.
And immediately cut and lit his cigar.
“I’m...I didn’t mean...I’m sorry, I—”
Steve sighs at Bucky’s embarrassing show of stupidity, brings the cigar he’s holding between two fingers up to his lips. Bucky stops talking and trails off, mouth open, and watches as Steve inhales deeply, letting his eyes fall closed. Fucking hell. He feels the doorframe against his shoulder, body in fight or flight mode and siding with whatever mode keeps him from collapsing and passing out.
“Bucky,” Steve mumbles, pointing to the coffee table in front of him. “Put those down and come here.”
Bucky blinks, mind empty enough to not realize he’s taken a few steps and done exactly as Steve has ordered. When his hands are empty, Steve sighs once more, a noise that goes right to Bucky’s dick. He snaps his fingers with his empty hand, points to the floor.
“You know better— crawl.”
Bucky drops. Somewhere in his brain he hopes his show of obedience makes Steve happy, albeit delayed. The distance between where he kneels and where Steve lounges is not far but feels immense. With each knock of a knee against carpet, each stretch of his arm, he feels himself slip and recede into his mind further and further. It’s both a blessing and a curse to leave his mind behind so easily. He wants to stay present, wants to watch each and every inhale and exhale the older man takes, but he also has such a soft spot for floating away.
The image that Steve makes, one dripping with Alpha male and power and sex, is enough for Bucky to beat off to for weeks to come. But to be the one crawling towards this man, to be the one saddling in close as Steve spreads himself out in his leather chair, is enough to send Bucky damn near spiraling.
He isn’t prompted with further instruction; he doesn’t need to be. With both arousal and sympathy, his lips reach for the delicate skin of the Senator’s ankle, pursing his lips there with an exhale that is akin to a whine. Steve doesn’t react but Bucky isn’t put off; he is persistent. He kisses, worships, his way up Steve’s body, his shin and then his knee and then the inside of his thigh. He still has the piece of his mind that reminds him to keep his hands to himself until Daddy says so.
By the time he rubs his cheek into Steve’s thigh, noses at the crease of his hip, he feels exhausted in his bones in a way that only comes with using all of his brain power on thinking about Steve, pleasing Steve, being good for Steve.
The Senator doesn’t respond to Bucky’s plea verbally, instead runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair, strokes at his cheek, opposite of the one pressed to Steve’s thigh. Bucky’s fingers twitch to reach for Steve’s cock and when he hears Steve inhale deeply, he quickly decides he can’t wait any longer.  He nuzzles his face, his nose, between Steve’s thighs with a set of whimpers, a not-so-silent plea. He can’t help but inhale himself, the smell of masculine musk mixing with the smoke of the cigar sending a shiver down his spine.
He mouths at Steve’s half-hard cock, huffing in impatience. He is reminded once again that Steve has had a tiring week, is exhausted, by the way he allows for Bucky’s hands to come up without permission, for them to pull needily at the meat of Steve’s hips. He wishes to feel Steve in his mouth, wants to feel him swell up right on the flat of his tongue. His exhales rattle his rib cage, leaving him damn near panting. He’s a fool for this man.
The hand in his hair goes blessedly tight and he ceases his movements at once. Steve pulls him back by the fistfull of his hair, movement slow.
“Fuckin’ impatient,” Steve purrs, unintentionally but a purr nonetheless because of the gravelliness of his voice. Because of the smoke. “You’re lucky I’m not feelin’ up to reprimanding you. But you already knew that didn’t you? Already takin’ advantage of your Daddy?”
Steve’s hand goes to his own pants, the dark briefs peeking through his open zip, before Bucky can answer. From where he is kneeling he can see the bulge of Steve’s cock and he whimpers, barely has the mind to be embarrassed by such a reaction to almost nothing, a tease. But then Steve backtracks, brings the cigar up between his lips, holds it between his teeth in the corner of his mouth before his hands are coming back down to his pants.
Bucky doesn’t know what to watch, where to keep his eyes— Steve’s mouth or Steve’s cock.
Bucky’s decision is made when Steve tucks the waistband of his briefs under his heavy balls, wraps his hand around himself and strokes a few times. Bucky’s decision shifts the moment Steve doesn’t stop stroking himself and brings his other hand up to his mouth, fingers reaching for his cigar once more and inhaling.
And then Steve groans with his exhale, another noise that Bucky swears makes his own chest tremble, even from a noise that isn’t his own. Smoke wafts in the air above him, the Senator’s chin tipped as he clearly savors the present moment as he lets his eyes fall shut. Bucky feels like he’s on the edge of hysteria. He’s bending at the waist and mouthing desperately at Steve’s sac before he can remind himself to be good.
“Want you to suck me off good now, you hear me? Deserve it after this fuckin’ week…”
Steve doesn’t stop touching himself, even with Bucky’s mouth on him. His tongue lavs over Steve’s heavy balls, one by one, mouths at them with the light suction and tug that Daddy likes. Steve’s hand on himself is slow, barely considered stroking, but the movements are long and luxurious and Bucky is worried that if even one thing touches his dick in his pants, he’s going to bust.
“Want it sloppy, want it good. Don’t you go losin’ yourself in it like you always do; this is about Daddy. I don’t wanna think, don’t wanna focus on you and what you want. Just wanna sit here and smoke this cigar and enjoy the inside’a your mouth.”
Fuck. Bucky throbs between his legs, aches in his balls, wonders if it’s possible to remain in the present when he already feels himself slipping. He chases Steve’s hand, leaves openmouthed kisses along the hot steel of Daddy’s cock where he can, messy ones, Steve not giving a shit if Bucky’s mouth is in the way of his strokes.
“You’re gonna suck on my cock until I’m done with my smoke and then you’re gonna make me come. You know what I like. You hear me?”
The base of his neck tingles, his chest pulls tight. Bucky almost wishes Steve’s hand was back in his hair to help hold up his head. He moans into Steve’s cockhead, wraps his lips around it and sucks. When Steve moans, Bucky follows with his own noise, one laced with a tinge of desperation. Steve’s fist meets his mouth as he slurps and works his tongue on that familiar tip, his moan building into a continuous and hungry whine.
They work in time for a few strokes, all on Bucky’s part as he knows Steve would knock him out of the way given the chance to chase his own pleasure. When Bucky begins to grow impatient, huffy at not having full access to Daddy’s fat cock, Steve rumbles out a warning noise, exhales long and low.
“I asked you a question, boy.”
The boy makes Bucky crumble, makes his grip on Steve’s hips come to life as he pulls his mouth from Daddy’s cock with a gasp, but the scent of smoke in the air sends him sailing. He rolls his cheek, his body, his hips into any part of Steve he can reach, grovels in one of the most basest of ways.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“‘Yes, Daddy,’ what?”
Bucky curls his hand around Steve’s with a whimper, strokes at Daddy’s cock in time with the older man. Rarely is he ever so impatient and pushy.
“Yes, Daddy. M’gonna suck you off until you’re done with your cigar and...m’gonna stay present for you because...because you deserve it.”
“That’s it,” Steve mumbles, taking his hand away from his cock, patting at Bucky’s cheek roughly.
“Go on, baby.”
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kingsuckjin · 7 months ago
Golden- JJK
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💛 Pairing: (almost entirely)Jungkook x reader, (basically none)Seokjin x reader
💛 Rating: 18+
💛 Genre: friends to lovers but like fluffy but also like very sad.
💛 Summary: After see your boyfriend Jin cheating on you at a bar and realizing your shared friends have been working together to hide it from you, you storm off into the parking lot to cry. Jungkook sees you out there and tells you the truth about everything, or what he wants you to believe is the truth.
💛 Words: almost 16k
💛 Warnings: CHEATING!!! “only one-bed” cliché but I love it, drinking, oral sex(m&f), protected sex and unprotected sex, dirty talk, overestimation, vaginal fingering, love kink?, too much smut, uhhh Jungkook is a bit of a stalker.
💛 Note: listen, I just wanted an excuse to write a gratuitous amount of Jungkook fluff and smut and I also love hurting. I thought I should throw in, these two characters are not actually in love, there are reasons it moves so fast, but it's not love.
❤ also a very big thank you to @btsaudge​ who beta read this whole thing for me, she’s not only a god tier beta reader but a god tier writer too ❤
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“Where are you?” Jin was supposed to be home an hour ago. He had been doing this off and on for the past few months. You’d be lying if you hadn't wondered if things were beginning to fall apart later. You knew Jin would never do anything he wasn’t supposed to, especially not with the other guys there. You knew he was probably just having fun and part of you felt awful for wanting to keep tabs on him, you didn’t want to ruin his time by pestering him the whole time.
You paced as you waited for a reply but none came.
“Is Jin okay?” You sent to Namjoon now and he replied pretty quickly.
“Yeah, I’ve got an eye on him. We’re just over here at Gold’s bar telling old stories.” 
“Thank you.” You replied. You knew Jin could be a handful after having too many drinks but entrusted them with him.
You tried to sit back down and open your laptop up only to just blankly gaze at the screen. You were bored. Writer's block had hit you hard and you just didn’t feel like writing right now. You missed Jin tonight. You thought about the trip you had saved up for with the money from your last book. Sleepless hours were poured into making that book special all because you and Jin had shared a dream of vacationing in Hawaii together. All of your money went to it, every cent besides the shared rent, you wanted to surprise him and you just couldn’t find the right time to do it. He was a lawyer, not the best yet, so he had many sleepless hours too. You both deserved this trip.
You wondered for a moment if you dressed up and showed up if it would make him happy, especially if you finally told him about the trip tonight. You figured if you waited until he got home he would just pass right out and you wouldn’t get the chance. Again, you didn’t want to bother him with his friends, but then again he had spent many nights with them drinking and you were sure there were more to come, one night of you showing up couldn’t hurt.
You closed your laptop and went to your closet to find the black dress he loved so much on you, you only got it out for special occasions, and one of these days you planned on wearing it when he proposed. You knew him proposing was coming, he had been talking about it here and there lately “After we’re married…” or “when I make you my wife…” this was how life was supposed to go and you thought you couldn’t have picked a more relaxed person to share life with and you did your best to match his laid back attitude.
You got an Uber to Gold’s bar, it wasn’t a long ride, just long enough to make you further worry about ruining his time tonight. 
The first person you saw was Taehyung sitting at the bar with a pretty lady, obviously flirting like the ladies man he was. 
You tapped him on the shoulder and when he turned he seemed surprised to see you for a moment.
“Where’s Jin?” You asked over the music that was playing slightly too loud and it just wasn’t your taste in music anyway.
“I saw him over there.” He pointed to a corner of the building, and you saw him alright. You saw past the people and even passed the girl pressed into him, both leaned on the wall. 
“What are you doing here?” Came another voice.
You looked away from the scene and at Yoongi. Your eyes felt wide and your mouth fluttered open and closed. You didn’t know what to say or to think, or what was happening. Were you tired? Were you seeing things? Had your sweet and kind boyfriend just been making out with another woman with all of his and your friends here to witness it? You were confused? Did they all know something you didn’t?
You turned back around, afraid you would see the scene again, but you didn’t. There was no one against the wall. The place was dim, maybe you had just thought it was Jin.
“Want a drink?” Yoongi offered.
All you could do was just nod. 
Your eyes kept scanning the faces of people to find Jin, you were so lost and set on finding him that you were surprised to see the shot in front of your face Yoongi had gotten for you. You took it, you had no idea what it was even as it burned your throat.
“Looking for Jin huh?” Yoongi asked and sat down at one of the stools at the bar before patting the seat next to him.
“Well he’ll find us, I think he’s around here with Namjoon somewhere, might’ve gone to throw up.” 
“Yeah.” You replied but still felt nervous. Another shot was brought to both you and Yoongi.
“Was-was he pretty drunk when you saw him last?” You asked.
“He always gets pretty plastered, you know that.” 
“Sweetie!!!!” It was his voice.
You turned in the stool to see a smiling Jin coming in your direction, arms stretched wide. “What are you doing here?” He seemed happy and pretty drunk and he leaned over, wrapped his arms around you, and placed his cheek on your head. 
You felt relieved he wasn’t upset you were there.
“I’ve missed you all night.” He kissed the top of your head.
“God, you’re loud when you’re drunk,” Yoongi muttered to him.
When he released your smile that had grown from his embrace and hug faltered.
There was red lipstick on his neck.
“Jin what happened?” You asked, your hands had become sweaty as the scene you had witnessed earlier flashed through your mind.
“What do you mean?” He still wore a big smile.
“Jin, you have lipstick-“ you couldn’t finish your sentence. You turned to Yoongi just to make sure you weren’t going crazy and he had turned back away to face the bar.
You could feel your pulse thud hard as your brain further tried to rationalize it but to no avail. He must’ve caught on because he wiped at the place on his neck where your gaze was fixed. Your eyes flickered back to his nervous-looking brown eyes that were always so full of joy and laughter, the ones that always felt like home to you. Everything about this situation felt so wrong like a nightmare, you felt sick. This couldn’t be your Jin, it wasn’t your Jin, it was some strange cold stranger pretending to be him, but the more you looked at him the more you realized you were wrong. You felt tears well in your eyes and knew your strong front was beginning to dissolve and break apart like paper in water. 
That was it.
You took off for the door, you looked back and saw Jin trying to stumble after you, but Taehyung had stopped him.
You were left in tears in the parking lot, you felt your phone go off in your hand but your brain was in too much of an anger and hurt haze to care. You were looking for a place to break down, anywhere, but you sure as hell weren’t planning on going back in there. Your whole relationship with Jin was flashing through your mind and it felt like your heart had been burned, burned with the image of him and someone else the way her lipstick has been burned onto his neck.
You began to sob as you walked around parked cars. You were caring less and less who saw you break down. You felt so alone and exposed especially when a man sitting on the hood of his car began to stare.
“Y/n?” The voice questioned. Through your tear-blurred vision, you could see the screen of his phone light up his shocked-looking face.
“How’d you get here so fast? I just-“ he stood from his seat on his car hood.
“Seokjin cheated on me.” You sobbed in the ugliest crying voice you had ever heard come from yourself.
Your fists grabbed the material of his jacket and you hurried your face in its collar.
His hands went to the middle of your back and hugged you silently for a moment. It just felt so good to have someone comfort you when everyone else seemed not to care or ignore you altogether. Even if it was awkward Jungkook.
You recalled the time where he once showed up at your University and just wanted to hang out for seemingly no reason. The whole two hours he was with you, he stayed silent. You thought he had wanted to visit you because you were friends but it left you wondering if he was ju9st trying to kill time or something. You also remember Jin not being too happy about it when you told him, maybe Jin wasn't too understanding back then.
“He was kissing someone else and I-I-“ you trailed off into a series of gaspy hiccups.
“I know.” He sighed.
“What?” You took a step back but still didn’t release him.
“Your phone. Check your phone.” He instructed.
You unlocked it to see a lengthy text from him. It was hard to read it and stay focused, you were shivering out of school or the chill in the air from this dress. You skimmed it but you shook worse the more you stood there. Attached were two pictures of Jin and the woman kissing in the same way and position that you had seen them.
You looked up at Jungkook with tears streaming down your cheeks, your lip quivered, your body shivered and he looked down at you with sorrow knitted into his furrowed brows.
“I’m sorry. They had always told me not to say anything, that it wasn’t my business, that I’d make you both unhappy if I-“ 
Your teeth were still chattering as you looked up at him.
He took his coat off silently before draping it around your shoulders. You fed your arms through the armholes that were way too big on you.
“Come on, let’s get you… let’s get you warm.” He went around to the passenger’s side and opened his car door. You didn’t resist, at least you could break down somewhere private.
You held your head in your hands as you sobbed over the sound of the engine and heat warming the car. He sat there quietly, not saying anything at all, but you didn’t blame him for it, he had always been awkward with people, especially you, but at least he seemed to care more than anyone else tonight.
You cried until only your hiccups remained. Your head rested against the headrest as you looked out the windshield at the night sky, it was starless.
“You- you uh wouldn’t want to go home would you.” It was a statement, he knew you wouldn’t. “Is there- somewhere I can take you? You could come with me… if you want.” 
“I don’t know, I don’t know if I want to be anywhere, but I can’t go home.” You stated knowing you weren’t making complete sense.
“We don’t have to go to my house just yet, we can do anything you want… but I do understand if you want to be somewhere where you can just be sad.”
“I don’t want to be sad.” You sniffled once more and wiped at your face “I don’t want to be anywhere sad. I wanted to have fun…”
“I know somewhere we can have fun.” 
Before you could answer he was pulling out of the parking lot.
It was quiet for a while as you just looked out the window.
“I know what it’s like you know.”
You turned to look at his face as he drove, lights every so often passing over his face.
“You’ve been cheated on too.” It wasn’t a question so much as a sad statement that came from your mouth. 
“That’s what made me want you to know so badly. It tore my heart out and sometimes I wish …I never would’ve found out, it hurt. I know it hurts.”
“I’m so sorry Jungkook.” You whispered. Sometimes he was weird, but you knew he had always had a good heart. 
“Sometimes things like that just happen, it doesn’t make it hurt less, but it does help to know you’re not alone… that and getting shit-faced.” He joked making you let out an amused puff of breath as you felt yourself smile just a little.
“Are we going somewhere with alcohol?” You asked.
“Of course. It’s on the house tonight.”
“You’re a good one Jungkook.” You replied.
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You looked up at the big neon bowling ball and pins at the top of the building as you sat in the parked car.
“Bowling?” You asked and looked down at your dress. He was such a weird person.
“Just trust me.” 
So you did trust him, after all, it was better than being at home alone or worse, at home with Jin.
When you walked into the bowling alley it was dark, but there were laser lights and strobes and glowing lights and music played loudly but not as near as deafening as it did at the bar. It seemed like you were the only two here, besides one older guy playing alone at the very end lane.
You took a seat at a table at the opposite end and simply just waited, but the more you were alone with your thoughts the more what happened played through your mind. 
How long had Jin been cheating on you? Had he knowingly been cheating on you while talking about you being his wife someday?
You felt tears sting your eyes again, it was harder to hold them back this time.
Jungkook came back with an entire pitcher of beer and a plastic cup he sat on the table before he looked at you.
You tried to shield your crying eyes. You felt stupid crying at a bowling alley you weren’t even bowling at.
You heard the sounds of him pouring beer into the cup and you heard the cup scoot across the table.
You put your hand down, picked up the cup, and downed it.
“I know it’s hard not to think about, and I know it hurts. You shouldn’t be so embarrassed about crying.” Somehow he was able to read you “we’re pretty much the only ones here.” 
“I know, it just feels so strange crying in such an open place. I’m glad I’m here though.” 
He looked to be thinking about your words for a moment before ducking down in the seat and disappearing under the table.
“Come here,” he asked from under the table as you poured more beer in the plastic cup.
You followed him down under the table miraculously without spilling your drink.
He gave you the biggest, sweetest toothy smile and you couldn’t help but return it. You felt like a child playing hide and seek. 
He began to sing along to September by Earth Wind and Fire that played throughout the bowling alley, even physically reenacting the words just to make you laugh. Behind him, past the table were the prettiest lights. You felt so comfortable, warm, and safe in his yellow jacket.
“Are you okay?” He asked with slight concern.
“Yeah.” You snapped out of it and took another drink of your drink before offering him some.
“No, I have to drive. I got it for you, it’s all yours.” He declined.
“Thank you, for all of this.” You told him “it has made me feel better, I owe you so much.” 
“Don’t mention it.” He shrugged and you couldn’t help but notice just how sturdy his shoulders looked, and his thick tattooed upper arms.
His eyes were just as big and sparkling as when you had met him in high school. You tried to think back on the exact point you met him but you couldn’t remember.
“Jungkook, when did we meet, do you remember?” You asked him curiously.
“Mhm. I remember.” He gave you a nod. “We were all at Seokjin’s and we were setting up monopoly but had to wait because he was waiting on someone else. When you walked in the door I…”
“You just stared at me the whole time, I felt so unwelcome.” You laughed as you remembered.
You looked over at him to see him looking down and playing with one of the chunky rings on his fingers with a shy smile, his shaggy dark waves threatening to obstruct your view of his sheepishness. He was no longer that quiet and shy bowl-cut boy, well, in a sense was, but not to you anymore. He had tattoos all over him and long hair, his ears had a few rings in each. You wondered how someone so sweet could look like that. He was a paradox all on his own and you simply just never understood it, maybe that’s why you had felt like he was a little weird.
“The funny thing was, I had never seen you at school before that, but I saw you everywhere after.”
“I remember the same thing happening.” You replied as your mind went to seeing him in the halls and recalling the little waves he would give you. It made you smile recalling him then and looking at him now.
“You’ve always been so good, Kook.”
His reply was a shy scoffing noise before thanking you.
You noticed the cup you held was empty and looked down at it.
“Want me to get you more up top?” He pointed up and you nodded. He took your cup and told you to stay put as if you might be planning on crawling away. You felt safe here under this table with him, it was like your feelings couldn’t find you as long as you hid under here with him.
He bumped his head on the way back down making you burst out into laughter.
“You think that’s funny you sadist?” He joked as he smiled big and you continued to laugh at him “is that what it takes to make you laugh?” He teased as he handed you your refilled drink. “You know what would be hilarious? Me walking out here and getting hit by a car. You would be in tears with laughter.”
You still laughed but shook your head.
“You know what I think?” He lifted a brow at you “I think you’re drunk.” He accused you.
“No, definitely not. No way.” You denied but both of you knew it was a joke. Everything seemed to lag just a bit and you felt so silly. Your confidence was through the roof and every time you looked at him your heart raced. 
“I think you’re drunk.” You accused him back.
“Me? How? I haven’t drank anything all night.” His warm smile never ended and you swore he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.
“I think you’re so drunk that you think I’m drunk.” 
“No no.” You continued with your play fight. “If I was drunk could I do this?” You simply just took another drink of beer.
“Yes?” He chuckled. His laugh alone was enough to make your stomach feel like it was jumping into your throat.
You don’t know what got into you, you don’t know why you did it, but you reached forward and placed your hand on his knee.
There was silence for a moment as he looked down at it. He picked it up and he didn’t quite hold it but took it in a weird handshake way and let your conjoined hands be somewhere in the space between you.
He looked at you and smiled.
“I’m cutting you off. No more drinks for you.” You couldn’t tell if he was joking, or he was hinting for you to stop, your drunk brain had no idea. Instead of trying to figure out if he was rejecting you, you turned his hand over in yours and looked at his hand tattoos and rings, running your hand over each one. You had once heard his tattoos were for his family, but you didn’t know. You let go of his hand and held his arm as you examined those too, some had words you’re drunk brain couldn’t comprehend the meaning of.
“What’s after this?” He asked as he let you look over his skin.
You thought about it.
“I don’t want to go home.” You knew that much. “And I have no friends except…” actually you didn’t have friends anymore.
“My house it is then.” 
“I don’t have to if- I wouldn’t want to…”
“It’s alright, I don’t mind. I just want to know you’re safe and not in pain… unless you’d feel too uncomfortable.”
“I trust you.” You locked eyes with him. It was the truth, Jungkook had never hurt anyone ever that you can recall. He hadn’t even been mad at any of the others, even when he should’ve been sometimes. If you were bothering him he never would’ve said it, and knowing that made you feel worse, it made you feel like you were.
“I don’t think you’ve ever been to my house, but I have to warn you, it isn’t the best, I’m just a currently jobless IT guy. Kinda lost my job last week.”
“I’m so sorry Kook. I don’t mind, at least it’s not with Jin.” You finished off what was in your cup, he hadn’t been too serious about cutting you off the drinks.
“I’ll be back.” He let you know before crawling out from under the table.
You went to get out from under the table and the moment you stood all the drinks hit you, you held onto the table for stability as you sat back down at your seat. The pitcher of beer was gone so you had either finished it or he had taken it. Your brain was no longer thinking about Jin thankfully, but unfortunately, it was stuck on Jungkook and the way he looked at you and how his hand had felt in yours. Your breath felt shaky about going home with him, not because you were unsure, but because to you that had to mean something. You tried to separate yourself from your drunk mind and realized you didn’t want to push his boundaries when he was being so kind. You were drunk and he wasn’t and you knew he had morals that you just didn’t right now. You shouldn’t hit on him again, but then again he let you hold his hand, didn’t he? Did he? Would you even call that hand-holding? He hadn’t pulled away but that didn’t mean he wasn’t trying to be nice and that didn’t mean he was uncomfortable. You felt bad about doing it, but the drunk and hurt part of you wanted something, some kind of closeness with anyone so the hurt could be replaced just for now. It was all wrong of you.
Your brain spun as you looked off into nothing at all of the dancing colorful lights of the bowling alley. Maybe Jungkook wanted to take advantage of you, maybe he saw this as an opportunity, and as wrong as that sounded you would’ve been okay with that. Your mind stuck to that idea like a fly stuck in honey.
“Ready?” He asked as he held out his hand for you to help you out of the seat.
You stumbled a bit as you took your first few steps but he grabbed you around the waist.
“Careful.” He said so gently and so patiently but it did nothing to ease your turbulent thoughts and feelings. As he held your body like this, it made you want to hold him back, but you fought the urge. He was just helping you get to the car so you didn’t fall flat on your ass.
He buckled you in murmuring a quiet apology for seemingly no reason.
His car smelled of him. It was funny how you never noticed before he had his own scent, it was a bit like cinnamon or some kind of spice and fresh laundry. It hung all around you, on his coat, the fabric of his car, and even on your hands from touching his. 
You looked at him as he drove, the whole time, and if he noticed he hadn’t said a word about it. You felt fully wrapped in him and yet you ached for more, more than just this casual friendliness.
“Do you promise to tell me if I bother you… in any way at all.” Your mouth blurted out.
“I promise.” You watched him smile at your odd request. “You never have bothered me yet.”
The reassurance was what you needed for your mind to feel content for now.
The silence was comforting after all the music and crying and drinking and all the things you had seen tonight. You almost fell asleep, almost.
The keys jingling and a car door closing woke you up. You looked around to see apartment buildings just as Jungkook opened your side car door. You unbuckled yourself.
“Do you need me to carry-“ 
You got to your feet on your own but grabbed for his arm.
“Wait.” He announced before getting to his knees in the parking lot.
He took your leg in his hand and took off one of your heels before taking the other off. He then put an arm under your leg and one on your back before you were horizontal in his arms.
“There are steps up here. I didn’t want you falling in those shoes.” He commented as he carried you and your shoes. You wrapped your arms around his neck so he might have an easier time.
“Would you laugh if I fell down the stairs?” 
“Only for a second.” He teased
“You sadist.” You snorted.
The way his body and muscles felt against you as he packed you up the stairs to his apartment door made you more lightheaded than all the alcohol you had tonight.
He put you down to unlock his door but his hands went back into you to help you walk through it.
He flipped on the lights to reveal his apartment.
His living room area consisted of a mattress on the floor with dark blue sheets and a blanket, it faced a big TV on a stand with game systems and even a computer tower.
The headboard of his bed was the bar that separated the tiny kitchen from the living area.
To the far side were two doors, you assumed one was a bathroom and another door that looked like it slid open could be a closet.
“Quaint, right?” He asked.
“It’s very you.” You said as you breathed the scent of him hanging all around you.
“I was thinking you could have the bed and I could sleep on the floor.” He commented.
“Haven’t you been sleeping on the floor anyway?” You joked. “It’s a big bed, but it also could be a couch. So I could have the couch and you could have the bed. I don’t see any other way around this.”
“You’re okay with us both sharing…?” He asked as if you hadn’t already been thinking about it before you found out the only place to sit or lay in here was his bed.
“Do you mind?” You asked.
“Uh uh.” He shook his head and took off across the room. You wobbled on over to his bed and had a seat. You watched as he slid the closet door open.
He threw a pair of pajama pants and a white t-shirt behind him onto the bed before pulling out more clothes he kept in his arms.
“The bathroom is-“ 
You cut him off by pointing to the only other room in the apartment. You picked up the clothes and he asked if you needed help getting in there but you shook your head.
You had to hold onto the sink as you dressed in the foreign fabric of his clothing, but even though it felt odd, you still felt comfortable. You did your best to drunkenly wash your face before coming back out. The room was dim, and the Netflix home page was the only light. He was in the tiny open kitchen half of the room in grey sweatpants and a black shirt setting a glass of water onto the island.
“Drink.” He pointed and you did as he asked but could only stomach half the glass. You were sure to thank him for his kind gift of water before you went over to his bed on the floor and got in.
“Here.” He placed a remote on your torso before crawling into the bed himself.
But you didn’t want to watch anything at all. Being next to him was enough entertainment for you.
You looked over at him, hands comfortably resting behind his head, waiting for you to pick something. 
You passed the remote back to him by placing it on his stomach and found his open side too inviting for you not to want with all of your heart.
You rolled onto your side and scooted closer and closer until you put your head on the place between his armpit and shoulder. He didn’t stop you from laying on his chest. He turned the tv off making the room go dark before he let his arm fall around you and cradle you.
You laid in silence a moment.
“Tomorrow is going to be better.” He whispered but you were already drifting from the closeness and peace you felt for now. You took a deep breath in and held his scent in your nose for a moment so it would permanently brand into your brain.
“You smell so good.” You muttered already half asleep.
You heard yet another amused scoff come from him and felt the little laugh on his chest under your head.
“Go to bed.” He joked.
And you did, as you listened to his rhythmic heartbeat, beat after steady beat, unfailing and never letting you down. There was always another right after the last.
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The quiet click of a door woke you. You could see sunlight flooding through your closed eyelids, you could feel the warmth in the bed and on your skin. As you laid there you could hear other little sounds, straining to be quiet but failing.
Your eyes opened and you were disoriented for a moment.
You sat up but realized the noises were coming from behind.
“Jungkook?” You sleepily let out as you winced at the bright light coming through the sheer curtains from behind the tv.
“I’m sorry if I woke you up.” You heard his apologetic voice. 
“No, it was just time to get up.” You grunted as you gave a stretch hard enough your bones cracked.
“Want some cereal?” 
You both casually sat in the bed eating. He had given you a massive bowl of cereal you felt obligated to finish. He was fully dressed while you sat there still in his pajamas.
“You want to stay again today?” He asked bluntly as his eyes focused on whatever anime he had turned on.
“I couldn’t Jungkook, you’ve been so kind and I just-“
“I don’t mind.” He shrugged and crunched up another bite.
“Why?” You decided to ask but he shrugged again.
“Having someone here is kind of fun. It’s like a sleepover I guess.” 
He was so childish in the oddest ways, it was kind of charming. You began to remember all of your thoughts from last night and thanked yourself for not trying too hard to make him uncomfortable. He pushed back his hair with his hands before taking another bite of the colorful cereal. He had the heart and empathy of an angel, even with the tattoos on his hands that he ate his kids’ cereal with.
“Then what are we doing today Kook?” You asked.
“You need clothes. Also, do you know how to skateboard?”
You felt those two things in the same breath were a bit odd but that was just him.
Before long, you found yourself in a cheap store grabbing whatever would fit you and you could wear in public and not feel too bad about it.
“Why’d you ask if I could skateboard?” You asked as he pulled out of the store parking lot. You had already gotten dressed in the bathroom and were ready for whatever weird thing he wanted to do.
“Do you?” 
“No.” You shook your head.
“Wanna learn?”
“I’m going to teach you how Yoongi taught me when I was sixteen.”
“How did he teach you?” 
“He taught me not to be scared.” Was his only reply, and you accepted it. You liked the element of surprise he added to everyday life, you liked how he didn’t take a lot too seriously. You admired that. Your life with Jin had always been work amongst jokes now and then but it hadn’t felt fun, even when you were both young. You felt like you could probably learn a lot from Jungkook.
“Let’s get some food first. It’s almost dinner time, are you hungry? You kept a while and all you’ve eaten today was cereal.” 
You paid for lunch. You got some fries you picked at between watching the wind blow through his hair as you ate outside at a little burger place. He stuffed his mouth full with every bite. A mess of tomatoes and condiments would drop from the burger and onto the wrapper in his lap.
“What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?” You asked him.
“Hmmm.” He thought with a mouthful. “Maybe live in a better house.” 
“That’s it?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the simplicity of what he desired.
“Yeah.” He smiled and wiped his mouth. “You?” 
“I wanted to live or at least visit somewhere warm. I was supposed to go on a trip to Hawaii with Jin, it was a surprise… I wanted to live there one day but he has to work here.” you felt yourself falling back into the heartbreak.
“You don’t need him to go to Hawaii. You could move there now if you wanted and no one could hold you back.” 
“Yeah.” You agreed but it sounded sad.
“You afraid of being alone?” He asked a question that hit you too hard. 
All of your adult life and even your teenage years all you knew was Seokjin, you had always had someone there, your parents or Jin, you had never really had to be alone or think of a future with only yourself until now.
“No.” You lied. There was a strange quiet.
“I’m sorry if that-“
“You should come with me to Hawaii.” You blurted out fully interrupting him.
“Do you want that?” He questioned as if you hadn’t thought it through, and you hadn’t but that didn’t mean you didn’t mean it.
“Yes. Do you?” You were so afraid of him saying no and you didn’t quite know why.
“It’s not like I don’t have anything I can just put on hold for… however long. It’ll be fun. I’d like that.” 
The conversation felt like something more to you somehow, like some secret agreement was just made.
“We should do this before it gets dark.” He commented “ready?” 
Your fries were cold and you had been just waiting on him to finish eating.
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You took at the top of the street on a hill with him after walking a block from where he had parked and dragged a skateboard out of the backseat.
“This is where Yoongi taught me to skateboard, he pushed me down here.” He pointed to the steep road that luckily wasn’t too busy.
“And you’re going to push me down it? I’d kill you.” You crossed your arms disapprovingly.
“No, see, you’re going to push yourself down it. If you sit on the skateboard it will be easier and you probably won’t fall, it will be fun.”
“Your idea of fun gets crazier and crazier.” You pointed out.
“Sit, I’ll stay behind you.” 
“No, because it’s going to pick up speed faster than you can run as I’m going down the hill.” Your brain had already torn the scenario apart and your chances of getting hurt were probably around one hundred percent. Even though you knew that you sat down on the skateboard.
“Okay, now just look down, get a feel for it, take it in.” He instructed as you looked down at the steeply sloping road below.
“Jungkook this is dangerous.” You commented.
He stood behind you and wrapped his arms around you in kind of a hug.
“You’re okay, nothing bad is going to happen to you, alright? I’m right here.” He whispered and you nodded. “Close your eyes, keep them closed.” 
You did as he asked you could feel him wheeling you closer and closer. Put your feet down to stop you from going just yet. I’m going to let go, you’re going to count to ten and without opening your eyes, you’re going to push yourself. Stay as still as you can even if you’re scared. Only open them when I have you.”
Your breath shook, but you gave him confirmation.
“Count.” He said as he released you.
You slowly counted, the nerves in your stomach growing the higher each number got. You gripped the bottom of the board with both hands and when you got to ten you used your legs to push off before tucking them back onto the board.
You let out a scream as you felt the speed at which you were falling, you could feel tears in your squeezed closed eyes.
He caught you by the arm. It was all over before it had even started.
You were breathing heavily and clung to his jacket.
“You’re safe, you’re okay.” He assured you and helped you to your feet.
You were at the bottom of the hill and your heart was racing with your eyes still watering. 
“Are you crying?” He grinned.
“JUNGKOOK I COULD’VE DIED!” You slapped at his arm but he dodged it only making him laugh more at your annoyance.
“Look! You did that by yourself!” He commented with proudness.
“I could’ve died.” You repeated.
“But you didn’t.” He still wore a grin.
The sunset filtering through his dark hair, his laughter, and him trying to escape you chasing him by walking backward felt oddly beautiful. His skin looked a shade of golden like this.
You pulled on his jacket to pull him in, you thought about kissing him, everything in you told you to preserve this moment. Would he let you? Would he let you at least hold his hand again?  but instead, you wrapped your arms around him.
“Today is better, thank you.” You squeezed him. Your arms stayed around him for as long as his stay on your back. It was a while that you both just stood there hugging in the street like dumbasses.
“What do you want to do now?” He asked as he released you “you’ve put up with me all day so it’s your turn to pick.”
“Honestly,” you both began the trek back to his car. “I just want another drink.”
“Understandable. Let’s stay home and drink tonight, it will be easier.” He suggested.
“I would rather.” You agreed you interlocked your arm in his as you walked, and again he let you. You wondered for a moment why he was letting you be this close to him and touch him so much, but he never initiated it. You decided thinking about any of that was not for the best and you let it go.
You stopped at a liquor store and got more vodka and snacks than either of you would ever need for one night.
Before you started drinking you both took a turn having a shower and he started some laundry. Everything was so casual with the both of you, eating chips on the bed while he beat your ass at a fighting game three times in a row, he did let you win three times after that to make up for it. The loser had to take a shot and now you each had three.
“Last one. You’re going to win and I’m going to switch games.” You announced as you picked your character. 
“You don’t know if I’m going to win.” You could hear the smile in his voice. You knew it was either he won or he let you win, and he let you win yet again.
“Don’t be such a hero.” You laughed as he had to gulp down the fourth drink of vodka. His nose wrinkled at the taste.
“Let’s just play something both of us have an equal shot at winning. Since you’re good at video games it can’t be that.” You decided. You thought about what you could do that didn’t require much skill if any. You scooted closer to him on the mattress on the floor so you could face him, knee to knee.
“Got it. Hold up five fingers.” You told him and did the same.
“I know this game.” He said holding up five tattooed fingers.
“Good, loser takes three shots.” You made up the rules and he nodded in agreement. You scooted in closer and he faced you. You were going into dangerous territory with this and you knew it, but let it go under the guise of: this is just for fun.
“Put a finger down if you’ve ever gotten black out drunk.” You said and he put a finger down and you didn’t.
“Put a finger down if you’ve thrown up in public.” He said and neither of you put a finger down.
“Put a finger down if you’ve ever… eaten something off of someone’s body.” You watched as his finger stayed up but you put yours down.
“Are you trying to lose?” He laughed
“We’re even.” You pointed out.
“Not for long. Put a finger down if you’ve ever had public sex.”
You put a finger down.
“Put a finger down if… you’ve ever… let someone win in a game.” You laughed as you brought up earlier and he put a finger down.
“Put a finger down if… you’re y/n.” He grinned.
“You know what? Just give me the damn three shots, I forfeit.” You sighed knowing that it was time to play dirty in every sense of the word.
“I’ll take three with you.” He decided. Of course he would, he was the kindest man ever. You could’ve already guessed he would say that before he even did.
You took them together and only let yourself grimace after the last one.
“Again, I’ll start this time.” He announced, screwing the cap on the vodka. You could hear him slur his speech just a little.
You both held up five fingers once again.
“Put down a finger if you’ve ever had a pregnancy scare.”
Neither of you put down a finger, but the questions were beginning to get a bit more heavy. He seemed to have the same idea as you.
“You’ve ever had someone cum inside of you or came inside of someone without a condom.” You were stepping up your questions now but neither of you were putting fingers down.
“If anyone has ever gone down on you for more than thirty minutes.” He asked but again you both still had five fingers. “Wow, that really sucks for us.” He muttered.
“If you’ve ever had a thing for someone in your friends circle.” You announced. Slowly but surely you both put down a finger. Your drunk beau was ignoring the little voice in your head screaming at you to stop. Jungkook was your friend, a friend who might even have the same feelings as you did right now.
“If you’ve ever thought about kissing someone in your friend circle.” He asked and put a finger down and so did you. You felt like you were both edging towards the inevitable and dangerous with questions like this, but you couldn’t shut your mouth.
“If you’ve ever thought about fucking them.” Your own question made you swallow as you both put a third finger.
“If you’ve ever thought about what it would be like to be in a relationship with them.” He asked quietly. Your fourth fingers went down together.
There was only one left and it was your turn. You both knew now you were talking about each other, but it was hard to believe. You were scared it wasn’t you, maybe he was into guys too. You just had to ask, you had to.
Your eyes locked. You felt nervous. He looked nervous as he bit at his lip between those two front teeth you were becoming so fond of seeing when he smiled.
“Put a finger down if…” it was hard to speak, you had to swallow down the knot of nerves in your throat and take a deep breath before continuing “if the person we’re talking about is each other.”
His pointer finger curled down and so did yours.
 “For how long?” You asked.
“From the start.” He admitted. “But you’ve never felt that way.”
“I do now.” You leaned in. At least now you were sure how he felt, or at least you thought.
He stopped you by placing a hand on your arm.
“I don’t want it to be like this.” His voice was so quiet it was barely above a whisper.
You sat back and waited for him to explain.
“I don’t want it to be… I don’t want to be a rebound. I think friendship comes before feelings anyway and that’s why I did this. I don’t want to kiss you while we’re drunk, I don’t want you to regret anything.” 
“Oh.” You let out. 
“I can’t do this when you’re drunk and sad and trying to fill a void, that wouldn’t be okay of me to do. I want… I want more than that and you just got out of a relationship… or maybe you didn’t yet… but I can wait until it’s all over, I feel like that’s the right thing to do here.”
You sat there a moment as his drunk words registered in your brain. For just a second you wished you weren’t drunk so you could try to tell him how you were feeling but decided to give it your best shot anyway.
“I like you. I’m sorry I was so blinded by Jin all these years that I couldn’t see you liked me because if I hadn’t been maybe we both could’ve been better off. Maybe I could’ve had more days like this with you, hundreds more where we just do crazy things, where we could just sleep on a mattress on the floor and still feel happy and content with life. Jungkook if I would’ve known you felt this way and I would’ve known how life could be, at any point, then I’d probably be the one cheating. I want you. I want you and it’s not just because I’m afraid to be alone, you make me do things I never would’ve done. And your heart, your heart is made of pure gold. I want us both to just forget everything before now, everything we’ve been through, not because it hurts but because it just feels like it should’ve been us all along. And if you only knew how many times I’ve had to stop myself from kissing or touching you today when I was perfectly sober and perfectly happy…”
“I want that. I’ve wanted that.” He seemed like he was talking to himself more than you.
He was now the one leaning forward and your face got stuck in his pull.
Your lips met very gently and your eyes drifted closed so you could lose yourself in it.
His tongue wasn’t at all rough or demanding with yours, but it was needy.
You climbed into his lap and not a minute passed between that time and the time he was helping you fall backward, settling himself between your legs so effortlessly.
Your hands ran under his shirt slowly, creeping up until his shirt bunched prompting him to sit up and take it off.
You could feel him hard between your legs but there was so much fabric separating the both of you that it became frustrating to buck into him.
“I can’t fuck you.” He decided to your dismay. “But I just want to feel you.” 
You let him slide your shirt off so your bare chests were pressed together as mouths continued to move together in new ways every second, patternless unlike his heartbeat but exciting like the things he made you do.
He yanked the blankets up around you both and let himself grind into you slowly as you whimpered for more.
Your mouth went to his neck, sucking at his skin passionately and listening to the beautiful moans he made for you. You could’ve done this to him all night, just taste his skin and let his spit intermix with yours, but he decided to bite off even more.
His head sunk and he took a nipple in his mouth. The feeling went right to your throbbing and needy clit.
“Oh god fuck me.” You breathed “please just let me closer. I need more.” 
He pinched at your nipple softly between his teeth and you gripped his shoulder.
“I’m so wet, I don’t think one ever wanted anything mo-“
His mouth left your breast and yanked his pajama pants off of you and took off the ones he was wearing as you finished kicking off yours.
You were both down to your underwear now though you wished it was less.
While you weren’t going to force him to do anything he didn’t want to, it sure seemed like he wanted to do this.
You felt him reach into his underwear and adjust himself before rutting into you again with a groan.
Your hands freely moved across his skin, feeling goosebumps that had risen under your touch.
You knew that you were so wet at this point that it had to leak through the fabric of both yours and his underwear, you knew he felt it.
“Is there anything I’m allowed to do? Kook, you’re killing me.” You whined.
“I don’t have condoms.” He commented.
“I get a birth control shot but I understand if you don’t want to…” you trailed off.
“I don’t know what I want to do… I- but I think I have an idea. Let’s take the last of it off.” 
He seemed nervous as you both kicked off your remaining two pieces, and then you were bare for each other.
“You’re not a virgin right?” You asked from the way he was acting so nervously. 
“Oh. No, no. I- Uh I just feel like it’s wrong still... like I’m not supposed to. This can’t be happening.” He reached down between the both of you again.
“Nothing has to happen-“ 
“I’m so hard.” It was a whisper of a breathless whine that interrupted you. His knuckles brushed your folds and you realized he had his cock in his hand, pumping it slowly.
“Why the fuck are you so unbelievably hot?” Tumbled from your mind and fell from your mouth.
“You need to be seeing things from my view right now.” He looked over what parts of your body he could “dear god.” 
He finally released his cock and let it fall between your folds. He gave a thrust and felt the weight of his cock slide against your clit because of the wetness.
You didn’t expect him to shove his fingers into you, but that alone was enough to nearly make you cum from all the teasing he had put you through.
He pulled them out and held his sticky thoroughly coated fingers in the air.
“Oh my god.” He whispered quickly and shakily. 
You had never, ever been this wet in your life. You could hear the sound as he spread your juices and his pre-cum over his cock and brought it back to place it between your folds.
He came back down and every time he thrust how his slick cock rubbed your clit over and over.
Moans and whines escaped both of you but it just wasn’t enough for you to imagine him plowing into you, you needed to feel it.
“Oh god, I bet you would feel so fucking good inside of me. I’d cum for you so fast.”
You had earned a soft groan from him, he was losing it.
“I want to fuck you so badly. I want to cum all inside of you. Neither of us had ever done that before, can I?”
You felt him shift the head of his dick to your entrance.
“I will beg you, please do it.” you closed your eyes in a prayer that he actually would.
“Fuck.” he let out as he slipped into you, you took every last inch of him. 
He was already sweating and grunting before he had started thrusting, but after he started jackhammering into you, there was a new look and feel about him. His damp strands hung loosely, his nose crinkled as he hit his lip with the force he was putting into each thrust.
“I’m going to cum.” you announced not even a minute in.
He grabbed one of your legs, threw it over his shoulder, and was pushing hard. Your body bounced at the force, your head bumped the kitchen Island that was his headboard until he dragged your body animalistically lower on the bed.
“I wanna- I wanna hear you.” he panted. 
“Don’t stop- that- keep doing that,” you instructed. He was short on breath and a sweaty mess.
“Go on, I've got you. I've got you,” he assured you, keeping the pace of his hips the same.
Your orgasm crashed into you all at once like a semi-truck through a small building.
You felt like you had just gone down that hill again. Your heart was racing and you knew he was too.
You pulled him into your lips messily as your brain melted into a blissful spice and laundry scented puddle.
He mounded loudly against your lips as his body moved against yours.
“Coming.” He whispered his next few breaths were sharp, pumping into you a few more solid times, you could feel his cum spill into you as his sweaty forehead pressed into yours.
When his hips stilled, there was only the sound of rough breaths, he kept his eyes closed for a moment and swallowed hard.
“How-how was that?” He propped himself above you on shaky arms. In the dark you could see the beads of sweat that pulled on his face and neck, his chest rose and fell and still made no move to pull out of you.
“I-“ you tried to find even a single word for the experience you had just had. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”
He let out a strong huff of a laugh and grinned down at you with the biggest and sweetest eyes that looked to search your face.
“That was something.” He agreed but looked like he had something on his mind. 
He gave you a soft kiss on your lips before he finally pulled out and laid beside you, only to have the embarrassing feeling of his cum leaking from you and down your butt crack.
You jumped up, only making matters worse, cupping your crotch as you took off to the bathroom faster than he could ask any sort of questions.
As you cleaned yourself up you couldn’t believe everything that had happened between you two. you didn’t for a second regret it, the opposite.
As you walked out of the bathroom he was standing on the floor by the bed with only his pajama pants on, holding a bag of chips. He turned to you and laughed.
“We just had sex with the Mortal Kombat music.”
You stood there naked and you couldn’t help but laugh back.
That tender time you had just had together had just been spent jarring fight music and you didn’t even realize. That’s what he did to you. When you were with him the entire world and all of your problems fell away.
You put back on your pajamas, still laughing to yourself as you heard the music still play.
“Now every time I hear it I’ll think of you.” 
“Please don’t associate us having sex with that” you laid back down and he got into the bed with you. 
He fed you a chip and you thought that was pretty cute so you took him by the shirt and pulled him into your lips.
He pulled away for a moment.
“Round two, fight!” 
You laughed so hard at the stupid Mortal Kombat joke that you snorted and he found that pretty amusing. A tickle fight broke out and of course, he got you pinned and of course, you couldn’t help but kiss him again.
A knock at the door interrupted you both making him stiffen and both of your heads turn in the direction of the door.
“What do I do?” You mouthed to him he climbed off of you and sat up.
“Who is it?” He called out.
“Jimin.” The answer came from the other side of the door.
You grimaced at each other and decided to jump up and go hide in his closet. You tucked yourself in between his few shirts and hanging pants and closed the door.
You could hear Jungkook walk to the door and open it. There were now two sets of footprints inside the apartment.
“You weren’t answering any texts and I got worried about you.” You heard Jimin's voice clearly.
“Been busy.” You think Jungkook muttered.
“Looks like it,” Jimin replied with obvious sarcasm. You wondered if it was all the snacks and alcohol on the floor, the video games left on, or the marks that decorated Jungkook’s neck that made him say that.
“You hear about what happened with Jin and y/n the other night at the bar?” Jimin asked and waited a moment “I guess he cheated on her, you were right this whole time about it.”
“It sucks she had to go through all of that. How’s she holding up?” Jungkook was playing dumb.
“I don't know, I haven't talked to her. It's Jin’s business, not mine.” 
That hurt you. You had always thought of you and Jimin as pretty close friends.
“Plus I heard she disappeared anyway. Jin is speculating she took off to Hawaii on her own. Namjoon told me he told the police everything this morning wanting to file a missing person report. He thought it was suspicious she just left all of her stuff, but the police said she hadn’t been gone long enough and they had an argument and probably just wanted to be away from him.”
“Do you think she’s okay?” Jungkook seemed genuinely concerned even though you were right in his closet.
“I don’t know. Yoongi was a little worried she got kidnapped at the bar after she stormed out. I don’t think anyone is looking for her though, I think she just wanted to get away. Also, you kind of disappeared that night at the bar too, didn’t you?” 
Oh shit. Was Jimin putting it all together? 
“I took someone to my place and she stayed a few nights. I don’t think I was there when all of this went down.” Jungkook’s alibi seemed solid, you hadn’t even seen him in the bar when you had gotten there.
“Well, I just wanted to stop by and check in on you.” 
“Thank you.” Jungkook’s reply sounded sincere.
“You should probably clean up a little, maybe get a real bed, it just looks kind of… sad.”
Jimin didn’t sound concerned, he sounded almost mean about it to you.
“Noted. Will do. Thanks for stopping by man.” Jungkook continued to be kind to him until he left.
You stepped out of the closet dumbfounded as Jungkook said nothing about the way Jimin had treated him or nearly accused him. He just got back into bed seemingly unphased. You followed after and just laid there for a moment thinking about times when they had all been mean to him at least once.
“Please don’t let them do that to you.” You asked.
“Hm? Oh. Yeah. That’s just what it’s like being the youngest. I’m used to them looking down on me.” 
“it doesn’t have to be that way.” 
“Why not?” He seemed genuinely interested in what you were saying because he rolled onto his side to face you.
You rolled onto yours to face him in the dark. Hair was in his face but he was looking at you with those big brown eyes.
“It can be you and me against the world if you wanted. If one of our skateboards went flying down a hill, we would be there to catch the other before they got hurt. Do you want to do that with me?” You couldn’t believe you had the guts to ask that but what you couldn’t believe even more was his reply.
“I want to do that with you. Let’s do that. I haven’t let you fall and get hurt yet, have I?” He grinned.
Little did he know that you already had fallen.
You brought your hand up to his face before scooting closer and placing your forehead against his
“Promise me you won’t let me fall.” You whispered.
“I promise.” His answer was instantaneous.
“Then I won’t let you either. Well just protect each other.” 
“Deal.” He replied before connecting your lips. 
As you kissed him you wondered if he felt the same about you as you did him already. He had to know that you were so scared, so terrified of being hurt again and that’s why you wanted to make this deal.
His hand slid down your body and back up causing your shirt to bunch. His warm hand made its way back down your skin again and just as it snaked into the band of his pajama pants you were wearing, a loud hum startled you both.
You were confused for a moment as the room grew slightly brighter.
Your phone was ringing on the wood floor.
You sat up, squinting your eyes as you picked up the phone and looked at the screen that was far too bright.
“Jin.” Your voice wasn’t at all cheerful.
“Are you going to answ-“ Jungkook’s sentence was cut off by the sound of you turning off your phone and putting it back down. 
“I can’t, I just… I don’t want to talk to him right now, I don’t want to feel that right now again… if ever. I saw what I saw and there’s no way he can convince me that I didn't see it or that you didn't too, we have photos. I'm not sure that I really ever want to talk to him again. I feel so… differently about him now and I don’t think there's any repairing that.”
He sat up, picked up his phone from his side, and turned it off too before you both laid back down.
“Good night kook.” You announced with Jin’s call not leaving you feeling right but not wanting to think about it right now.
“Night.” He replied as he pulled you against his body.
Although you tried to refuse your brain the opportunity of letting the thought of Jin right now entirely wreck your time with Jungkook, it was hard. You thought of all the restless nights when you stayed up working as an excuse to wait for Jin to get home from going out or working late. There were rarely nights like this where you could curl up against him, looking back on it there were no nights that you felt as cared about as you did now. A thought stuck to you, one you decided to think more on the next day. Did this all happen for a reason? For both of you? Would all of the suffering you’ve both been through in your relationships be worth it now?.
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You felt something soft and warm on your head. A kiss.
“Morning.” you felt a delicate breath of his whisper on your face.
“Morning.” You muttered. Your eyes stayed closed as you reached out for him and pulled him into you. He let out a quiet laugh as he let you drag him onto you as if he were your teddy bear.
“I’ve been awake a while, I went to the store in my pajamas and I thought you’d be awake by the time I got back.”
“But I wasn’t so you woke me up instead?” 
You felt his hands run up your sides and lift your shirt until the hem and bunched fabric sat under your breasts.
“I missed you.” 
“You missed me?” you couldn't help but smile before it was quickly wiped away by him crawling back a little and kissing the skin above your belly button.
“Mmm.” he hummed an answer before kissing just a bit lower.
“Remember the thing that we both never had?” you looked down to see his big brown eyes look up at you through a mess of dark hair.
It took you a moment with your still sleep fogged brain to realize what he was talking about.
“Hey Siri, set a timer for thirty minutes,”
The robotic voice replied it’s confirmation on his phone, but he was already yanking down your pants and you were lifting your butt so he could get them off.
He gently pushed your legs apart and laid on his stomach between them, starting to run very agonizingly slow kisses up your thigh. With every small warm kiss that felt just too close or every warm breath you felt of his, a tingle of anticipation went through your body. 
“I just keep thinking,” he placed another kiss on your thigh so close you felt his cheek brush against where you needed his mouth the most before he teasingly moved into the other leg “about how I have you right here” another slow kiss “after wanting you for so, so long.” 
His words hit you hard and you knew they were making you wetter. You had never been dirty talked so sweetly before, hell, it wasn’t even dirty yet here you were soaking wet and more than ready for whatever he wanted to do to you just minutes after waking up.
“God only knows” his lips touched your slit now and it was almost too much to bear “how many times I've imagined this.” his tongue dipped into your folds and licked from bottom to top, you moaned a little too loudly and jerked slightly as his wet muscle touched your clit.
You were so ready but his lips went back to your thigh. You said nothing as he repeated this pattern once and then twice, you began to more than look forward to when his tongue would meet your clit again, after the third time you swore you could cum on the next one, he was driving you insane with his teasing pattern, you felt like he was never going to let you have what you wanted.
“Jungkook please!” you nearly yelled as he once again went back to your thigh to start over. He froze, looked up at you through all of that hair with raised eyebrows, and gave you a smile of amusement.
“If you don't stop and just get on with it already then you'll see what I do to you.” you threatened.
“Maybe I'd like to find out.” he retorted.
“Get on with it!” you wailed loudly as you gave him a half pleading glare.
“Make. Me.” he looked you dead in the eyes as he spoke. It was enough to send a feeling that felt like electricity trickling through you. You started to get up to take control but he pulled your hips flat back to the bed with a delighted smile.
“Seriously?” you laughed.
“What are you gonna do?” 
You were growing more sexually frustrated with him by the second.
“Just wait.” you threatened again.
He bent his head down and kissed the folds over your clit. You took the opportunity to place your hand on his head and not let him up.
You felt him give a little laugh before he finally went to work licking and sucking at your bundle of nerves as your fingers twisted in his hair. A few moments later you felt his fingers slip into your wet cunt and press upwards, giving you everything you wanted all at once.
It hit you all at once, your orgasm shot through you. You muttered his name as you gripped his hair tighter and felt him moan into you making the pleasure feel that much better. Even though you had already cum, it was clear he wasn’t about to stop, his fingers and mouth were working you so passionately and quickly. You were so sensitive your legs twitched every time his mouth did something too rough with you, but it just felt so good. 
You looked down at him between your legs as you felt yourself building up again and watched his eyes shut and his head moving between your legs. You don’t know how or why you found it as hot as you did, but it was enough to make you cum again just as the timer on his phone went off.
“Fuck fuck fuck” you breathed as a blissful feeling washed over you like an oven wave
He looked up at you and as soon as he was sure you were done, he stopped. He went to wipe his mouth on the back of his arm when you demanded he take his pants off.
He looked at you with raised eyebrows and a little surprise.
“Tell it to set a timer for thirty minutes.” 
“I-oh-okay. You don’t need to do that if you-“
“Do it.” You demanded once more as you took off your shirt.
“Hey Siri, set a timer for thirty minutes.” He said as he shed himself of his pajamas and sat up.
A thought had crossed your mind to tease him as he had you, but you couldn’t do that. You loved the look of it thick and veiny, the head of it already leaking from everything he had just done to you. You wanted the feeling of it filling your mouth and throat, you wanted to please him.
You watched as his already hard cock stood tall waiting for you to touch it, and you wasted no time doing so. You leaned down only playing with the head in your mouth with your tongue at first, getting a feel for the satisfaction of him inside of your mouth. He gasped when you took him all abruptly into the back of your throat. You decided immediately that you wanted to hear more of that sound so you let your head bob before your hand joined in at his shaft to help. You didn’t start slow whatsoever. You were set on making him cum faster and harder than he ever had before, throwing out the idea of time altogether. 
He sat back on his hands to hold himself up but those began to shake too the faster you went. Spit ran down onto his balls and you thought about playing with them but you felt like that might tip him over the edge. 
He was full of open-mouth moans, ones you wouldn’t mind hearing the rest of your life to the body and cock and personality of a man you wouldn’t mind having the rest of your life.
Just as you thought about it you shut the thought down and concentrated on making him feel better.
“God, you’re so beautiful.” You made out from his moans.
You kept going and felt his hips thrust up into your face in tandem with your movements. He was close, unbelievably, but for some reason, he was hanging on. Only a moment later you found out why.
“Fuck me. I bought condoms this morning, fuck me. Please I’m begging you.”
You pulled your mouth off of his cock with a lewd noise and looked at him but he was already standing up, dick as hard as a statue to crinkle a plastic bag on the island beside you both. 
“I’m deathly scared of having children when living in a place so small and with no job…”
“Thank you.” You didn't know what else to say as you watched him rip off a packet, come back to his knees, and roll the condom onto himself. 
“But then again if I did… wouldn’t that just fuck with Jin knowing I got you pregnant?” He lifted a brow.
Something about that turned you into a complete animal. You kept onto his lap and clung to him. Your lips smashed into his as you reached between the both of you and guided his dick into your hole. 
He felt just as good and filling inside of your pussy as he did your mouth. No one has ever filled you up this well, no one had ever wanted you so much.
He thrust upwards with you on his lap. You were practically a rag doll under the grip he had on your hips.
You began to rock your hips to the steady and slow way his hands commanded them.
“Ahh god.” He moaned as he let his head fall onto your shoulder and you wrapped your arms wrap around his shoulders so that your bodies pressed together.
“I love you.” He placed a kiss on your shoulder blade and whispered into your sweat sticky skin.
Your heart stopped but your hips didn’t.
He said it. It had taken him only three days. You recalled it had taken Seokjin six months and fifteen days exactly to say what Jungkook had in only three. The both of you had figured it out in only three days.
“I love you too.” You raced to say. 
His lips caught yours as he pressed you down onto his cock hard and rolled his hips under you with a grunt.
“These have been the best days of my life with you and I want to keep it that way. I want them all to be the best.” He was out of breath, his eyes were closed and his forehead rested against yours.
“Please.” You begged for the same. “Let’s move away and just be together.”
He let out a small laugh before he smiled.
“Is this gross? This is so weird, it’s only been three days.”
“I’ve never been happier.” You stated a fact. You had thought about it and thought about it non-stop. It wasn’t just attraction, lust, or infatuation you felt for him, this ran deep, deep into his personality, deep into the way he thought and did things. Far deeper than his cock that was buried inside of you right now.
“I bet I could make you happier.” He tried to hide a prideful smile.
“Oh yeah? How so?” You couldn’t help but smile back.
“I could make you cum again.”
Before you could answer he was giving you a quick kiss before practically tossing you off of him with a grin.
He grabbed your hips and flipped you over so that you were on all fours. The tingle that you got down your spine from this gesture was unbelievable.
“Hurry up and fuck me.” You demanded but he shushed you as you felt him press into your cunt.
He had only been not inside of you for a moment but your body had missed the feeling.
You gasped as you felt his grips tighten on your hips and pull your body backward onto him. He went full speed, full force slamming into you. His balls slapped against you. You were already so sensitive, so sore and tired, but you continued to want more.
“Has Jin ever fucked you like this?” 
You had never heard his voice so rough, so teasing, so devilish. You were about to lose it.
“No.” You whined.
“Who does this pussy belong to? Who’s the only person to ever cum inside of you?”
Your arms were shaking, struggling to hold yourself up. Your mouth was slightly open and your brain was so lost that you struggled for even the most simple reply.
“You.” Managed to move from your brain to your lips.
You felt his hand reach around to your clit and begin to rub fast and hard circles. It didn’t take long after that for your brain to shut down, to make way for the orgasm that blew through you like a car explosion. Your arms gave out and your face ended up on the mattress while your ass stayed in the air for him. You felt like you had melted as his dirty talk became mutters and moans. You felt his cock get harder inside of you and spill warm liquid into the condom. 
“I’ve-“ he panted from behind you with his hips now still “I’ve never had sex that good- besides- besides yesterday.”
You’d agree, but you were still a puddle with your cheek pressed into the sheets until you let yourself plop on your side after he pulled out. You felt so high. You laid there for a moment as he took off to the bathroom. He was in there a while, so you decided to get dressed in your clean clothes that he had washed last night that resided in his closet.
You were in disbelief, your hands were shaking as you pulled on the clothes.
Did he mean it?
It had only been three days since he held you in that parking lot as you cried. You remembered the hurt you felt when Jin had seen Jin cheat on you. It was the kind of hurt that left a scar on your soul. You were afraid.
Jungkook was so beautiful and so kind and you had fallen hard, too hard. You didn’t even know anything about his family or where he grew up or if he had ever had any pets or his favorite color.
Your mind was spinning, you were freaking out.
You slipped your shoes by the door on and began unlocking it.
“What are you doing?” 
His voice stopped you for a moment.
You thought about lying. You couldn’t lie, but you sure as hell couldn’t face him.
“I-I think I should go.” You stammered.
“Can we talk? Was it something I said?” 
You could hear his footsteps slowly come closer as if he was trying to approach a scared baby deer to keep it from darting away, and that’s exactly what you felt you were.
“What was it I said? The Jin stuff or the I love you?” 
You could tell his brain was doing whatever it could to piece together why you were leaving.
Just hearing him say the words again shredded you apart.
You felt your eyes welling up.
“Hey, hey look at me, please.” His voice was gentle and now coming from behind you. You couldn’t ignore him, not when he sounded so sweet. You faced him and his eyes scanned over the tears slipping down your cheeks.
“If you didn’t mean it that’s okay, you don’t have to right now. I won’t say it again if-“
“I did mean it.” Your lip quivered “I’m just so scared.”
You watched as his eyebrows furrowed at your words while waiting for you to explain.
“I was just hurt and…”
“If you don’t want to do this-I-I knew going into this that you were hurt, and trying to heal and a relationship might be too much for you while… it was selfish of me to-”
you cut him off by shaking your head.
“no.” you sniffled “I want you, I'm just afraid of being hurt. If I was hurt this badly by Jin, I can't even imagine how badly you could hurt me.” 
His big eyes stared with crinkled brows at you for a moment until he wrapped his arms around you.
“I swear I will never ever hurt you. I will never do what he did to you. Never.” 
Your teary cheek pressed into his neck as you breathed in his calming scent. “I'm so scared of being hurt too, I know how you're feeling. I thought you would end up going back to him and I would lose you. So many things that could make you not want me and so many ways this could go wrong keep running through my head. Please remember what you said, we're here now for each other, it's us against the world. Please please please don't leave me.”
You felt his cheek rest on the top of your head.
“I won't. I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking, I'm so sorry.” you sniffled with guilt and let your arms snake around his torso.
His form was becoming so familiar to you now, his scent already smelled of home, perhaps it did from the moment you had first let him hold you. Perhaps you were all his from that very moment in the parking lot, perhaps you both belonged to each other all along and just didn't know.
“I love you,” you spoke the words first this time, you felt no fear about it.
“I love you too, so much.” his hands slowly rubbed your back as you felt him kiss the top of your head.
You closed your eyes and took it all in, just you and him. You wished at that moment that you could go back and do it over. You would've picked him over anything else, and you knew you'd be so happy if you would've.
“Thank you for not letting me go.” you pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I could've really messed up just now.” 
He gave you a heartfelt smile.
“I hope you would've come back, I’d miss you a lot until you did. We're supposed to be together, you know.” he raised an eyebrow at you.
“Oh yeah?” you couldn't help the smile that spread on your face.
“Mhmm. I have proof.” he lifted a hand and held it up fingers spread. “Give me your hand”
You thread your fingers through his and he let your held hands fall at your sides.
“Now close your eyes.”
You did just as he instructed and felt his forehead rest against his.
You had just had sex but any time you were this close to him made your heart pound so hard. It was as if he had unintentionally trained your body to do this for him.
“Do you feel it?” he whispered “Do you feel that feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you that you'll never love this hard again?”
You had. You had and that's what has scared you so much.
“I do,” you whispered back.
“And can you see it? I can. I can see us moving together to the place you've always dreamed of. You'll get mad at me for being so messy but I’ll just admire you even if you're yelling at me.” 
You felt another small smile on your face as you imagined his words.
“I'll still love you even if I'm upset at you for being messy.” you let out a small breath of laughter.
“I know you will. We'll love each other no matter what because we'll be good to each other, we'll always be there to catch each other. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. Please believe me. I'm yours.”
You felt him kiss your cheek softly and you have him a nod.
Your soul felt so at ease. He had calmed your pain once again.
“If you're losing your mind in here we could just go for a walk you know.” he chuckled.
“Let's do that.” you agreed to it, knowing that he was about to take you out on another adventure.
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You laid in his lap and looked up at his jawline. He was playing a video game, but it was fine with you as long as you got this view. He would occasionally run his fingers through your hair or readjust the flower in it that he had picked and stuck in it during your walk earlier.
Sunset was pouring through the sheer curtains making his skin look so golden. You loved the way he looked at this hour, his appearance matched his heart. You felt so warm and loved even when he wasn’t directly giving you his attention. Jungkook’s cup was always overflowing for you when you were used to only a cup half full. You, yourself, had always offered a full cup, but you never got the love you had given back.
“Do you think we’ve earned each other?” you asked as you looked up feeling the urge to kiss every piece of his jaw.
He paused his game and looked down at you.
“I do. I think we're very deserving of one another… Well, I have thought you were always too good for me, but we're both deserving of the love for each other.”
“You thought I was too good for you?” you broke out into laughter. 
“Don't laugh, I still think that.” he was serious.
“Nooooo no no no.” you shook your head. “Why would you think that?”
He shrugged.
“Well don't think that.” you sat up.
“Sometimes it's hard not to, look at me, I'm jobless right now and you're self-made. I live in a gutter with a mattress on the floor and you-”
You shut him up by pressing your lips to his and bringing your hand up to his cheek.
“I don't care about any of that,” you told him.
“I'm going to make sure we live a good life.” 
“I'm pretty happy with you fucking me on this mattress on the floor and we can live the rest of our lives this way, I don't care.” you had to drive the point home for him. Having a good life for you wasn't about what he had to offer, but the beautiful way he lived it, you didn't want that to change.
He crashed his lips into yours now and sent you backward. Your tongues met and lashed together and suddenly your hands were all over each other.
“I love you,” he mumbled into your lips as you tried to peel his shirt off.
“I love you too,” you replied as his hands pushed up your t-shirt and bra.
His lips went right for your nipples and the feel of his tongue and teeth mixing on the nerves made you arch your back into his mouth. You were once again getting high on him.
“I want you to fuck me and cum inside of me.” your mouth spouted off.
He moaned against your breast and you swear you felt his body shiver.
His mouth popped off of your nipple leaving it cold and wet.
“Fucking marry me,” he demanded before his mouth went to the other one.
At that moment you would. You wanted that, it sounded beautiful to you.
“Please. Let's do it. You want kids?” 
“Mhmm,” he replied as his teeth tugged at your perfect bud. 
“Fuck let's have kids.” 
He sat up between your legs and began undoing his belt.
You knew there was no way right now, you were on birth control but something about saying it all and imagining the perfect life was really doing it for you right now.
He tugged his pants off only leaving him I'm his underwear before undoing yours and pulling everything down just enough to get his hand in.
His fingers ran over your already slick folds.
“I'm going to do this to you every damn day of my life.”
A knocking made you both freeze.
“Don’t answer it,” you whispered, pulling him into you so you can connect lips again. 
For a moment you both did ignore the knocking until it turned to banging.
“Open the fucking door Jungkook!”
It was Jin. You had never heard him so angry.
“Shit fuck no.” you whispered as you both jumped up and pulled at your clothes so they seemed normal “he knows. How does he fucking know?” you whisper yelled in panic.
“He might not. It's okay, it's going to be okay.” 
“Maybe you should call the police.” you tried to get Jungkook to hear you over the pounding at the door.
“I'll step outside and talk to him. It will be okay.” even looking as scared as he did he was still trying to make you feel okay.
You slipped back into the closet but this time you left the door slightly open and peered through the crack.
You watched as Jungkook answered the door, went to step outside but Jin pushed him back.
“Where the fuck is she?” it hadn't taken long for Jin’s eyes to examine the room.
“Who?” Jungkook was once again playing stupid.
“What the fuck is all of this?” Jin nearly yelled, pointing to the condom wrapper still on the floor and the places on Jungkook’s neck. “I know for a fact your girlfriend flew home just last week.” 
“I don't have a girlfriend anymore, Jin.” you could hear the agitation in Jungkook’s words through his clenched jaw.
“Then explain.”
“I don’t have to.” 
“No? Well, I talked to her and she said she hasn’t heard from you in three days, just like the rest of us have both with y/n and you.”
Your heart felt like it had dropped into your stomach as you now stood there frozen.
“I saw you taking photos, you didn't even try to help get the girl off of me, you just took photos. I know you sent them to her. I know what you've been telling all of the others. I know this was a setup. I know you've always been jealous of me.”
“Jin, do you know how insane you sound right now? You need to-”
“YOU KNOW I’D NEVER CHEAT ON HER, I NEVER HAVE!” Jin yelled, “So why were you taking photos?”
“Jin, I saw you kissing the other girl.” Jungkook’s voice stayed calm.
“I didn't want it, she had me pinned, Namjoon had to come to help me. Everyone has told me you've been telling them this isn't the first time I’ve supposedly done this either, explain that!”
“Look Jin, you're the cheater here! Don't come to my house and start accusing me of shit!” Jungkook finally snapped.
“YOU’RE AN INSANE MONSTER, JUNGKOOK! WHERE IS SHE?” Jin screamed as loudly as he could.
You noted how easily lying came to Jungkook.
“You know! You know because you set this up, you're a fucking stalker and I've always done my best to protect her from you. You gonna tell her how I caught you following her to her classes in college when you didn't even go there? Or how Hobi found a picture you somehow had of her in your room at your parent’s house? Where is she so I can tell her, I will tell her everything.” Jin was seething in anger with his fists tightly gripped into fists at his side.
You still didn't step out of the closet.
“Fine! Fucking fine! You want me to tell you that I fucked her? I fucked her multiple times! I came inside of her, she told me she loved me. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 
“You're sick.” Jin growled. 
“At least I'm not a cheater.” Jungkook struck right back with his words.
“You ARE! And you're a fucking obsessed freak. I swear if you ever talk to me or any of our friends again I'll kill you!” tears ran down his cheeks.
“You're the one that's fucking insane, Jin.”
Upon hearing Jungkook’s words, Jin dove at him but only managed to push him back a little.
Seokjin was sobbing, he gave up and took off out the door.
As Jungkook closed and locked the front door things were silent.
You still stood in the closet and now felt warm liquid blurring your vision and spilling from your eyes. Your body was shaking.
He opened the closet, taking you by the arm and gently pulling you out.
You covered your mouth to try to keep the break down in.
“I can explain.” 
He didn't deny it, not any of it.
“What's true? You said you wouldn't hurt me so just tell me.” you forced even your shaking voice out.
“Listen, I've never- I haven't felt the way I feel about you with anyone before, and I…”
“Oh my God.” you said as your knees now shook “It’s all true, isn't it? Oh my fucking God.” 
“I-” he went to speak but your body had gone into fight or flight and you walked past him. Your body was trying to protect you by gathering your things, but it felt too late for it to kick in.
“I love you, I always have. I can text her right now and dump her.” he was following you around.
His voice felt so distorted as you felt so out of your own body.
“You haven't yet?!” you snapped at him. “At the very least you could have already done that. If you actually did love me you wouldn't have done all of this! What the fuck is up with the talking anyway?!”
“Please don't leave me, please, I'm begging you. I meant everything I said.” he began to cry now too.
“I didn't!” you were hurting and you wanted him to hurt worse. “I was only fucking you to make myself feel better about Jin! You set this up! You ruined my relationship and hurt me! You're a fucking freak! I never want to see you again!” 
You marched to the door, very aware he had crumpled onto the floor in hard sobs behind you.
You walked, you simply just walked in the chilly night, still crying, your things under your arm. The worst part is that you did love him, you had meant everything you said to him too, but he had planned all of this. You no longer thought of him as golden, but fools gold.
You had no idea how long you had been walking, but you decided to sit down on the side of a curb.
Your hands shakily turned on your phone and texts and missed calls flooded through but you ignored them.
The first thing you did was block everyone's number. You were done, it was over, you never wanted to do any of this ever again.
The next thing you did was book a one-way plane ticket to Hawaii. 
You deserved to be happy, even if, for the first time, it was only you. Your cup had always been full of loving others, but never did you think until now that that cup could be full for only you. You wouldn't ever let anyone take from your cup ever again. What filled your cup was genuine, it was gold while all the rest held only water. 
“Tomorrow is going to be better.” you told yourself.
You weren't happy now, but you knew you would be. You could take yourself on adventures every day, you could put flowers in your own hair, and if you fell down a hill at full speed, you could catch yourself. You promised that you'd never let yourself fall ever again.
822 notes · View notes
wondernimbus · a year ago
meet the weasleys — george weasley
pairing: george weasley x female!reader
summary: george takes reader to meet his family.
requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!
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"I’m nervous."
"Well, don't be."
"Thank you, George. That somehow just alleviated all of my worries."
George snickers and squeezes her hand in reassurance. “Just relax. My family doesn't bite—or, well, Ron used to, but that was back when he was, what, five? And besides, you already know him, and he's never bit you before, has he?"
"Not helping."
"And you've met most of my family already."
“I haven't met your mum. Or your dad. Or Bill and Charlie,” she argues, eyes worriedly darting from George’s own to the wooden door in front of them.
George laughs again. His eyes don’t fail to catch onto the way she’s frantically tapping her foot against the ground, how she keeps worrying at her bottom lip. The sight has him grinning widely; he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t horribly endeared.
“Listen,” he says, removing his fingers from her own in favor of turning her around to face him. George’s hands go to her neck, cradling the sides of her cheeks. “They’re going to love you. And if they don’t—well, I can always find a different family.”
”George,” she sighs.
”Only joking,” he grins, and leans in to press a very brief kiss to the tip of her nose. “But I mean it. They’ll adore you. Possibly even more than I do, although that’s up for debate.”
She lets out a long breath, pursing her lips together in a feeble attempt at a smile, but George commends her for trying. He drops his hands back to his sides and laces his fingers through her own again, turning to face the door like they’re about to venture into some sort of grand adventure and not into his family’s living room—and George is about to twist open the knob, until [Y/N] goes, “Wait.”
He glances at her. Her eyes are wide and the look on her face still so uncertain. Sucking in a breath through her teeth, she asks him, “How do I look?”
The grin on George’s face is so impossibly wide. “Like a billion galleons,” he tells her. Just because he can’t resist the urge, he swoops down to press one more chaste kiss to her lips. And then finally, he twists the knob.
The moment George steps foot through the door, he’s immediately enveloped by the wafting scent of something being cooked on the stove. It smells familiar, like he should know what it is, but George has never been much of a chef. But he recognizes the sounds—the voices—coming from the kitchen despite all of them mingling together to form one raucous chorus of chatter. He knows exactly which voice belongs to who—knows that the loud shriek is his mum reprimanding one of them, knows that the sound of someone whining is very likely Ron. That laugh is Bill’s, too, mingled with Fred’s voice. George just knows, automatically, without even having to think about it. George knows, too, without looking down on the “welcome” mat in front of the door, that there are going to be muddy boots on top it—and there they are. He steps around them. George knows that there is going to be a quilt magically knitting itself together on the couch without even having to look at it—and there it is.
And just like that, he knows he’s home.
Something about having [Y/N] in the vicinity of a place so important to him—a place that’s part of him—has his heart feeling full. He pauses for a moment in the doorway, taking it all in, but he’s snapped out of his brief spell of inexplicable happiness when his father comes lumbering out of the door leading to the kitchen.
“George!” his dad exclaims loudly, and just like that all chatter from the room behind him ceases (“They’re here?!” he hears his mother panic). “We didn’t hear you come in!”
”Likely because mum was too busy screaming,” George grins, and walks forward to envelop his father in a hug.
”Ah, yes—Fred arrived half an hour ago and terrified Ron out of his wits with some sort of fake—no, actually, nevermind that! This must be [Y/N].”
Arthur’s eyes have landed on her, and George actually has to give her a little nudge for her to say something. Her eyes widen like she’s surprised at being addressed (as though the entire point of this gathering hadn’t been to get to introduce her), but then her lips break out into a smile and she steps forward to shake his father’s outstretched hand.
”It’s really nice to meet you,” she says, eyes crinkling at the edges. George stands to the side watching the scene unfold, feeling oddly proud.
”Yes, of course!” Arthur nods with remarkable enthusiasm, smiling just as wide. “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you! You’re Muggle-born, correct?”
She lets out a tinkling laugh. “Yes, that’s right.”
”Brilliant!” he claps his hands together—but George knows exactly where this is going, so he cuts his father off and says, “I think we can address the function of a rubber duck later over dinner, dad.”
Arthur pauses, seemingly dejected, but then gathers himself and nods. “Oh, right, well, I suppose—“
And there’s George’s mum, Molly, coming from the kitchen, hurriedly pulling off her oven mitts to rush straight towards [Y/N] and envelop her in a big, warm hug. “Oh!” [Y/N] exclaims, obviously taken a bit by surprise given that the two of them have never met before, but eventually she breaks out into light laughs and hugs her back. [Y/N] meets George’s gaze over Molly’s shoulder; he gives her this encouraging sort of smile, and then jokingly complains, ”Blimey. S’pose I’m not missed here anymore.”
”Oh, quiet, you!” Molly frets, waving a dismissive hand in the air (George laughs) and then pulling away from [Y/N] to grip her by the arms and gush, “You’re far prettier than I could have ever imagined!”
[Y/N] flushes a shade of vibrant pink. “Oh, no—but thank you—“
”Have you gotten your vision checked lately, [Y/N]?” It’s Fred, leaning on the kitchen doorframe with a toy snake dangling from his hand. “Or do you really want to be with Georgey despite his baffling similarities to a mountain troll?"
”We’re twins, you prat.” George smacks the back of Fred’s head.
“Ah, right.” Fred is grinning despite having received a blow to the head. “It’s lovely seeing you, future-sister-in-law.”
Fred and [Y/N] have known each other just as long as she and George have, having gone to Hogwarts at the same time all those years ago. All three of them had bonded over their mutual love for pranks, although [Y/N] had always been their babysitter of sorts—the one who made sure none of their jokes went too far out of line. George loved her for it; loved how considerate and gentle she was despite her undeniable mischief. But he’d only really gotten himself to tell her after the war; one brief visit of hers to the joke shop turned into two, and then three, and then suddenly [Y/N] was always hanging around somewhere in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, helping the business run along. It was Fred who convinced George, only six months ago, to confess his admiration for her after five years of holding himself back.
After the war, George had all the time in the world to take as many risks as he could. So he told her—and now here they are: [Y/N] ruffling Fred’s hair fondly, George trying to fend off his mother’s hands trying to fix his hair (“don’t you think you need a haircut, sweetie?”), and Ron making his grand entrance from behind Fred.
”Ron!” [Y/N] exclaims, catching sight of him, and then jokingly she adds, “I haven’t seen you in ages—last time I saw you you were the size of a Pygmy Puff.”
Ron scoffs out a laugh. “You’re only two years older than me, you know,” he huffs, but lets her hug him, anyway.
Brief introductions are made as Bill and Charlie enter the room. George watches as [Y/N] shakes their hands—Charlie hugs her, as he’s always been big on affection—and just like that George knows that she’s won all of them over, the way she’d done to him. The way she still does to him, after all this time.
Five minutes later they're being ushered into the garden behind the Burrow, where a long wooden table has been set up. There are golden streamers draped all around the bushes and hanging from the branches of trees, but that's hardly what captures George and [Y/N]'s attention first because at the very end of the long table, a large banner is floating in mid-air: one that says "WELCOME TO THE FAMILY!" in glittering silver letters.
George doesn't miss the look on [Y/N]'s face when she sees this; her eyes almost seem to well up with tears, and despite the picture-perfect setting in front of him—despite the golden streamers and the balloons and the faerie lights hanging in mid-air—it's that look on [Y/N]'s face that has his breath catching in his throat and his heart doing odd little double-takes inside his chest.
He loves her, he realizes. It’s nothing new—shouldn't be anything new to him, as he's known it for quite a while now—but still there are moments like this one where he pauses and has to take a while to let it sink in; the fact that the woman next to him, whose smile reminds him of every single happy moment he has ever lived through, loves him just as much as he loves her.
Knowing that is absolutely surreal.
"We didn't expect you to arrive so early!" Molly says, obviously harried as she passes by them bearing a cauldron of steaming soup. “The cookies are still baking—and [Y/N], honey, I sent Ginny upstairs to go fetch your sweater, she should be down any time soon—Ron, Fred, will you stop that!”
The two, who had been wrestling with the toy snake Fred held in his hands earlier, immediately drop their hands to their sides. “T’was Fred who started it,” grumbles Ron.
”And I plan on ending it!” Fred emits some sort of war-cry, but stops when he spots the look on his mother’s face. “Kidding, mum.”
It takes a good half-hour or so before the last of the dishes are finally set on the table and everyone is seated. There’s food of all sorts in front of them—treacle tarts, cakes, pudding, pie—and [Y/N], who initially thought she’d feel too nervous to eat anything, eats with ease. Like everyone else around the table, she’s wearing a fuzzy red sweater with her initial sewn in front; a gift to her from Molly. The moment she’d laid eyes on it she knew it was her favorite thing in the entire world.
She tells this to George, who raises his eyebrows and replies snarkily, “I’m gonna have to ask for you to return the necklace I gave you, then.”
”Oh, sod off,” she laughs, rolling her eyes, but she lets him spoon pie into her mouth.
“Gah, get a room!” complains Fred.
”It’s not like they’re snogging,” says Charlie.
”Would you like us to?” grins George, earning him a slap to the shoulder from [Y/N].
”There are children here, George,” she scolds.
”You’re only two years older!” protests Ron.
No one really notices, but the sun has long since sunken below the horizon. Everyone around the table is immersed in chatter; Ron, for example, has been roped into a passionate debate with Fred and George about the true purpose of Pygmy Puffs. (“They only exist to ask for food and jump around and make annoying little noises!” says Ron, to which George responds with, “That sounds like you, Ron.”) [Y/N], meanwhile, is offering an explanation to Arthur about the rubber duck.
“They don’t do much of anything, really. They float and squirt and sometimes they make noises.”
But Arthur looks disappointed, as though he’d been expecting something much more grand. So [Y/N], not wanting to bring down his mood, decides to add, ”I believe they’re also used to keep—um—Grindylows away from your bathwater.”
Mr. Weasley positively beams with joy. “Is that right? I told you, Molly, rubber ducks are magnificent little things!”
Molly gives her husband an exasperated look, but it disappears the moment she turns to [Y/N]. “We’re so glad to have you here, sweetie,” she tells her, reaching over the table to grasp her hand and offering her the most motherly smile [Y/N] has ever seen. “We’ve heard so many good things about you. George speaks so very highly of you—and he was right, you really are perfect for him!"
[Y/N] flushes, smiling. “Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.”
”Oh, no, no, call me Molly,” she laughs, waving a hand in the air. “You’re part of the family now, dear. No need for formalities.”
And [Y/N] does feel like it—like she’s part of this table. This family. Not just the girlfriend of one of their sons but someone who actually belongs.
It’s odd, in a magical sort of way, how all of their random conversations blend together to form one harmonious burst of chatter, how everything and everyone in that table just works. Like puzzle pieces from different sets, she thinks to herself. And they shouldn't fit, but they do.
So this is home for George. This is the place he grew up in. This is where his heart lives.
She can't help the way her eyes stray to him every now and then, noting the sheer joy reflected in his eyes, the way the smile on his lips never really goes away. How, even when Ron flicks a strawberry at his face—even when George threatens to send a whole army of pygmy puffs after him—there's still that joyful glint in his eyes.
With the end of winter right around the corner, surrounded by the family that has welcomed her with open arms, holding the hand of her very favorite person underneath table, fireflies flitting around above them as laughter echoes around the table: [Y/N] feels safe. Happy.
So this is home.
The next morning, [Y/N] and George find themselves walking along the edge of the woods where meadow rues grow, a little ways away from the Burrow. They walk unhurried, the soles of their feet swishing against the blades of grass with each step, hands hanging loosely intertwined between them.
They’d woken up before anyone else, when the sun had just barely begun to rise. George had told her to "Get up, I want to take you somewhere" and admittedly she'd whined a little, claiming to need five more minutes of sleep, but George, laughing, threw her over his shoulder and threatened to carry her all the way there if she didn't oblige.
But now, she's glad she came with.
At one point she stops walking, lifts her face to the sky and closes her eyes against the warmth of the sun, taking a deep breath and soaking in everything that the morning wants to bring her. George watches her without question, a fond little smile already tugging on the edges of his lips without him even realizing. [Y/N] is beautiful in the sunlight—or any light at all, actually. George isn't entirely convinced someone like her—someone so breathtakingly beautiful and gentle and patient—would want someone like him. But when he tugs on her hand, turning her around to face him, and when he cups her jaw and guides her closer to press their mouths together, she lets him. She doesn't even think about it. Just melts into him like it's the only thing she knows how to do.
And then she pulls back slightly but stays close, runs a palm down the length of George’s arm and links their fingers together.
"It’s not much," he tells her, voice uncharacteristically quiet. A little unsure. "But it's home." Because, now that the excitement from yesterday has faded, George knows what his house could look like to someone who hasn't lived there all their life—knows that it looks messy, like pieces of it were thrown together haphazardly. It’s not a manor. Nothing like the kind of houses you see featured on Witch Weekly. He knows that [Y/N] isn't the type to care, but still—
"I love it," she pulls away, throwing her head back in an actual laugh—the kind that reminds George of everything good in the world. "I love this place, George. And your brothers and Ginny and your parents. Yesterday was.." she pauses, calming down a little, taking in a deep breath as she squeezes his hand in her own. "It was magical."
Quietly, with her eyes skittering away to look back at the Burrow behind them, she tells him, "I'm really happy, George."
George knows he'll remember this moment forever. The day is just beginning, and he is standing on the edge of a forest-line with a girl who looks at him like in spite of however many weird things he does, whatever dumb things he says, however embarrassing and difficult and painful some days might be, George is still worthy of being hers.
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notanotherreidgirl · 2 months ago
Serial Knitters
Summary: Spencer goes out of his way to buy a gift for a special someone
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Warnings: None
Word Count: 845
A/N: Ugh, this is so self-indulgent. I don't know if anyone will be able to relate but I just love knitting and crocheting and if someone went out of their way to buy me yarn I would just melt and make them a million things. Also, I am quite pleased with this title :)
Derek grumbled as he fiddled with the radio. It was bad enough that the witness they drove out 45 minutes to interview was a combative dead-end but now he had to listen to off-brand country music because there wasn’t a single good radio station in this middle of nowhere Wyoming town. Finally, he shut it off, resigned to riding in silence until Reid found something to ramble about. What he didn't expect was for Spencer to practically jump out of his seat without warning, demanding that they turn around and stop. “Wait, wait, wait! Derek, stop the car. Stop it right now!”
Derek slammed on the brakes so fast he almost got whiplash. He shot into reverse without question only to pull up to a craft store at the side of the road. Knit N’ Needle
“What the hell, Reid! Are you kidding me right now?” He wasn’t done but Spencer was already out the door before he had even put the SUV in park. Derek slammed the door behind him, prepared to yell at Spencer in front of everyone in the store. Luckily, the place was deserted except for an older woman snoozing behind the counter with a half-finished sock suspended between two needles. He found Reid in the back surveying a wall of multicolored yarn and he grabbed his arm. “Are you serious, man? We could’ve gotten killed! What were you thinking? We have a highly organized unsub on the loose and you’re buying yarn?”
“I’m allowed to have interests outside of serial killers.” Spencer narrowed his eyes defensively as he swiped two skeins of yarn off the shelf, one a light lavender and the other a deep violet. Derek let out a huff and pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath. Was he overreacting? Maybe.
“Ok, fine. I’m sorry, just don’t do that again.” He picked up a ball of yarn, tossing it up in the air and spinning it like a football. “So what? Is this a new hobby?”
“Something like that.” Spencer gave the little bell on the counter a tap and checked out quickly, cheeks tinged pink as he climbed back into the SUV.
On the jet ride home, Derek told everyone about the impromptu yarn store stop and over the next week he asked a million and one questions about Spencer’s new hobby. It’s getting chilly, Reid. When can I expect a pair of gloves?
But it was mostly forgotten after a few weeks and Derek would have certainly let it go if not for a certain exchange he witnessed during the office Christmas party Penelope insisted on throwing. He was sitting back on his desk, sipping on eggnog when he noticed Spencer talking to someone new. For a moment Derek debated eavesdropping, knowing that it was wrong, but the two of you were so close and all he had to do was scoot a little to the left and he could hear your conversation perfectly.
“Hey, you’re here! I-um-I wasn’t sure if you’d come.” Spencer’s nervousness was apparent but it was overshadowed by the genuine happiness in his voice. He was overjoyed that you were here.
“Of course! I wanted to see you.” Derek recognized your voice. You were Penelope’s friend, a technical analyst working in white-collar crimes. The only person Penelope preferred speaking to on the phone over Derek. He had never seen you, never seen how pretty you were. Derek started to get up, prepared to slip into the role of wingman. But it didn’t seem like Spencer needed help. You held up a gift bag, decorated with little snowmen. “I actually have something for you”
“For me?” Spencer’s face lit up as he took the bag and reached inside. It was a scarf, warm and thick with cables of familiar lavender yarn intertwining with violet strands. He held it for a moment, running his hands along the intricate patternwork, the soft tassels. “You made this?”
You nodded somewhat sheepishly, suddenly feeling quite shy. He put it on without a second thought despite the fact that they were inside and the heat was on. “It’s perfect! I love it.” I love you.
Derek wasn’t normally one for meddling, leaving that to Penelope, but he was barely resisting the urge to dangle some mistletoe between the two of you. Instead, he settled for sauntering over with a smirk plastered on his face. “New hobby, huh Reid?”
Spencer flushed but he didn’t take his eyes off you. Derek only laughed, leaving behind a smitten Spencer and bringing out a very confused look on your face as he made his way to Penelope, excited to be the one with gossip for a change.
After that, the knitted creations were even more frequent. Derek finally got that pair of gloves, and there was a proper blanket for the jet, crocheted animals for Penelope, even a winter hat for Hotch. And Spencer had the most of anyone - sweater vests, cozy cardigans, personalized mismatched socks - the evidence of your love always proudly displayed on his person.
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sugako · 5 months ago
after dinner special
bokuto x f!reader x hinata sum: after seeing the way his teammate looks at you, bokuto comes up with a plan to help all parties cw: 18+ only minors dni i am begging you, established relationship (bokuto x reader), slight manipulation (?? reader/bo make a secret plan to seduce hinata and he wants to so not really but idk what else to tag it as), oral (f!receiving), double pussyjob, nipple play, orgasm denial, D/s, spit roast, unprotected, hinabo if you squint extra hard wc: 4.2k a/n: finally back from the dead with this wayyy overdue fic ive been thinking about/writing for months, no edits or beta bc i'm too impatient and haven't posted in so long
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Above all else, Bokuto was incredibly perceptive to other’s emotions. Among other aspects, that quality had really drawn you to him even if it wasn’t as extraordinarily overt as his confidence and enthusiasm. His perceptiveness didn’t end with you, of course, he was well-connected with his teammates, which meant when he saw the way Hinata’s eyes just barely glazed over when he met you he knew there was something more happening in his head. He watched the burning grow in Hinata after he had witnessed the two of you had, quite obviously, snuck off to another room during a get-together at Meian’s, spit still drying at the corner of your dry, puffy lips a week prior.
Even he wasn’t sure what exactly his plan was as he started up in the locker room a couple weeks later, oversharing every little detail he could recall about your body, namely when it was under him. Ignoring Atsumu and Kiyoomi’s groans for him to stop while Shugo and Oliver snickered to themselves reminiscing about their own escapades from a handful of years ago, he focused on Hinata’s reaction.
Shōyō remained uncharacteristically quiet as he rambled on about how cute your soft tits were, only speaking to quietly excuse himself to the bathroom. He was careful, but not careful enough to hide the tent in his shorts.
Not one to keep a secret, the words came tumbling from his mouth when he burst into your shared apartment.
“I think Hinata likes you!” He managed, tearing off his shoes to stumble into the hallway to wrap you in a tight hug like he did nearly every day.
“I-...what?” You choke, wrapping a tentative arm back around him and peeling away to look at him in the eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Not like… I don’t know, I think he wants to fuck you.” The smile on his face doesn’t waver, only confusing you.
“I’m not sure how to take this.” You deadpan, brows just short of knitting together. “Why…?”
“Well if you would like that I certainly wouldn’t mind.” His teeth graze over your skin as he pecks messy kisses all over your cheeks and neck.
“You wouldn’t mind?” You blankly repeat back, holding his back by his muscled shoulders to make him look you in the eyes. “Because not minding something and wanting something are very different and I just want to make sure whatever we’re about to talk about we’re just being really clear.”
Bokuto inhaled a massive breath, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he collected exactly what he wanted to say to you. Before he could, the smell coming from the kitchen distracted his senses, leaving him to weakly exhale and blink his eyes open. “Talk over dinner?”
The long talk over the dinner table was eventually fruitful. After he collected himself and stuffed his rumbling stomach, Bokuto was better able to explain what he had seen in Hinata. It made you recall every time you had seen him and you would be lying if you said you didn’t see it too. He wasn’t exactly a subtle person.
When it came down to it, you certainly weren’t opposed. Bokuto certainly seemed interested in the prospect of sharing you, especially with his favorite prodigy as he liked to class him. You recognized that Hinata was attractive and you had to admit that the concept of being squished between the two thick, bubbly men was alluring as long as he was truly interested.
Before the full invitation to come over for dinner - specially prepared by you - had even slipped from Bokuto’s mouth, Hinata was eagerly accepting. Part of you dreaded the entire ordeal, anxieties bubbling up about the lead up and the talking beforehand that you had foolishly agreed to do most of. Over dinner you stayed a little quieter than usual, trying to gauge Hinata’s expression and body language.
When he politely excuses himself to use the restroom after finishing, Bokuto grabs your hand across the table, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles.
“If you’re nervous we can stop right here.” He whispers, grinning softly.
You can’t help but smile back, shaking your head. “No, I’m okay,” you assure him, “I am a little nervous, but I really want to.”
He opens his mouth to say something else, but is cut off by the sound of the bathroom door closing and the soft pad of Hinata’s feet down the hallway. Clearing your throat, you give a reassuring smile to Bokuto, and stand to face where Hinata soon pops out of.
“Hinata, would you-”
“Shōyō is fine!” He interjects. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“That’s fine,” you smile, ghosting your hand down his arm and resting your palm against his elbow. “Shōyō, would you mind helping me wash up in the kitchen. I feel bad asking the guest, but Kōtarō has something for you and you’ll get to it faster if I finish this.”
Hinata can feel his heart pounding behind his rib cage so hard he worries you can hear his pulse reverberating. You look so sweet with those pleading eyes staring at him, the warm touch of your fingertips sending heat to his chest.
“Of course, I don’t mind.” He nods, letting you lead him a room away to the kitchen.
“Great, thank you, this is such a big help.” You grin while placing the dirty dishes in the sink before you and handing him a dry towel. “You can just dry and put them in the cabinet in front of you.”
“Okay,” he says quietly, eyeing down your low-cut shirt as you squeeze your arms together and lean down to grab the first bowl. His eyes roll to the back of his head when you turn the tap on a little too fast and water splashes all over the front of your thin, pale dress, making the black lacy bra underneath pop.
“Whoops!” You exclaim, smiling a little too happily, feeling how his feet shift beside you. “This tap is a little loose, I always get messy and wet trying to do anything.”
He has to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning, glad that your gaze is in the sink and not on his flushed face. He doesn’t want to feel this way about his friend’s girlfriend, but it’s so hard when you’re standing so close - did you take a step toward him? when did your hip start brushing against his? - and you look so pretty.
“So, Shōyō…” you start, handing him another dish, “Kōtarō talks about you a lot, you know.”
“Really?” His voice is pitched and strained, stopping short of choking on his own words.
“Yeah, he thinks you’re great. He was so excited when you joined the team. He, uh, he pays attention, a lot more than some people give him credit for.”
Hinata nods, carefully placing the bowl in the cupboard. “He’s great, I’ve always loved watching him play.”
“He’s fun to watch,” you agree, “You know he thinks….actually, can I just ask what your type is?” The words tumble out quickly as you try to gain confidence, a small bit of worry creeping into the back of your head.
“My type?” He repeats back, pausing in his drying motions. “I don’t know if I really have one. Just anyone I feel good with. Why?” When he turns to look at you again you’re turned to face him, a small smile lighting up your features.
“That’s a good way to look at things. I only ask because, well Kōtarō seems to think you have some kind of interest in me.” You force the words to come out casually, keeping your eyes on him. Hinata sputters and chokes on his own words, the way your hand comes down over his doing absolutely nothing to help him compose himself. “There’s no good way to say this, but he was thinking you could, uh well take what you’ve been thinking about, if you want to.”
Taking a deep swallow, he took a short deep breath to clear his mind. “And what do you think?”
Tension dissipates from your body at his question. “I think I would like you to do whatever you want. Touch me, kiss me, anything. Only if you want to.”
His fists clench and unclench again, gears turning in his head as he realizes this was planned. All those stories Bokuto told, the glint in his eyes for the past few weeks, the way you put yourself on display for him all night with that sly little smirk - it was all part of some plan. A little worried voice in the back of his head told him this was too good to be true. But you were offering yourself up to him, angled forward so your tits would pop and watching him so carefully as though he were a scared animal ready to run, and he knew it had to be true.
The timid, apprehensive look he had been sporting slowly drained from his face, replaced with a much more confident and delighted one. His hands moved from his sides to dig into your waist, lifting you up onto the counter behind you.
“Don’t tease me.” He whispers hoarsely, lips ghosting over the pulse of your throat. The loose dress Bokuto had purposefully picked out for you to wear for the evening rode up as Hinata settled his thick body between your welcoming knees.
“I’m not,” you pant, “Kōtarō really wanted this.”
A shuddered sigh comes from his chest as he rests his head against your shoulder, just barely kissing the soft spot between your neck and shoulder. You fidget restlessly, trying to pull his still body closer to no avail.
“Wanna know he wants this.” He says eventually. “I trust you, I just…”
“No, no, I get it.” You say a little too abruptly, fishing around for where your phone was tossed onto the counter. With shaky hands you hurried to click it open, immediately going to your messages, scrolling to the most recent chat with Bokuto where he depicted how much he wanted to see you fucked out on his and Hinata’s cocks in vivid detail. You push the phone into his hand. “You can scroll wherever, he mentioned it before that one’s just… yeah.”
“Oh, wow.” He breathes, glancing through a few other messages from earlier in the week. Gently, he sets the phone down beside you before pulling your hips to the edge of the counter. His lips collide with the base of your throat knocking the air right from you.
You wind your fingers up in his hair as he pressed harsh kisses straight down your front, his rough hands pushing the skirt of your dress up even higher, leaving the tops of your thighs completely exposed. He keeps journeying lower until his cheek is flush to the hem of your panties. When his nose presses up against the slowly growing damp patch leaking his shoulders heave as though to hold himself back.
“And he doesn’t want us to wait up…?”
Truthfully, you didn’t know completely. Bokuto had asked to make some kind of subtle move on Hinata in private, he figured it would be less stressful for the both of you, but he hadn’t said how far to go with him, and you weren’t really sure what he was doing in some other part of the house, and Hinata’s fingers were so hot against your skin…
“No, it’s fine.” You pant, desperation evident in your voice. He doesn’t need much more, hand moving to pull the stretchy fabric you had purposefully worn to the side, his wide tongue darting out to lap up the wetness seeping from you.
With an aching whine, you lean into his touch, massaging his head and bringing him closer to you with every burning second that passes. Not that you had expected him to be inexperienced by any means, but you hadn’t expected him to be so good. He was loud, moaning against your cunt as he buried his tongue inside of you, nose tapping against your pleading clit.
The sound of your breathy whimpers and the loud slurping squelches drowned out the steps coming down the hall or the kitchen door swinging open. Bokuto stood there for a moment with a small smile, admiring how pretty you looked like this, even if he wished it were him, but he couldn’t let the moment pass him by.
“Puppy,” he sighed. The first syllable was enough to make Hinata pop off of you and stumble back to turn around, eyes hazy and drunken of the taste of you. Ignoring the hardened look in Bokuto’s eyes, you pouted sweetly, spreading your legs a little more to let him see your soiled panties.
“You’re being greedy, don’t you think, puppy? Going ahead without me like that.” He imitates you with a fake pout, the look never quite meeting his blazing eyes. You can feel what’s coming and make no more attempt to argue. Hinata is taking in the interaction, still halfway in his own daze. “She’s great, huh, Shōyō? Pretty little pussy and she makes the best noises, especially when she’s crying for your cock.”
Hinata swallows hard, absentmindedly palming over his pants where he’s quickly grown half-hard. “Yeah, she’s, yeah no, uh she’s really great. This is still okay?”
Both of you nod quickly, reassuring him, but you remain silent for now, trying to settle before you know what’s to come.
“Totally okay as long as you’re okay.” Bokuto drops the edge in his tone to carefully watch him for a moment, assessing.
“Completely.” He agrees with a dreamy sigh.
Nodding again, Bokuto approaches the two of you. Refusing to meet his eyes you stare just ahead at the door.
“Oh, don’t look so sad, puppy, you know you’ll get what you want in the end anyway.” He jabs as he scoops you over his shoulder and gives you a gentle pat on the back of your thighs. “Let’s at least go to the living room.”
You glance back at Hinata, mouthing a silent whoops, while Bokuto leads him around the corner. Bokuto plops into the corner of the couch, back propped up by the plush arm, and maneuvering your pliable body to sit comfortably in his lap with your back pulled up flush to his chest. You’re gently pushed forward so he can peel the dress off and unclasp your bra. He’s calm for now, at least on the outside, but you can feel his heart pounding through the thin fabric of his shirt.
“Don’t need these anymore,” he hums, latching his fingers in the sides of your underwear and motioning for you to lift your hips to let him slide them off. Hooking his elbows under your knees, he pulls your thighs to your chest, high enough so that he can palm your breasts. Quietly whining, you turn your head away so you don’t have to look directly up at Hinata - not that he’d notice your face with the way your cunt was glistening under the low, soft lights of the room. “Shh,” he directs at you before glancing back up at Hinata, “go ahead, but don’t let her cum.”
With a warm grin he gets on his knees between Bokuto’s spread legs. You almost felt too exposed, all power taken from your hands, splayed open like this. Bokuto slots his chin against your shoulder and presses the softest kiss to your cheek in stark contrast to the way his rough hands are kneading and pinching your sensitive breasts.
Hinata eagerly gets back to it, lavishing your cunt with softer licks than before, making your hips shake as they seek out more friction. While your neediness grows so too does Bokuto’s grip on you.
“So pretty,” he coos, eyes glued to where Hinata was firmly pressed against you. Pride bloomed in his chest at the sight of his teammate sloppily eating out his favorite girl so enthusiastically, appreciating you so much as he should.
It’s impossible for him to not get rock hard with the way you’re grinding down into his lap and the crude, wet sounds and groans vibrating from the back of Hinata’s throat.
“Taste so good.” Hinata grumbles, pulling back and forcing his tense hips to stop rutting into the couch cushion. He feels himself making a mess in his pants, hoping that he isn’t leaking through to your nice furniture, but he can’t quite bring himself to stop either. Both Bokuto and you watch the string - you’re not sure whether it’s his spit or your own wetness - that stays connected between your slit and his puffy, glossy lips.
“Good...good job.” Bokuto sighs. You’re not sure if he’s praising you or Hinata, but you don’t have much time to think too hard about it before he releases your legs and wedges his hands under between himself and you to pull his straining cock from his pants. Mind buzzing, still a little hazy from the feeling of Hinata’s tongue, you grab out from him, pulling on the band of his pants. Truthfully, he’s not quite sure what you’re asking for but he does know how tight his balls are and how inviting your cunt looks.
Just as Bokuto is settling his cock between your ass, Hinata’s pants are slipped off, thrown to the ground. He dips his head down to take one of your breasts into his mouth, moaning around you and pressing in close so his tip catches against your clit. At your whiny cry and keening, Bokuto lets out a low, single chuckle. “Don’t let her have your cock, not all the way. You were being so greedy earlier puppy, I don’t think you deserve it yet.”
Hinata keeps his mouth firmly planted on your chest and reaches down to perfectly slip himself between the top of your folds, acutely aware of Bokuto’s heavy head just barely bumping against the base of his own cock. They’re both so thick and heavy as they rabidly hump against you, Bokuto maneuvering your body for you back and forth across both of them. Everything is warm and wet between Hinata’s mouth on your chest and Bokuto’s lips kissing down the side of your neck.
The tease of release that’s been creeping up on you for so long draws closer and closer. Hinata’s cock is catching so exactly on your swollen clit and Bokuto’s tip keeps threatening to slip past your entrance, slick dripping past your thighs.
“Gonna, ahg, cu-cum!” You manage out, hips already bouncing on their own accord against them.
“Go ahead.” Bokuto says with a shaky breath, squeezing you as tight as he could between his body and Hinata’s. One more roll of their hips has you crashing down, pleasure rolling through your body. All you can feel is warmth and overwhelming satisfaction as you twitch between their arms, creaming across their cocks. “Good girl, good girl…” you faintly hear Bokuto coo into your ear as you slump back against him.
The buzzing, quiet moment is quickly squashed as he hoists you out of his lap and onto all fours. He’s talking to Hinata and you know you should be listening, but your pussy is still throbbing and you’re trying to catch your breath.
“...okay, baby?” You catch the very end of his sentence and blink hard, desperate to refocus.
“W-wait, what? Sorry, I just-”
“It’s okay, puppy,” he rubs a soothing hand down your back, slowly bringing you back to reality. “Need a second?”
You shake your head, the last of the fog slipping away. Before you, you see Hinata, his rigid cock slicked up by you only a few inches from your face. “I’m okay now, can you just say that again?”
“‘Course,” he grins, teasing your entrance, “I said I’m going to take your pretty pussy from back here and Shōyō is going to use your mouth. If you want.”
Wiggling your hips back to meet his and craning your neck up to look at Hinata you give a deft nod.
“I do, I want that.” You sigh.
Trembling with excitement, already so riled up from feeling you cum against him, Hinata shuffles the last bit forward. He’s pretty and much thicker than you had imagined. The tight strain of scattered veins and his heavy balls tell you all you need to know about how pent up he obviously is. Reaching out with palms still a bit shaky, you helped to reel him in the rest of the way with welcoming, parted lips.
You wrapped your fingers tightly around where you couldn’t quite reach, sloppily taking more and more of him with each bob of your head. His salty precum meshed with what was leftover of your own mess, the taste making you moan around his length.
Bokuto was trying to move slower now, recognizing that you were easily slipping, but the way you rocked your body back and forth bumping against his sensitive, reddened tip, he couldn’t hold back much more. Digging his fingers into your hip, he eased the motions of your body, lining himself up, resisting from plowing into you at full force.
“Ready?” He asks, nearly whining. At the sound of his voice, you pull off from Hinata, letting your quickly tiring jaw grow slack.
“Uh-huh.” You barely heave out before wrapping your lips around him again. So sure you can take both at once and not falter, you ramp back up to your original pace, slobbering down his cock, the click of your quick motions echoing around your head. Unfortunately for your ego, you’re dead wrong.
Bokuto wastes no time drilling himself into you, setting a bruising pace straight from the beginning. It’s all you can do to loudly moan around Hinata’s cock, still stuffed in your mouth by the slight pistoning of his hips, the way Bokuto is ramming you forward only forcing him deeper down your throat.
As you gag, sputter, and moan down his length, drool dripping onto the already soiled cushions below, Hinata feels the pressure building and building in his core. Electricity tingles down his limbs, aided by the fucked out look in your pretty eyes. He doesn’t even have to move now with the way Bokuto is railing you against him. He wonders if you realize he’s close when you suck a little tight, cheeks hollowing as you take a little more of him, the hand that had been working his base coming down to lightly hold his swollen balls.
You don’t know. At this point, you’re moving on autopilot, simply trying your best. Your brain doesn’t know where to focus - Hinata filling out your mouth or Bokuto as he purposely alternates between hitting against your spongy spot and deep inside of you. It’s all a mess of spit, sweat, and cum, but you don’t think you’ve felt the rush of pleasure that comes with being used so well by more than one person.
Bokuto doesn’t know how much longer he can last. You’re clamping around, cunt fluttering each time his digs in a little deep or Hinata’s cock twitches against your tongue. He can tell by the scrunched up expression on his friend’s face that he can’t last much longer and he doesn’t blame him. Between fucking against your pussy and being wrapped up in your pretty mouth, no one really could. He’s determined to hold out though, a little spark of competition lighting up his chest. When Bokuto’s strokes suddenly slow you groan again, the vibrations dragging a stuttered moan from Hinata’s pretty lips.
“Gonna, hngh, uh gonna cum.” He sputters out, hips quivering as he tries to hold back from fucking too far back into your throat. At that, Bokuto’s hips speed up again, forcing a little whimpered cry, muffled by the cock in your mouth, from you. Still, you force yourself to focus on Hinata, sucking him dry as soon as the first spurt of cum hits the back of your throat.
He cums fast and hard and a lot. It’s seeping out from your lips, making him messier than he already was until he’s pulling his softening length from your mouth and flopping back against the couch, gently rubbing your arm while he catches his breath. With a heavy grin, Bokuto shoves a hand between your shoulder blades, knocking you into Hinata’s lap. Somewhat in vain, you try to clean him off between the pitchy mewls and cries that you breathe out while Bokuto chases his own release.
In no time, he’s there again, his own pressure built up as high as it could just before he burst inside of you. He fucks himself raw, your tight hole sucking him in, his cum only making it easier to slip in and out of you. Knowing he’ll finish when he’s completely spent, you lie limp in Hinata’s lap and he lazily wraps a hand around the back of your neck, soothing the leftover tension. You recognize Bokuto’s nearly done when his cock stops twitching and his hips slot against yours with some finality just before he slumps over you.
Whining when he slips out, even soft his cock is still a tight squeeze, you fall all the way against the couch, legs giving out at last. He falls back against the back, moving your legs to sit on top of his thighs and massaging them with great care. Completely spent and drifting half-asleep you just barely hear him.
“So,” he starts, head lolling toward Hinata who’s still lightly working his fingers against your upper back, “Dinner next week?”
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enthusiasticharry · 6 months ago
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the one where you and harry are keeping a secret from your brother, who happens to hate harry’s guts. 
author’s note : hello everyone! i'm back with another fic, one that i can't believe i wrote so quickly to say the least. this is part of @harrystylescherry​‘s playlist challenge. i chose drive on by miss charlotte clark because it is an amazing song, and i can only hope that i’ve don't it justice.  
word count : 13.9k of a lot of angst, smut and only a tiny bit of fluff. i really don't know what happened to me. 
please talk to me about drive on here. let me know what you think :) 
But if we parted I'd be half-hearted So I'll leave the light on
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As you were getting ready that evening, you knew that you were going to have to try your hardest to not show that you were absolutely dreading what was about to happen. The light sounds of Fleetwood Mac filled your room as you finished making sure that you looked okay. It seemed as though the longer that you looked at yourself in the mirror, the more you started to doubt that you actually looked okay. 
You tilted your head to the side as you looked in the mirror, running your eyes up and down your own body as if to check that you’re at least presentable. Your outfit wasn’t too out of the ordinary, just a pair of black, flared trousers and a white knitted jumper because you knew that it is going to be quite chilly and you are going to be outside for a large portion of the evening and you make sure to pair it with some white trainers, ones that match so you start to feel a little more put together. Even though it certainly wasn’t the most out there outfit, it was okay and you had to keep reminding yourself of that. 
Walking down the stairs, you could hear the mumbling of your brother, Isaac, in the kitchen, along with someone else’s voice that you immediately recognise as Daisy, your best friend. You’re not exactly surprised at their discussion, because whenever they’re alone in a room together you know that it doesn’t usually end up with them discussing sunshine and rainbows. The more you think about it, the more you struggle to determine which one out of the two of them is more stubborn, because they both are just as stubborn as each other. 
“Baby sis!” You try not to roll your eyes at your brother’s greeting, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” 
“We’re coming with you.” You respond, walking forward so that you can greet your friend with a hug. You knew that it was going to be a long shot of him letting you come with him, but if Daisy was too you knew that he wouldn’t be able to say no, and that’s why you go with her every single time. It’s how you’re cheated the system of having an overprotective brother. 
“I thought you were going to Daisy’s for a sleepover?” He questions, and you nod your head. 
“I am.” You smile, “But after.” 
You walk over to grab yourself a bottle of water out of the fridge because you know that if you look at him in the eyes he’ll be staring at you in a way that you could do without. You know that he’s only saying the things that he is because he’s protective of you, but you also have to keep reminding him that it wasn’t the first time that you had gone out and been to a race with him, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last. 
Chugging down a bit of the water, Daisy extends her arm out to you and you pass the bottle to her, watching as she takes a sip before passing it back to you so that you can put the cap on. Even though you have been to the races before, that certainly didn’t meant that every time you did go you found yourself being more and more nervous for what you’re going to witness. It’s dangerous, and sometimes you feel a though you’re the only one out of all of them to notice that. 
“Every fucking time.” Isaac shakes his head and you smile. 
“Thank you.” You had an obnoxious grin on your face as you say the words, and you know it. 
“Yeah, well. . .” He shakes his head, “Just come on and let’s get in the fucking car.” 
The first time you went to one of the races, you remember not being able to focus on anything other than the fact that anyone could get really injured, or even die, at any second if they’re not careful. Maybe you were just too overly cautious, and you couldn’t ever find yourself focusing on the thrill and excitement of it all because you were too worried that someone was going to get hurt. It was even worse when the person you were worried about was someone you cared about like you did your brother. 
“One of these days you will take me without putting up a fight.” You say, following him towards his car, “I don’t know when it will be but I can feel it.” 
He looks at you as he opens his door, “That’s never going to happen. For one, I hate that you even come to where the races are held, more so that you stand and watch them.” 
You shrug and climb in the car, “Mum and Dad don’t know that you race, and if they’re not able to be there and worry about your safety then I am going to be the one to do so. Can’t have you risking your life and at least not one of us being there.”
He shakes his head and tuts, “I’m not risking my life. It’s just competitive driving.” 
You furrow your eyebrows and you hear Daisy chuckle, “You’re delusional.” 
“Says you.” 
The two of you hear a tut coming from the back seat, “I know the two of you are siblings, and this is just what I have to deal with, but sometimes I really do wonder whether or not you’re children hidden in fully grown bodies.” 
“I’m not the child.” Isaac’s quick to say, “If anything, you’re the child!” 
“Really?” You shake your head, “You must know that you saying that basically proving everything! You’re the child, Isaac.”
“God, I wish I’d never said anything.” Daisy shakes her head and you cross your arms over your chest, pouting slightly but trying not to make it too obvious because you really were trying to be the adult in this situation. 
You and Isaac weren’t the closest of siblings, to say the least. The two of you never did much together and if you did it wasn’t voluntarily, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t care for each other because you certainly did. The two of you would protect each other without any hesitation, in any situation because that was the type of siblings that you were. That didn’t mean that you were friends, though, because you didn’t have to be. You loved each other, and you cared for each other, but you didn’t have to be friends with each other and you were both okay with that. It was was though you both had an unspoken agreement that you’d look out for each other in this way. 
Turning onto the ever so familiar field, you know that it isn’t going to be long before your heart rate is going to feel as though it is beating out of your chest and your palms are going to start to get sweaty. You believed that you brother was good at what he did, he wouldn’t have gotten as far as he had if he didn’t, but even if someone is as good and as talented as he was that didn’t meant that accidents don’t happen. 
There isn’t just that fact that your brother is good at the sport to contend with, but also the fact that some people who do it may not be as good as he is, and they could be reckless, and in drag racing, recklessness gets people in trouble. You knew that, he knew that and everyone who participated and watched knew that. You knew that there were some people there just to watch the race whilst getting drunk with their friends and you didn’t mind that because that was what it was there to do, but you couldn’t stand the people who were there in hopes that something did go wrong, just to see a little bit of action in their boring day to day lives. 
You supposed that a part of your worry for these games were because you weren’t just worried about your brother, you were worried about somebody else also. Isaac stopped the car so that you and Daisy could get out but you hesitated before doing so. You looked at him, and he nodded at you so you nodded your head and again and got out. You stood and watched as he drove away, making his wear to where all of the participants line up their cars before it starts. 
Your eyes follow him, all the way along the man-made little road on the field and to where the other cars were. That’s when you see him, stood in exactly the same place as he was a few weekends before this one and a few weekends before that, leant against his car and his arms crossed as he chewed some gum. 
The insides of your stomach flutter, and not in nervousness but instead in the complete opposite way. He catches your eyes straight away, raising his eyebrows at you as you smile at him. You nod your head, trying hard not to let too big of a blush cover your cheeks and he nods back. That’s as far as your interaction with Harry can go at the moment, because if anyone saw the two of you communicating you knew that all hell would break loose and you certainly didn’t want to be around to see that. 
The race was going to start any second, and you made your way over to where Daisy was stood, knowing that she would have saved you a spot next to her so that you didn’t have to try and manoeuvre your way through the crowd to get a good spot to watch. You were relieved that you had arrived here not early enough to have to wait hours like you had before, because it was in the time like that where the overpowering feeling of worry was able to slip into you like nothing else and you would try really hard to overpower it but the majority of the time you never felt as though you could. 
What YN worried about the most though, was the fact that whoever could be injured in the race, or something worse, were both people that YN loved. The two of them for different reasons, of course, but it was still love and all of the love you felt for them was important. You watched as they both sat in their cars, driving towards the starting line with such an ease that you wondered whether or not they’d be able to do it in their sleep. You wouldn’t be surprised if they could. You know that Harry has raced in hundreds of races, and you also know that your brother is quickly catching up to that, but that doesn’t make it any easier, for them or for you. 
“Ready racers?” A woman walked in between the cars and held up a flag. Both her brother and Harry respond by a roar of their engine, “3! 2! 1! Go!” 
You look down slightly once you hear their cars start, going along the man-made path and over all of the hills and round all of the bends. You only look down for a second before looking up and watching as they drive away from you. The people around you cheer, and Daisy even cheers from the side of you but all you can make up the courage to do is clap your hands slightly. Every time you stand and watch a race, you always say to yourself that you’ll never do it again because you don’t think that you’re heart will survive it, but then you always come back to watch the next race because you physically can’t keep away. Not when two people you love are doing something that you know could end badly. 
They drive around, the two of them doing anything they can to try and throw the other off track but you know that it probably won’t work, because it works with everyone else but hardly ever with each other. You know that whoever wins will do so because of their speed, because that’s how it always happens when the two are up against each other. You stand there watching them drive for what feels like hours, the cheers only getting louder as the two of them fight for the first place prize. 
As the finishing line draws to a close, they’re playing cat and mouse with each other, and you know whoever is next to cross in front will win. 
It’s Isaac. Isaac won. You’re happy for him, but at the same time you know that Harry isn’t going to be the happiest but you’ll just have to remind him that he won last time and that he has to let other people win at some point. Your brother was cheering when he got out of his car, and you could see his friends bouncing over to him with smiles on their faces and drinks in their hands. You and Daisy make your way over, but you aren’t as excited they seem to see him. 
“Are you two leaving now?” He asks and you and Daisy look at each other before nodding, “Satisfied?” 
“Very.” You nod, “Well done.” 
“Thanks.” He raises his hand up and points at you, “Am I picking you up tomorrow?” 
You shake your head, managing to keep your cool as you did, “Daisy said she’ll drive me back. I don’t know whether you’ll be at work by the time we’re ready.” 
“Sounds good. See you tomorrow.” 
You physically let out a sigh of relief when you walk away and he believed you. You hate lying to him, you really do, but you just don’t see any other option to do what you’re doing without lying, which is horrible buy you really don’t know another wine. 
Daisy slips her arm into yours as you walk away, “Where’s he meeting you?” 
“In the usual place.” You nod, “I couldn’t see him when we were over there so I think he’s already gone.” 
“Okay.” She nods, “I’m catching a ride with Dennis, will you be okay?” 
“I’ll be fine.” You smile. 
“Call me if you need anything?” 
“You know I will.” 
“Good.” She wraps her arms around you before pulling away, “See you soon?” 
“See you soon.” 
The walk to the edge of the field, just behind a row of trees that hide Harry’s car from the watchful eye of others isn’t a long one, and you can feel the butterflies bubbling in the pit of your stomach the closer you walked to it. Just as every time you did this, your stomach was in twists and turns tightly in your stomach until you have to place your hand upon it as though it would calm it but it doesn’t. It doesn’t calm down until you see the back of the man you loves head, a slight cloud of smoke around his head and his leather jacket on his body. A smile immediately broke out over your lips. 
You bound over to him, immediately wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your cheek against the leather of his jacket. You can feel him tense underneath your touch slightly but once you hear and feel him chuckle, his whole body relaxes.
He hums, “Who might that be?” 
He grabs your hands and lightly pulls them away from his body so that he can turn around and place his hands around her back. You grin and place your chin on his chest, laughing softly as he leans down and places multiple kisses around your face, “Harry!” 
“What?” He grinned pulling away from you, shrugging his shoulders, “Do you not like my kisses or something?” 
You chuckle, “I love your kisses, but don’t you think they can wait until we’ll out of public. Away from my brother.” 
He pouts, dropping his head to your shoulder, “I suppose.” 
Harry walks over to the passenger side of the car and opened the door for you. As you walked towards him, you placed a kiss to his cheek and slipped into the car. The nerves were back in your stomach as you watched Harry walk around the car and slip into the driver’s seat. The two of you don’t get to see each other as much as you’d possibly like to, so nights like these were special to you, and you hoped that he was just as excited and nervous as you were. 
The second Harry was sat in his seat, and had started the car, his hand was on your thigh, squeezing the flesh through your trousers at you sat there. You really had missed feeling having him touching you, even though it hadn’t been that long. If it was up to you, Harry would be with you everyday and you would be able to kiss and touch him everyday without any issues, but you knew that just wasn’t the case. 
You and Harry had been together for a little shy of three years now, hiding your relationship from literally everyone apart from a few trusted people on each side of you. It wasn’t that you wanted to hide, but you both knew that you just had to if you were going to be able to have the relationship that you had. When you were younger, Harry and Isaac were best friends. You could always remember sitting in the back of the car after behind picked up from school and being squashed into the door because the middle seat was always taken by Harry. You can’t quite remember why the two of them fell out, but you did remember that it happened when the three of you were around fifteen or sixteen. 
It was a shock to everyone, because the two of them had been friends for the longest of times and Isaac did seem to be in a rut once it had happened. You had tried to talk to him about it a few times but he never said anything, so you turned to the one other person in the situation who might have to been able to help you. Harry. At first, he seemed to be completely shocked when you walked over to him one day after school and jumped into his car. He actually looked quite taken aback, but when you started asking questions about the falling out he just went quiet.
To this day you still don’t know what had happened between the two of them, but you do know that was the day that you relationship with Harry turned from being the generally acquaintances because you’re friends with my brother to something more. Harry was somebody who you had grown up with, and yes you could admit that he was handsome, but you’d never thought of him in a romantic way up until that point. A part of you wished that you had picked up on it early because you may have been able to kiss him sooner than you had but you were happy, and the two of you were now three years going strong. 
The fact that your brother and Harry had fallen out, and when the two of you got together it was really rocky between them, you both decided that the best thing to do was just not to tell him, which led to not telling anyone. You had said that when things improved between the two of them you would tell him, but once the Drag Racing started, there was no way that it would ever improve between the two of them, and you just had to accept that. 
Arriving at Harry’s apartment, it was almost as though your body was working on auto-pilot when Harry opened the door and you walked through. You kicked your shoes off by the door, walked into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water and made your way into his bedroom. Harry was already stood in the small room, placing his jacket in his wardrobe. You quickly started to undress, swapping your clothes for one of Harry’s shirts and a pair of your pyjama shorts. You walk into the bathroom to take your makeup off and brush your teeth. 
“Have you had any more thought into our anniversary trip?” Harry called from the bedroom. 
“I’ve thought about it.” You say, running your make up wipe over your eyes, “That’s about it.” 
You can hear his sigh even from the other room, and your inside’s twists in not the good way. The anniversary trip had been something that the two of you had spoken about for a long time, and it would be coming in a few months and Harry had been on your back for a long time so that they could get it booked, but you were thinking about a lot of other things rather than booking a holiday. You did hate that you didn’t have anything more to say to him, because you knew that he was disappointed, but there was only so much that you could say. 
“I’ll need to book time off of work soon, YN.” He appears only in his boxers in the doorway, leant against it with his arms crossed, “I need to know the dates.” 
“I know.” You sigh, turning so that your hip was leant against the counter, “I still just need to figure out what I’m going to tell Isaac.” 
Harry sighs and runs his hand over his face, “I know. We can think of what to say to him later, but as soon as possible can you tell me the dates.” 
He walks over and places his hands on your waist and you nod, “I will. I’ll check when I get home.” 
“Good.” He presses a kiss to your cheek. 
You hated hiding things from Harry, you really did, because that man really was your soulmate and the person in this world that you told everything to, so it felt horrible to be hiding something from him. Hiding things from Harry felt like ripping your heart from your chest — you just couldn’t do it— but here you were, doing it without anything happening. 
It had been a long night for the two of them, and you knew that even though Harry had a brave face on, you knew that inside he probably wasn’t too happy that he’d lost. The thing about Harry, and your brother for that matter, was that they are so competitive, especially with each other, that when either one of them loses they try to seem like they don’t care but they do. When you walked back into the room, Harry was already in bed with his arms crossed and his face in a sulk. 
You sighed and walked over to your side of the bed, pulling the duvet back and slipping under. Harry didn’t even turn to look at you, so you wrapped your arm around his waist and placed your head upon his chest so that he couldn’t help but look at her. You knew that the main thing that you needed to do right now was try and get him out of the rut. It could spring on him at any point but it was never anything that was easy to get him out of. You sighed and pressed a kiss to his bare chest. 
“Do you want to talk about it?” You mumbled against his chest. 
“There’s nothing to talk about.” He mumbled and you shook your head, lifting your hand up to push some of his hair out of his face. 
“There obviously is.” You sighed, “You’re in your rut. Talking about it takes you out of it. I know that, you know that, but you’re just too stubborn to realise this.” 
“I’m not too stubborn.” He pouts and you shake your head with a roll of your eyes, raising one of your eyebrows at him, “I just. . . fucking hate loosing to him. Talking about the anniversary, and I know why you haven’t said anything about it yet, baby, just reminded me. I’m sorry.” 
You hesitate for a second before smiling at him, “I know you are, H, don’t worry. It’s my fault. I should’ve told you.” 
“Don’t.” He shakes his head and leans forward, placing his hand upon your cheek, “Don’t apologise. I get that it’s hard for you, I know. I just. . . wish that I could take it all away from you. It’s my fault that you’re having to keep secrets from your brother.” 
You shake your head, “It’s not your fault. I promise that it isn’t your fault. There’s been hundreds of times in the past three years when I could have told him.” 
“It’s not just you. We need to tell him.” 
If you needed anything else to love Harry for (which you really don’t because you love him with you’re entire being) you feel as though this would be one of those things. You couldn’t believe how understanding he was, and even though the two of you did have times where you butted heads on things, it was never over anything big like this. The two of you made sure that if you ever did have a problem that you needed to sort, there would be some arguing and shouting but there is in any couple, but the two of you always made up before it ended up turning ridiculous. 
You turned your head to Harry and placed you lips on his, pushing his shoulders down with your hand so that he’s on your back. You move slightly underneath the duvet that you were both under, manoeuvring yourself so that you were hovering over his body, the two of your lips never separating. You were straddling him, your hands resting on the pillow by Harry’s head. Your hips ground against his boxers involuntarily, and you can feel him smiling against him. Harry moaned into your mouth, and you could feel his bulge growing harder and bigger beneath you. 
Pulling away slightly you lean forward and place your forehead upon his, smiling as you place a small kiss to his nose. The hard and stern face of your boyfriend that you had seen earlier when he was racing had completely disappeared, and it was now replaced by his soft and flush features that he only ever saved for when he was with you, and you loved it. You could still feel his hard-on rubbing against your thigh, and you leant forward and placed your lips back on his. His arms wrapped around your waist and back, slipping them down until he could squeeze and knead the flesh over your pyjama short. 
“You know I fucking love you, right?” He mumbles against your lips and you nod. 
His hips continue to buck up to yours, whilst you grind yours back down to him. You pulled away and leant your head upon his forehead again, “I know you love me. You know I love you?” 
He responded you flipping you over, his body now hovering over you. He gave you a boyish smile and nodded his head, leaning his head back down to place his lips on your neck, pressing small little kisses to the skin. 
“I know you love me.” He mumbles against her lips, “Do you wanna feel me, baby? Have you missed me?” 
You responded with a moan, the sound of his raspy voice goes all the way from your ear, all the way down your spine to the heat between your legs. You wouldn’t be surprised if your panties were completely ruined by now. 
“Of course I’ve missed you.” You mumble against his lips, your cheeks flushing as you admit it to him. For years you two have been this close, but it didn’t stop you from being nervous every single time that you are near each other. It’s always how it had been, and probably how it will always be but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 
“Tell me how much you’ve missed me.” He kissed down your neck, and you couldn’t help the smile that crossed you face as he did so, “Don’t hold back, baby.” 
You threw your head back as he moved downwards, threading your fingers through his hair as you did so. You just hoped that it made him feel better than it was. 
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Walking home the next morning, your entire body was relaxed and happy in a way that it only ever is after you’d spent time with Harry. If you passed anyone in the street, you smiled at them and there was a slight bounce in your step. There was an excitement that there hadn’t been in you for a long time because you were going to look over your schedule and finally get yourself sorted for your anniversary trip with Harry. Walking through the door that goes into kitchen, you immediately walk over to the fridge to take the orange juice out. 
“Morning little sis.” You jump out of your skin and turn around, leaning your back against the counter and lifting your hand up to your chest as it beats in your chest. Looking at your brother, it seemed as though he had just got back from a run, since he was all sweaty, he had his running shoes on and his headphones around his neck. Immediately your heart started to beat in your chest quicker, and the relaxation that you had felt before had immediately left your body and you feel back on edge as you do a lot of the time recently. 
“Morning.” You grin, turning back around to open a cupboard to grab a glass that you could fill with the orange juice carton that you were still holding, “Been for a run?” 
He nods his head, walking over to the fridge and taking out a bottle of water. When he wasn’t looking directly at you, a sigh escaped your lips. It was quickly over and he was looking at you again, leant against the counter across from you with his arms crossed. 
“Woke up with the want to go for a run.” He explained and you furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him and he chuckles, “I know, totally unlike me but I really did just feel like it.” 
You nod, your fingers tapping on the counter slightly, “Did you. . . did you go on your normal route?” 
Isaac shakes his head, “I met up with D’Angelo. We went to the lake.” 
Just like that, the worry that was in your body had left. The lake was on the other side of the town to where Harry lived, and where Isaac normally ran meaning that he couldn’t have seen you leaving Harry’s house which was good. You were starting to realise that the more you had to make sure that your brother hadn’t seen or didn’t know anything about you and Harry, the harder it was becoming for you to keep track of everything. The lie of staying over at Daisy’s had worked for years now, but the older that you got and the more that situations were changing for the two of you, it was harder to keep it as a lie. 
“Was it busy?” You ask, trying to make conversation that made it seem as though everything was normal and nothing had happened. 
He shakes his head, “Not really.” He hesitates for a second before looking up at you and tilting his head to the side, “I did see Daisy and Dennis though.” 
And just like that, your whole body was back to being on edge and nervous. The only way that you could describe how you felt was a mixture of both shock and immediate nervousness. Isaac continued to drink from the bottle in his hand, with no malice or shock on his features at all. If he did know something, he would’ve had said something by now and you knew that because of how well you knew him and that’s in one of the ways how you were both similar — when you knew something, you couldn’t keep it a secret. 
It was something that you had grown up with, your inability to keep secrets and you were honestly and truthfully so surprised that you and Harry had managed to keep your relationship a secret for so long. This wasn’t the first time that you had thought that Isaac had found out about your relationship, and it wasn’t the first time that you hadn’t been able to figure out how to get out of it but you knew that you would be able to get yourself out of it. You hoped that you would be able to get yourself out it. 
You were started to get quite nervous though, with sweaty palms and a heart beating directly up against your chest. Your mind spiralled and you hoped that you were going to hear something that would stop your chest in the next few minutes. 
“Did you?” You cleared your throat to make it seem as though you were more put together than you were. 
He hums, “Yeah. They explained that you were walking home and that Dennis’ arrival was out of the blue.”
You nod and smile, your heart stopping to beat so quickly the second those words escaped her lips, “Yeah. He appeared and asked her to go on a walk before work later. I said that I’d just walk home so that Daisy could go. I think he’s going to ask her out soon.” 
Isaac scoffs and crossing his arms over his chest, “I hope so. They’ve only been dancing around it for the last few years.”
You nod, “We’ve all said it. I don’t know how many times we’ve told her but anyway, I’m going to get in the shower before getting ready for work.” 
You’re quick to walk out of the kitchen and up the stairs with your head spinning. The entire time that you’re getting ready, showering and doing your hair, standing in front of your mirror and looking at the marks that Harry had left over the entirety of your skin before putting your work uniform on, you’re thinking about what you’re going to do. Today you were going to book some time off work from the café during the week of your anniversary, and even though that Daisy would know why you were doing that, you didn’t have to tell anyone else there. When it came to being at home, and telling your brother why you were going to be leaving for a month whilst Daisy stayed at home was going to be hard to explain to say the least. You were going to have to think very carefully about what you were going to say. 
Walking into the small café you worked at not that long later, you were happy to finally be in the place where anything else that happened in your life went to the back of your mind and you could focus on making drinks and serving customers. You had worked at the café since the day you turned eighteen, and you had worked there ever since. It wasn’t what you wanted to do forever, working in the little café with your best friend and your boss that is just an absolute asshole, but you just haven’t got the funds or was it the right time for you to try and get your dream going. 
Your dream, albeit a big one, was to one day own your own café that sold your own treats that you made and looked the exact way that you wanted it to. You had been planning your own café and telling everyone you knew about it since sitting in your maths classes in middle school when you realised that school really wasn’t for you. You were okay in school, and you got good enough grades, but none to get you to what you wanted to do in life. Over the last three years, many of your conversations with Harry had been about your café and how you would work there whilst he would take over his father’s mechanical shop. 
That was the plan for the future, but first — you had a shift to do and you had a lie to think of. 
“Afternoon.” You mumbled as you walked into the small café, Daisy’s eyes immediately widening as she takes a look at you stood there, “How are you?” 
“I’m sorry.” Daisy blurts out, not being able to stop herself from doing so, “I really didn’t know that he was going to be there, if I did I would have never gone there, you know that.” 
“I know.” You walk over and wrap your arms around her shoulders briefly, “He doesn’t know, it’s fine. I shouldn’t be relying on you so much, Daisy, I know that. I’m trying to figure out what to do.” 
“It’s okay, YN.” She mumbles, placing her hand upon your shoulder with a smile, “I know why you’ve done it, but I’m glad you’re finally coming to your senses. It’s three years too late, but at least you’re here.” 
“At least it’s happening now.” You sigh, widening your eyes as you look at her. 
“You’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.” 
You sigh and nod your head, hoping that she was right. 
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You heard Harry’s car before you could see it, pulling up outside of your house in a quick stop so that you could quickly duck out and get it. Isaac was out for the night, doing another race in another town that Harry couldn’t do because he had work, so they had decided to spend the night together. Due to Isaac being out of town, they decided that they might even be able to go for a meal, to a restaurant, like a normal couple would. 
You gave him a small smile and a peck on the lips as you sat in the car. There hadn’t been much discussion between you and Harry that week, not since you had left his that morning. It was odd, because the two of you spoke everyday, even if it was just to check that the other was okay, but the conversation this week had been limited to you asking him to come for a meal and him replying saying that he would. You always knew that this day would come, where the unspoken issue between the two of you had become too much for you to handle. 
You had tried five times over the last week to say something to Isaac, trying to drop it in to normal conversation but you always dived away from it, as though you couldn’t allow yourself to say what you wanted to say to him. You had never been as nervous before in your life, and all you had to do was tell him about a secret that involved the one person that Isaac hated most in life and his twin sister. You just had to try your hardest to remind yourself over and over again that it was the best thing to do, and that you’d be happy if you were able to get the words out, but you just couldn’t. 
The two of you arrived at a restaurant on the outskirts of the town you lived in, one that meant you would be safe if Isaac did return home and one that the two of you also knew would serve good food. The car ride continued without any words spoken between the two of them, and you tried your hardest to not feel the nerves bubbling inside of you, but you also knew that there was a reason why you were going to have this conversation with him, and there was a reason why you needed to feel nervous for it. 
Sitting across from Harry in a booth that sat at the front of the restaurant, you couldn’t even bring yourself to take your eyes off of his face. There hadn’t been a lot of times during your relationship with Harry where you had felt like this, and it was usually always when the two of you were discussing the exact topic that you knew that you were going to be now. Whilst you couldn’t take your eyes off of Harry, it seemed as though he wanted nothing more than to not look at you. 
“Hey.” He didn’t look up from the menu that he had in his hand, “Are you going to even look at me?” 
You watch as he doesn’t even move a muscle, never mind do the thing that you wanted him to do which was look at you, “I’ve looked at you.” 
“Not since we’ve sat down you haven’t.” 
You watch as he sighs and drops the menu down so that it was rested upon the table between you and lifts his eyes up to look at you, “Happy now?” 
A small smile breaks out your face, a sarcastic one at that, but a smile nonetheless, “Very.” 
Harry rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. You look at him with your eyes widened. Why this was happening all of a sudden, you didn’t know, but you had a slight suspicion that you weren’t going to be able to argue your way out of this one with him like you had done in the past. The first thing that led you to believe that was the fact that you were in a public place, where you had to do your best to make sure that you were going to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. 
As a whole, you were ashamed of your actions over the years, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to apologise for everything that you had done in the past but you could at least try. Everything had changed now that you had your three year anniversary coming up, and you realised that there was so much more to life than trying to hide a stupid secret from your brother. 
“Harry.” You start, a sigh immediately leaving your lips after, “I’m sorry. I really am.” He nods his head, “I don’t expect you to accept my apology, and I certainly don’t expect you to forgive me for the shit that I’ve put you through these last couple of years, but, I want to let you know that I am trying to fix things. I promise you.” 
He sighs, “I don’t know how you can, YN. I’ve thought about it a lot recently, in the past week, since our conversation last week.” 
“I have too.” You nod, your fingers messing with the hem of your jacket, “I have too. I’ve tried so many times, to tell him, but I just can’t and I don’t know why. He can’t do anything, I’m a grown ass woman and he’s just my brother. He can’t tell me who I can and can’t love, and I do love you Harry more than anything, but there’s a part of me that just can’t tell him.” 
Harry cleared his throat and sighed, “I never told you the reason we argued.” 
You shake your head, “Neither of you did.” 
“Do you want to know?” He asked. 
You shrugged, “I don’t know. . . if it will help, than yes.”
Harry sighed and nodded his head, running his finger over his bottom lip the way that you knew that he did when he was nervous, “We were in Eugene’s basement, having just watched one of his races and he had some shit, and we decided to take it. It was just us, everyone else had gone to do something else or get high somewhere else, and we were just sat.” You were hanging off of every word that he said, “We were taking about, I don’t know, life and all the shit that we usually do when we’re high and we got onto the topic of you.”
Your eyes widen, “Me? Why were you talking about me?” 
“He mentioned you and how you wanted to do things with your life and how he was fed up that all he had to do with his life was race.” Harry chuckled and shook his head, “I couldn’t even help it, I just blurted out that I liked you and that I was going to ask you on a date, thinking that he would be happy for us, but instead, he punched me in the face.” 
Your lips part, “He what?” 
“He punched me.” Harry runs a hand through his hair, “And then he just started screaming at me, saying that scum like me wasn’t good enough for someone like you. The more he said it, the more I believed it and I believed it all the way until you got in my car and asked me to tell you what had happened. I didn’t, and I didn’t for a reason, because if I had told you maybe you would’ve thought the same as him, that I wasn’t good enough for you, so instead I asked you on the date, just like I had planned to.” 
You let his words sink in for a while, the sound of them bouncing around in your head for a while as you look down at the table in front of you. You couldn’t lie and say that you hadn’t thought about what had gone down between them, and what had been said to make them despise each other as much as they did, but you certainly hadn’t expected it to be about you of all things. It started to all make sense now, how when you had asked him, after your first night together at his house, if he was okay that you didn’t tell your brother about the two of you being together, and he agreed. At first you had thought that it was odd, seeing as though this man didn’t know your motive behind why you were saying that, but at the same time, you didn’t know his motive behind why he said yes. 
It all made sense. 
You sigh and nod your head, “Why didn’t you just tell me? I would’ve understood. You know that I would’ve.” 
He shrugs his shoulders, “Why didn’t you tell me about what you had been thinking? And what you had been trying to do?” 
You shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know.” 
“It works both ways, YN.” He shrugs, “And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you but a part of you has to realise that there was a reason you didn’t tell me and you didn’t tell him. I understand a part of you was trying to keep it calm between us, but there had to be more than that.”
You can feel the tears starting to brim within your eyes, and the more that you thought about it, the more that you knew you were going to struggle to hold them back. You start to blink quickly, lifting your eyes up to look at the ceiling. It worked, and you managed to make sure that no tears slid down your cheeks. 
“A part of me did do it because I knew that it would be easier for you, that you didn’t have to tell him that you were my boyfriend. I knew how hard that would’ve been for you.” You explain, lifting your hand up to scratch your forehead, “So I decided that for a little while, I just wouldn’t tell him. At least not until things had calmed down between the two of you. After a few months of waiting was going to say something to him, just drop it into conversation and then walk out of it with my hands up but then I realised that it wasn’t going to be that easy. The day that I was going to do it, he walked into my bedroom with this big news that he was so excited to tell me.” You take in a breath and sigh, “It was the news that you were starting to drive, and that he was going to beat you that night and I knew that if I had told him, he wouldn’t have just beat you in the race.” 
“I can stand up for myself, YN.” 
“I never said that you couldn’t.” She shook her head, “I just didn’t want you getting hurt because of me.” 
“I wouldn’t be getting hurt because of you. I’d be getting hurt because of something we did.” He explains, “Just like you can’t blame this all on me, and me on you, I’m not going to let you blame this all on yourself either.” 
“Harry.” You sigh and lean back in the chair that you sat in, “We’re going to have to tell him.” 
He shakes his head, “He’s not going to like it.” 
“I know.” You agree with him and hold your hand out, “But we’ve got to tell him.” 
“I know we have.” He grasps your hand in his.
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It turned out that you and Harry didn’t have to wait for too long to tell your brother, because when Harry pulled up outside of your house, your brother was already sat there on the steps of the house, waiting for you to arrive home. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing if you were completely honest, and a part of you realised that this was it. You turned to look at Harry slightly, a sigh leaving your lips as you did so. 
“You still want to do this?” He asked, pulling his keys out of the ignition as the car came to a complete stop. 
You sigh and lean over to place your hand upon his, “I don’t think we have a choice, now.” 
“We do.” He turned his head to look at you, squeezing your fingers as he did so, “I could just drive away. Ignore him.” 
You chuckle and shake your head, lifting your connected hands up to place a kiss to the back of his hand, “Come on. He might explode if we keep him waiting any longer.” 
You certainly couldn’t lie and say that your brother looked like he was handling everything well, because he certainly wasn’t. His jaw seemed to be constantly clenched the entire time that you walked towards him, and you definitely saw his hands that were clenched by his sides in fists. You knew that he was going to be annoyed, and you expected that there would certainly be some shouting involved with this, but, she certainly didn’t want this to become physical at any point. In your opinion, it certainly wasn’t worth it. 
“YN.” You stop in front of him once he’s spoken your name, and Harry is just a few steps behind you. Having him there really brings a comfort that you don’t really feel unless you’re with him, so if anything, you were happy that he was there, “What are you doing with him?” 
“I’m—” You start, looking at him for a second before letting out a sigh, “He’s—”
You can’t find the right words to say what you want to say. You knew that it wasn’t going to be easy to explain to your brother, but you at least thought that you’d be able to get past the first words without choking up, but it seemed as though that wasn’t the case. 
“Isaac—” Harry takes a step forward, so that he was directly next to you but before he could say anything else, Isaac holds his hand out to stop him. 
“I wasn’t talking to you.” Harry clamps his lips shut, and you can tell that he’s trying to hold back so many things but at least he isn’t making the situation worse which you knew that he possibly could. Isaac then turns to you, “I was asking you the question. What are you doing with him?” 
Letting out a sigh, you shut your eyes for a second to calm yourself down, “I’m. . . we’re together, Isaac.” 
He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, tutting slightly as he did so, “When Eugene told me, I didn’t believe him. I said that you’d never do that to me because you know that I hate him more than I’ve hated anyone in my life before.” 
At first you listen to the words that he was saying and you nod along, as if you’re understanding what they’re saying, but you quickly shake your head and cross your arms over your chest. 
“I’d never do what to you, Isaac?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing as you say the words you were speaking, “I’ve fallen in love with someone, Isaac, I don’t think that involves you at all.”
“But you know I can’t stand him!” 
“Still here, you know.” Harry mutters, lifting his hands up and walking away from them slightly. 
You turn over to look at Harry and glare at him slightly before you turn your attention back to Isaac, “Why do you think I didn’t tell you? I knew that you’d react like this.” 
“What? I’d react completely sane, YN?” Isaac scoffs and shakes his head. 
“Sane?” You physically can’t believe what you’re hearing, “Isaac, you don’t have the right to act like this over who is my boyfriend. Yeah, I understand that you don’t like Harry and he isn’t particularly fond of you either, but you don’t have a say in that.” You stop slightly and let out a sigh of relief when you realise that you’ve got him listening, “I would completely understand if you were upset about me not telling you and lying to you, but that is what you can be mad at.” 
He looks at you but then he shakes his head, and you know that everything that you’ve just said has gone and he couldn’t care less about it now. 
“YN.” You know that tone of voice anywhere, and you couldn’t believe that he was still acting like this, “It’s Harry. You don’t know the shit that he said, and you don’t know what it was like to sit and listen to him saying everything he said about you.” 
This time, it’s you who lets the words that he’s just spoken sink in for a while. If what Harry had said to you earlier was true, that all your brother had to be upset about was him saying that he liked you and wanted to ask you out. Now, you’re not exactly sure how the male mind works, but you’re pretty sure that Isaac can distinguish between someone saying that they like someone and something else. You turn to look at Harry and he looks down at the floor, and that’s when you realise very quickly that there was something else to the story that you didn’t know. The mere thought of it made you feel sick. What had actually been said that night?
“Isaac.” You turn back to look at him, “What was said?” 
“YN.” He shakes his head, scratching his forehead slightly, “I don’t want to tell you.” 
“Tell me.” Your words are harsh and you can tell by the way that Harry backs away from you that you’re about to be in for a real treat, “Tell me!” 
“When we were in high school, we had this list.” Isaac starts, and you know that what he is saying is probably really important context but you just want him to get to the point, “And on this list, we’d rank who we thought were the most fuck-able girls in the school.” 
Your entire heart plummets to the pit of your stomach, “That’s disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourselves.” 
“I am, don’t worry.” Isaac nods, “Harry never got involved with it, and we all knew why, because he was the good one who never cared about those things and everyone just accepted that. I certainly did.” 
“Just get on with it, Isaac.” 
“Well, we were in Eugene’s basement and we were high and drunk and everything was just a little blurred if I’m honest, but I asked Harry a question. I said, best friend to best friend, if you were to pick one person to go on the top of the list, and just be his one person and nobody apart from us would ever find out, he turned to me and said: you.” 
You can’t figure out what your angrier at. You can’t decide whether it’s because Harry had actually said those words to your brother, degrading you in such a way that you had never ever expected him to or the fact that he had lied to you about what had actually happened. In honesty, you do think that thing that has upset you the most was that he didn’t tell you the truth. He could have told you what had actually happened earlier on in the day on you wouldn’t have cared, because you knew that he was high and drunk and he probably wouldn’t have meant it but the fact that he lied, made you feel sick to your stomach. It made you question whether or not he had lied to you at other points and you just hadn’t known because you were too naïve to see it. 
You turn to look at Harry and he’s looking directly back at you, not at the ground and not anywhere else but directly at you. 
“Harry.” You can already feel the tears start to form within your eyes, “Tell me it’s not true.” 
Harry shakes his head and looks down at the ground, and you shake your head to try and back the tears. You know that if you open your mouth words will tumble out that you really don’t mean, and you know that you can’t let that happen but you’re in such a state that you know that you’re mind would be clouded with how upset you are. 
“He knows it’s fucking, true, YN.” Isaac says from behind you, “That’s why we fucking fought and punched the living daylights out of each other.” 
You shake your head again, the tears involuntarily spilling down your cheek, “Harry. Why didn’t you tell me?” 
“I thought—” He starts but then he shakes his head, “I didn’t—”
Just like you couldn’t find the words to say, it seemed as though Harry couldn’t either. You really didn’t care about what he said, and you wouldn’t care about what he said. There were things that you’d said when you were younger and in high school that you certainly regretted and you would hate if anyone was to bring them up but you wouldn’t lie about it. You had lied in the past and done things in the past that you didn’t agree with, but it wasn’t as though you were doing it for any other reason but to protect the relationships that you had made with people. 
“Harry.” He lifts his head to look at you, “I think you should go.” 
“YN. . .” He takes a step forward towards you but you hold your hand up. 
“Just for tonight.” You nod your head, “We’ll speak tomorrow. We all just need to. . . calm down.” 
“But YN. . .” He takes another step forward but you shake your head. 
“Please, Harry.” You close your eyes, “Just for tonight.” 
He doesn’t seem very happy with what you had said but he nods at you once before walking over to his car and getting in. He slams the door closed behind him, and you flinch when he does so. You watch through the window as he looks at you one last time before starting the engine and driving. 
He drives on, and he doesn’t look back, not even one last time and you watch as his car disappears off the street. Once you know that he’s gone, you start walking towards the end of the drive and down to the pavement. 
“YN—” Isaac starts but you turn to look at him and shake your head. 
“Not now.” You run a hand through your hair, “I’m going to Daisy’s. I’ll be fine.” 
With that, you walk down the street and towards Daisy’s house, the thoughts of what had just happened dancing around in your head. You knew that this was going to happen at some point, and it would all blow up in your face, you just hadn’t know that it would be like this.
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The next day you return home with bags underneath your eyes and yawns escaping your lips. You would say that you’re nervous, but after being up all night with worry in your stomach, you’re pretty certain that you’re just a little anxious but the thing that overwhelms your brain more than anything is the want for all of this to be over. You needed to sort things out with your brother, so you could go back to being siblings that annoy each other more than anything, and then you need to sort everything out with Harry. You knew that it was going to be hard, and you knew that your emotions were going to be high but you needed to get it over and done with. You weren’t going to allow your life to be like this for longer than it needed to be, and it didn’t need to be at all. 
When you walked through the front door of your house, you didn’t know what you were expecting to see, but you really didn’t expect what you saw. Isaac was laid across the couch, with empty beer bottles on the table in front of him. You knew why he had done it, and you hated that it was your fault that he had done it but at the same time he was a grown man, just like you were a grown woman, and he knew that this wasn’t the right way to go about things. 
With a sigh, you walked over to the sofa and picked up one of the cushions by Isaac’s feet and threw it air his head. He groaned and moved around and that was when you nudged his legs so that you could sit down. He groaned again but moved them away, and you heard him yawn and felt his body lift up from beside you so that he was upright. 
“How’s the head?” You mumble, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back in the seat. 
He groans and does the same, “It’s been better.” 
You chuckle and close your eyes, allowing a slight calmness to wash over your body. If there was one thing that you missed about getting older, was not being able to have the stupid conversations with him that made absolutely no sense to anybody but the two of them. But, something that you did know was that even when this was all sorted and everything went back to normal, you wouldn’t be surprised if not everything went back to normal between the two of you. It was something hard to understand, but you just had to accept it because you wouldn’t be surprised if it took years to fix. 
There’s a silence between the two of you for a while, but you quickly realise that isn’t going to help you in your situation so without really thinking you collect yourself and let out a small breath that you didn’t know you had been hiding for a while. 
“I’m sorry.” You say, the words coming out of your mouth stronger than you had expected them to. You thought that they would at least be broken, but they weren’t, “I’m sorry for everything, but most importantly, I’m sorry for lying and keeping it from you.” 
You don’t know what Isaac is going to say, and the fact that you don’t does make you worry slightly but you know that you’d be able to handle whatever he was going to say. You would be able to handle it because you were strong, at this point you needed to be. 
“I accept your apology.” He says, and you turn to look at him with tears in your eyes. He nods at you and smiles, “The more I thought about it, the more I understood why you did it. If the shoe was on the other foot I would’ve done the exact same thing. I wouldn’t have even hesitated to.” 
You nod your head and close your eyes, a few tears falling from them but you’re quick to lift your hand and wipe them away. He reaches over and grabs your hand, and you squeeze his as you do so. 
“I shouldn’t have lied to you though.” You shake your head, “We don’t lie to each other.” 
“Oh.” Isaac shakes his head and you furrow your eyebrows at him, “We don’t lie to each other but we certainly keep secrets. The amount I’ve kept from you. . . you’d probably kill me.” 
Your lips part in shock, “Are you going to tell me them?” 
“No.” He shakes his head, a chuckle leaving his lips, “I maybe will later, but right now, you’ve got somewhere to be.” 
“Have I?” He taps his hand on your leg and stands up, and all you can do is furrow your eyebrows in response. 
“You have.” You watch as he grabs his jacket and places it on his body, “And I’m going to take you there.” 
You know straight away that Isaac is talking about going to see Harry, and just the fact that he was going to take you made you want to burst out into even more tears that you had been before. You didn’t though, because you were able to keep your calm and just smile and nod along with him, but it was certainly hard for you to do. It felt as though you were getting acceptance from Isaac and although you knew that you didn’t really need it, it sure felt good to have. You offered him a quick smile and got into his car, driving you to Harry’s and leaving you there with a squeeze of his hand. 
Even though you weren’t that nervous when it came to talking to Isaac, speaking to Harry was a completely different thing. Whereas you and Isaac had a sibling bond that could never be broken, you and Harry had a bond, one that was love to the highest degree, but it was still a love that could be broken. You just hoped that this wasn’t it and you hadn’t met the point of no return just yet. 
You palms were sweaty as you knocked on his door, and your heart felt as though it was going to beat out of your chest but you knew that this was the right thing to do. You could hear shuffling behind the door, and then it swung open, and you wanted to sigh in relief just at the sight of him stood there. He looked like he hadn’t slept, but you hadn’t either so it was something that you both had in common, and he had his joggers hung low on his hips in a way that you always found so endearing whenever he did it. 
“Hi.” You say, the corners of your lips tilting upwards slightly, “Can I come in?” 
He opens his mouth as if to say something but then he just ends up nodding his head and opening the door wider so your body can slip through. It looks exactly the same as the last time you had been there, and it felt comfortable and like your home. It certainly was your home away from home, and living with Harry would be something that you wouldn’t mind doing in the future if time permitted you too. You had to remind yourself to take a few steps back and look at the situation ahead of you, and how you had a lot of things that you needed to talk about before anything else in the future could happen. 
Walking into the apartment, you hear Harry shut the door behind you. You knew that he wasn’t too far behind you, so you turned around.
“I didn’t think you’d be here so soon.” He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, “I thought you’d need a few days.” 
“I said I would talk to you tomorrow.” You smile and nod your head, “I’m wasn’t about to go back on that.” 
You swear you can see the slight lift of the corner of his lips, and it’s the first sign to you that everything might actually end up being okay. 
“I know you think we have things to talk about but I actually just have one thing to say.” He says, taking a step forward towards you. You watch as he hesitantly reaches out and grabs your hand, and you smile at just the feeling of his skin on yours again, “I’m sorry, That’s all I can say. I’m sorry that I said those things all those years ago, and I’m more sorry that I didn’t tell you about it when I had the chance. It was stupid of me, and I can understand if you want to. . . if you want to.” He physically stops and you can tell that he’s struggling with something, “If you want to break up with me.” 
You gasp at his words, taking a step forward and placing your hands on his cheeks, “Harry. . . no. Don’t think that. I’m not going to break up with you over that.” 
You can hear him physically sigh and you couldn’t even understand why he dared to think the way that he was, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know how you’d think.” 
“Harry.” You lean forward so that your forehead is on his, “I’m upset that you lied, but I did too. If anything, we’re just as bad as each other. That’s probably why we’re so perfect for each other, right?” 
“Right.” He chuckled, nodding his head, “We’re perfect for each other. I love you so much, I’m so sorry.” 
“I’m sorry too.” You close your eyes as you let the words sink in, “If there’s one way I know how we’re never going to go through anything like this again, is if we promise to never keep anything from each other again.” 
“We won’t.” He mumbles, “I won’t.” 
“Good. I won’t either.” Your hands grip onto his arms as they wrap around your neck, “I need you, Harry Styles. I do.” 
“I need you too.” 
With that you open your eyes so that you can look directly in his, a small smile breaking over your lips at the fact the two of you knew that he needed you just as much as you needed him. It certainly made this entire situation feel as though it happened for a reason, that it happened so that you could be stronger than you already were. You never doubted that he loved you, and that you loved him, but there was the doubt that everything would have caught up with you, and that was something that you knew would be your fault. All of this was your fault, for not being honest in the first place, but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t find it in yourself to be honest now and get you and Harry through this. 
Without even the slightest hint of hesitation you lean forward and place your lips on his, and he didn’t wait to kiss back, his tongue moving against his bottom lip before pushing it through your parted lips. Your tongue met his in your mouth, and you pulled each other closer, grasping at each other with the want and need that never stopped when you were around him. The spark that you always felt when you were with him ran all the way down from the skin of your lips to the tip of your toes, fluttering all over your body. You had told him that you needed him, which was the truth, but you were soon starting to realise that there was more to the need you had for Harry than what met the eye. It was something that went past all of the words in the dictionary to actions that you needed to name, and that’s why you pulled away and rested your head on his forehead. 
“Harry.” You mumble, “Take me to the bedroom.” 
He pulls away and furrows his eyebrows, not expecting those words to slip from your mouth, “Are you sure? We don’t have to.” 
“I’m sure.” You mumble against his lips, “Never been more certain of anything in my entire life.” 
He presses kisses against your neck and shoulders as he places you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours. When he starts to put a little more pressure on your skin with his teeth, you can’t help the light moans that start to escape your lips. He starts to toy with the hem of your shirt, and you respond to him by lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist. Your hips move in circular motions to his, and it’s his turn to moan into you. 
You pull away and sit up, pulling your shirt over your head and revealing your bra to him. It wasn’t the nicest bra you owned, but it got to the point in your relationship when you didn’t need to wear fancy lingerie all of the time to feel good enough for him, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t every now and then to feel sexy. Every now and then, though, just like you felt now, you realise that you don’t need to wear anything to feel sexy because just the way that Harry looked at you made you feel like that. The was his eyes raked up and down your body, across every inch of skin that he could see. That made you feel sexy. The way he looked at you made you feel sexy. 
“Missed this.” He leans over and places a kiss to the skin of your shoulder, “Missed you. You’re so fucking beautiful, YN, you have no idea.” 
You lean forward and capture your lips again on his, slipping your arm around his shoulder so that you could run your nails down his back, scratching lightly as you did so. He took it upon himself to slip his hands between the two of you and unbutton your trousers, pulling them as well as your panties down your legs. You remove your arms from around his neck so that you can unclip your bra and pull it down from your torso and throw it down on the floor with the rest of your clothes. This was how you loved it to be with Harry. You just loved it when the two of you were together, alone. You guessed a part of it was because that was all you ever knew of it. 
Harry was the most loving and beautiful person you’d met in your life, and you would have loved to be able to show him off to the world as the one you loved but it just wasn’t that easy, but now you had the slight suspicion that you might be able to, and a part of you was excited about that. 
Your hands extend back out to him, pulling his body back down so that he was hovering above you again. He places a single kiss to your lips before moving his way down your body, placing kisses to your chest before moving down to the top of your breast and then down towards your nipples. He moves from each of them, one to the other, giving each of them the attention that he always does. You smile and thread your fingers through his hair, running through the curls that sat on top of his head. You used it to pull his head back up and place his lips on yours again. He responds by immediately kissing you back, and he wraps his arms around you so that he could flip you over, so that you’re resting above him now. 
You pulled back and rested your forehead against his, “You want me on top?” He nodded and you smiled, watching as he slipped his hands into each side of his joggers before pulling them down his legs, as well as his boxers, revealing his cock. You manoeuvre your body so that you’re further down the bed and so that your head is at the same level as him, and you lean forward, pressing a singular kiss to the tip. The sound that emits from his throat causes you to not hesitate in leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the top of him, starting to bob your head at a slow pace that you know is seemingly working because you can see his stomach moving up and down at a quick pace. Groans tumble from his lips, and you know that he’ll be getting close but before he can do anything else his hands press against your cheeks and lift you back up so that he can kiss you again. 
“Don’t you wanna. . . ?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing as you look at him. 
“No.” He shakes his head, placing his lips on yours, “I don’t want anything but to be inside of you right now.” 
You watched as he moved backwards slightly, so that you were close enough to the wall that you could rest of your hand against the wall as you manoeuvre yourself over him. His cock slips between your folds, and words can’t describe how wet you are for him, dripping all over him. You place your lips on his again and start to move yourself up and down his cock. The groan that escapes his lips is unlike any you’ve heard before, and you can’t help the smile that dances across your lips. 
“You’re drenched for me.” He groans against your lips, “Fuck, I wanna be inside of you.” 
“Be my guest.” You grin, and you watch as he leans down to grab his cock in his fist and you lift up so that you can line yourself up with him. You grasp his shoulder as you slowly sink down on him, the familiar feeling of having him fill you up overwhelming you. You had been together for three years and no matter how many times you had sex, it still manages to overwhelm you more than words can explain. You whimper when he’s fully inside of you, hesitating for a few minutes before you press your lips to his in another short kiss. 
“So fucking tight.” He mumbles, “Best fucking feeling in the world.” 
You tilt your head back slightly with a smile crossing your lips, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” 
He chuckles but that’s quickly shut off when you start to move, bouncing up and down on his cock. Your nails scrape down his back as you move, and you can’t help the moans of profanities that leave your lips as you move. You knew you were squeezing yourself around him, it was always something that you did that caused him to clench his jaw, just has he was doing now. You quickly found a rhythm, swirling your hips and grinding them in a way that had both of you moaning out each others names. 
You tilted your head back when he hit a spot deep inside of you that sent a wave of pleasure rushing over your body. He didn’t even hesitate to lean forward and capture your nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue over the bud slightly before moving to the other. He wrapped his arms around your body and slipped them down your back, all the way until he grabbed the flesh of your ass and squeezed. His movements were harsh, but they sent a wave of pleasure through your entire body. 
“YN.” You hum, leaning forward and resting your head on his shoulder, not stopping the movements on his hips, “You’re never going to leave me, are you?” 
You move so that you’re sat up straight and look at him, “Why would you think that? I’m not going to leave you, Harry, never.” 
“Good.” He leans forward and placing his lips back on yours. Your movements don’t slow down, if anything, they speed up and a string of moans escape your lips. His hands are all over your body, and his lips are too, and the the feeling starts to rush over you. You manage to keep your hips moving at the pace for a while before you slow down, and Harry notices this and quickly flips you both over. You lay on your back with your head on the pillow, and Harry doesn’t even hesitate when he slips back into you. His movements aren’t fast, but they’re certainly deep. 
“So fucking deep, Harry. Feels so fucking good.” Your words only seem to egg Harry on, especially the way your nails scratch down his back, “I’m so close.”
Harry was hitting just as deeply inside of you as he had been when you were riding him, and the feeling tips you closer and closer to the edge. Your hands drop down to your sides to grasp the duvet cover, and you turn your head so that you can muffle the obnoxiously loud moans that you couldn’t help leaving your lips. 
“I know you are baby.” One of his hands slips through yours, “Don’t hide them moans though, let me hear them, baby, you know what it does to me.” 
You move your head back so that he can hear your moans, and he smiles as he continues to fuck you. It doesn’t take long before he’s tipping you over the edge and your orgasm hits you. It’s one of the most powerful you’ve ever had, and you have every reason to believe that it’s because of how high emotions are between the two of you at the moment. It’s intense and you can feel it everywhere, all over your entire body and more so in the pit of your stomach. Harry didn’t stop his movements, not until he hit his high as well and spilled into you. You didn’t care about anything else in that moment though, because you felt closer to Harry now than you even had been, and you never wanted it to change again. 
Once he pulls out of you, a whimper immediately leaving your lips due to the emptiness you now feel. He quickly cleans you up, and then drops into the bed beside you, and you don’t even hesitate when you wrap your arm around his waist and rest your head upon his chest. When your eyes close, you let out a sigh of relief. 
“Harry.” He hums, and you can feel the vibration of his chest beneath your ear, “I’m sorry I told you to drive away.” 
“Don’t be.” He mumbles, his fingertips dancing along the skin of your arm, “We’ve all done thing that we aren’t proud of, but we have a new start. One where we don’t have to keep this a secret.” 
You nod and smile, still not opening your eyes, “I love you.” 
“Love you too, baby.” 
515 notes · View notes
atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 months ago
Draw your swords, pt. 22
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Summary: Things don’t go according to plan.
Warnings: angst, swearing, sexual abuse, violence, death
Draw your swords - Series Masterlist
Admiring her work, Genya clapped – for herself.
“Yes, another masterpiece”, Y/N giggles, clapping as well.
Turning around, Y/N slides her palms down the fabric. It’s soft, but firmly hugs her body like armor would. Black as Aleksander’s shadows, Y/N smiles at the plunging neckline and the golden embroidery giving it a perfect touch. The long sleeves are decorated with birds that serve as a bracelet around her wrists – flying freely, never caged. Just what Y/N always spoke of – no cage is acceptable, not even a gilded one.
“You’re incredibly talented”, Y/N lets out a satisfied sigh.
Nodding, Genya smirks. “I should be allowed to design keftas for the armies when you’re in charge.”
Glancing at her in the mirror, Y/N’s lips stretch in a small smile. “Of course. By tomorrow’s dawn, you’ll be free to choose what you want to do. If you want to stay here with David, leave with us or perhaps go and never look back, I’ll support you.”
Y/N’s solemn words brought tears to Genya’s eyes, somehow making her even more beautiful. Y/N can’t help but wonder if there’s a single flaw to her undeniably gorgeous friend.
Licking her lips, Genya takes Y/N’s hands in hers. “Thank you.”
“You’ll make me cry too”, Y/N giggles, trying to keep tears at bay.
“I mean it”, Genya sniffles. “I’ve never had true friends or family and you’ve become both. I’m glad you found someone like Kirigan. I know what he sees in you, because I see it too.”
Swallowing thickly, Y/N’s eyebrows knit. “What?”
Biting her lower lip, Genya looks down at their connected hands fondly. Pausing, she gives Y/N’s hands a tighter squeeze before locking her eyes on Y/N’s once more.
“Hope. And hope is a strong weapon in the right hands.”
Holding her breath, Y/N watched her distorted reflection in a broken mirror. She doesn’t remember breaking it, nor the moment shards embedded themselves in the palm of her right hand, but she can feel the warmth of her blood as it trails her skin on its gravitational trip to the ground.
Inhaling a shuddered breath, her lips part. Her memory is fuzzy, mind in a disarray. Furrowing her eyebrows, she’s trying to remember how she found herself there, retracing her steps.
When she woke up, she found an empty bed. Rubbing her temples, she sighed at the empty spot beside her. Aleksander’s side was made, unwrinkled and spotless. He didn’t sleep next to her, she concurred. Perhaps he didn’t sleep at all. Her clothes were changed, the dress Genya made gone and she couldn’t remember where.
Looking at a mirror, she stared at her reflection. She could hardly remember anything at all. In fact, the next thing she saw was darkness surrounding her, a broken mirror in front of her and a bleeding hand.
 “What happened?” Aleksander frowns, rushing to her side with eyes darker than ever before.
She didn’t hear him come inside, but she turned to him like a flower would turn to the sun.
Catching her hand in his bigger one to examine the cut, Aleksander’s eyebrows furrow. She’s studying the worry lines forming on his forehead, her eyes fixing on every crevice with devotion.
She can sense the change in him, the one she had forced to the surface. She can wield light, but she can call on his darkness too and while she needs him to exact her plans, she wished she never included him. He’s becoming darkness, the kind she’s not sure her light can penetrate and it frightens her greatly.
His free hand cups Y/N’s face, eyes searching for answers in a quiet desperation. She nods to reassure him, licking her lips. 
“It was an accident”, she lies. Admitting she’s losing control of her emotions due to all the stress is the last thing she can do – not just to him, but herself. She has to be stronger than this. There are too many people counting on her to withstand the challenges ahead.
Perhaps that’s the problem – she cannot admit she needs help. Her mind is in a disarray and she’s not entirely sure when it happened, but everything went dark and she can’t even catch a glimpse of light anymore.
“You’re lying.” Aleksander’s words sound as if they’ve been said through clenched teeth.
Staring up at him, her gaze collides with his only to have him kiss her voraciously, ravenously, until her wits whirl and she loses touch with reality. He knows his kiss can heal her, aid her in hiding from what ails her and while he’s happy to be a temporary fix, he knows it cannot last. He pecks her lips once more and then he draws back.
“Don’t lie to me”, he all but growls out. His voice brings chills, his hand tightening around her bleeding one brings a worried gleam in her eyes. She doesn’t flinch as his touch causes pain, she doesn’t blink when the shattered glass passes the wound along with a gush of blood the pressure incites.
“Are you alright?” She asks, refusing to buckle.
Swallowing thickly, he nods curtly. “You’re here.”
“That’s not an answer”, she raises a brow.
A heavy sigh passes his lips as he releases her, turning his back on her. Rubbing his scruffy beard, Aleksander looks at the darkness of the room she’s been standing in. Her memory of the previous night seems fragile, but his is unrelenting.
Some wounds need to bleed in order to heal.
They made a mistake and someone else paid the price.
He made a mistake he will never forget.
“Aleks”, she places her left hand on his shoulder, keeping the right one close to her chest. “Talk to me.”
Stepping before him, she frowns. Aleksander’s face remains emotionless, just as it was when they first met. The worry lines have gone, his skin smooth and his intimidating mask back on. The whole universe has schemed to help them find each other, to fall in love and live for one another. She can’t allow him to regress now.
“Don’t retreat in your mind”, she pleads.
She was always his whiskey on the rocks in a world drunk on cheap wine. He wishes more than anything to turn a blind eye to her pain, because she did suffer whenever he’d turn cold, but he can’t. She’d look at him and the ice melts instantaneously.
“I’m not the one repressing my emotions”, he glances at the door as if he’s hoping someone would rescue him from this conversation.
Knitting her eyebrows, she takes a step back. “What are you talking about? I’m always open about what I feel.”
Scoffing, he runs a hand through his hair. Disheveled, he shakes his head. Finding words to ease Y/N into it seems impossible – it’s barely been a week since she declared her intentions before two armies and she’s already slipping away from him.
“Y/N, what do you remember from last night?”
Swallowing thickly, she blinks. “I remember dancing with you.”
Smiling, Aleksander held his wife close. He enjoyed the envious glares from those who have collected around them. For once, he has something worthwhile, a precious gem no one else can touch. They could try, but it would be the last thing they do.
“You’ve got a wicked little glint in those eyes of yours, husband.”
Chuckling, he nods. “Just enjoying a most exquisite view.”
“Oh”, she scrunches her nose with a shy smile.
It’s impossible not to admire her in a black kefta with the most intricate golden neckline that dips between her breasts. Despite the dark cloth on her skin, she still looks angelic.
To imagine anything other than the two of them together would be madness. Maybe that’s God’s ineffable plan, pairing angels and demons to create balance on earth as it is in heaven and hell. Why else would a man like him be given a woman like her? He was in hell and she saved him, giving him a taste of what heaven feels like.
And she kissed him in front of everyone with a devastating sweetness, an innocence—as if this were the first time. Strong fingers curve around her jaw and warmth seeps into her bones, her skin, driving out death’s chill that remained after the illness that threatened her life.
His lips hold hers, reminding her, reassuring her she is still alive. Aleksander had reassured her by the strength of his arms surrounding her and the steady wilderness in his chest, beat of a heart that belonged to her.
She couldn’t help but wonder, how many hearts did he break before he chose hers to keep?
She was in his arms and whirling before she realized his intent. With arms like iron around her and long thighs parting hers, she immediately fell prey to a bundle of sensations, all distractingly pleasant. He waltzed as he did most things - masterfully, his skill so assured she didn’t have to do anything but glide and twirl, follow his lead.
“Are you nervous?” He asks, his face so near she could feel his breath across her lips.
“Is it unwise to say yes?”
Smiling, he brushes his nose against hers. “It’s perfectly sane. I’d be worried otherwise.”
Nodding, Aleksander glanced at her bleeding hand. “What else? What happened later?”
“We had dinner and then you left”, her frown deepens. “There was an emergency, they said.”
Aleksander regrets few things in his existence, one of his most prominent regrets is leaving, even for a short while that evening.
Coldness of the blade had drawn a gasp from Y/N’s lips. Her eyes widen in response as well. Her gaze flickers to Genya who had a matching dagger under her throat and an equally surprised look on her face.
“Now that your husband has departed, we can get on with the real reason this night was necessary”, Tsar stands, a cup of wine in his hand.
Gulping, Y/N narrows her eyes at the man she holds nothing but hate for. There are reasons she never spoke of, reason why she wanted him dead even Aleksander did not know. The last thing she expected was to be caught – it was supposed to be easy. He was supposed to drink his wine and Genya was supposed to dose it. Tsar was supposed to be weak, but awake long enough for Y/N to cut his throat.
“The Sun Summoner who decided to hide right under my nose.”
Y/N’s breath caught; her heart stuttered, then picked up its pace. She glances at other guests, all shocked, with fear in their eyes. Even though they are all loyal to Kirigan, she knows none of them would dare make a move. One wrongly taken breath could kill her or Genya and both options are unacceptable.
“Now, why would you hide something like that from your Tsar?”
He walks over to her side, signaling the guard to force her to stand. Once next to her, he wraps an arm around her carelessly. The guard rounds her, the tip of the knife drawing blood as he stops in front of her.
Gnawing on her cheek, Y/N’s trying to restrain herself from using her power before freeing Genya first. So, instead of doing anything, Y/N averts her gaze to the ground instead.
“Why would you not want to be one of my Grisha?”
Nostrils flaring, she wanted to remind him he’s human, that Aleksander leads Grisha. She’s choking on words she wants to say as his hand cups her breast and bile rises at the back of her throat.
“I’m willing to let you go”, he says slyly, his raw voice brutal against her ear. Disgusted by his proximity, she wishes to struggle, but the knife at her throat sobered her rage filled mind.
Using her power to blind them could startle the guards into killing them, but doing nothing is leaving them to Tsar’s mercy.
“Your demon husband isn’t here to save you”, his tongue brushes her earlobe. “I can be persuaded to have these daggers lowered.” He slides his hand down her thigh. His breath smells of cigarettes and alcohol is overwhelming her senses, forcing her to hold back on gagging as nauseating swirls begin to dance in her stomach.
“I’m a married woman”, she speaks through gritted teeth. It’s impossible to ignore the roaming hands of the Tsar as he nears where only Aleksander ventured before.
“You’re a beautiful woman, loyal. I appreciate beauty, admire loyalty. The latter one will kill you. Not tonight, though. I’m not known to be a wasteful man.” he sneers in her ear as he takes a step back.
“Why not?” She’s stubborn and proud and incredibly obstinate. She’s giving him every reason to kill her and it would rattle Aleksander to the core if he were by her side. Y/N is reckless. So damn reckless and careless, as if she doesn’t care for life at all.
If Aleksander was with her, he’d shake his head in disappointment, wishing she would shut up. He’d accuse her of wishing for death.
“Because I want to see your beautiful face when I bring you your husband’s head before I fuck you on top of his corpse.” Tsar sneered once more.
In a subconscious gesture of disgust her nose wrinkles as he draws his head back.
Looking at the door, she notices the shadows forming out of thin air and she can’t help but smirk.
“Or maybe he’ll bring me yours.”
Blinking fast, she wrapped her arms around her middle. “How did he know?” Her voice is shaky, taken with anxiety he never wished her to experience. He swore to protect her and he fails her over and over.
He promised the same to Genya and he couldn’t keep his promise. When he learned of what the emperor did to his Grisha, the Darkling wanted to kill the man. His rage was quickly quenched by the Tsar’s cruelty. He executed several Grisha women before the Darkling, saying how he was in short supply of women and Genya would have to do. It was made clear any attempt to help her would lead to more deaths, Genya’s included.
Sometimes he wishes he did try because death would have been kinder than what Genya’s been living with. He’s the strongest Grisha in existence and he still can’t protect anyone.
“I thought everyone was loyal to us”, Y/N chokes back a sob.
“A few human spies placed in the Palace overheard things they shouldn’t have.”
She raises her hand up to candlelight, watching her wound. Biting down on her lower lip mercilessly, she feels her insides shake as she remembers the blood on her hands from the night before.
“I was reckless”, she breathes out.
“Not so scary now, are you Darkling?” The mocking tone of Tsar’s words isn’t lost on Y/N as her eyes are glued to Aleksander whose glare made her feel as if earth shifted beneath her feet.
She felt numb as tears collected in her eyes. Last time she felt this helpless, this useless, she swore she’d rather die than ever allow anyone make her feel this way again. So, she pushed her head back full force, feeling the pain as it collides with her assailant’s nose.
Good, she thought. A broken nose would be an improvement to the emperor’s ugly face.
Narrowing her eyes, she grabs the guard’s wrist, preventing him from using the knife on her. She brings her knee up, kicking the guard between his legs. Genya follows her lead, fighting for her life as well.
Sinking the blade in the guard’s throat, Y/N’s heaving, shaking violently. He’s lying on the ground, motionless with blood spurting from his mouth and throat, bleeding in pulses that follow his dying heart.
Glancing at the emperor, she noticed shadows engulfing him – her husband would finish what she always wanted to do, but there’s someone more dear to her heart that needs her.
Turning to help Genya, her lips part.
She never understood how books spoke of time standing still, as if earth is in shock and needs a moment to accept what’s happened.
She understood now.
Wide eyed, her heart in her throat, Y/N croaks. “Genya?”
Collapsing to her knees as shadows surround her, Y/N’s mind is shattering as she shakes Genya. She can see the blood pooling from her chest. Covering the bleeding wound with trembling hands to stop the bleeding, Y/N’s lips quiver as Genya manages to open her eyes.
“You’re safe”, Genya smiles meekly. Seeing the darkness dim the light, even Genya knew Kirigan returned in time to kill the Tsar and all those who would stand with him.
“I”, Y/N’s lips quiver. “I killed you.”
Shaking her head, she looks at Y/N. Her eyes hold no malice, no want for vengeance. She’s at peace with her fate.
“You saved me”, she whispers.
A tear falls to Genya’s cheek, sliding down to her auburn hair. Y/N’s crying, her vision blurring. “A healer can help”, she gasps before screaming. “HEALER!”
“Sister”, Genya lets out a shuddered breath. “Thank you.”
Shaking her head, Y/N feels a hand on her shoulder. She hears Aleksander’s voice as he calls for healers, but she can focus only on Genya as her gaze fixes on the ceiling.
Leaning her forehead on Genya’s, Y/N can feel her pulse weaken under her fingertips. Y/N’s wailing scream had been the last thing Genya heard.
Shaking with a hurricane of emotions, Y/N looked down at her bloodied hands. The crimson color agitates her, but it’s not just her hands that are covered in blood – it’s everywhere, surrounding her.
A river of blood – she thinks.
Staring blankly, Y/N found herself pulled into a warm embrace.
Genya called her sister and she was. In a way, she was more family than her own family ever was. She lost more than just a friend, she lost the most loyal confidant, the one person she could count on since before Aleksander fell in love with her.
Revealing her secret could be deadly, Y/N is aware, but she has faith that Genya would keep it. She can’t do this alone, she’ll need help and Genya has every reason to support her.
Glancing over her shoulder, Genya’s eyes narrowed at Y/N who felt genuine, more than anyone had been since the day she arrived in the Palace. Despite the initial mistrust, Genya nods.
“It might be better if I show you”, a shaky sigh passes Y/N lips as she holds her hands together. Closing her eyes, she draws a deep breath. She doesn’t use her ability as often as she should and it’s weakened her before. Her mother always reminded her Grisha need their power as much as they need the air they breathe – without it, they die.
Opening her eyes, Y/N’s focus shifts. Drawing power from the sunny day outside the window, a small ball of light forms between her parted palms.
Genya gasps loudly, a hand covering her mouth as she stares at Y/N in shock.
“You’re the Sun Summoner?” She whisper shouts. Glancing at the door behind them, she rushes to Y/N. Clasping Y/N’s hands back together, the ball of light is extinguished. “No one can know.”
“You’ll help me?” Y/N raised a brow, hoping for an affirmative answer.
Turning on her heel, Genya paced the room.
“I need allies”, Y/N continues. “I chose you because I believe you and I are kindred spirits, both forced into unwilling arrangements with powerful men.”
Pausing, Genya’s eyes fix on hers. “Kirigan isn’t like the emperor.”
Snorting, Y/N nods. “Well, it sure feels like he is.”
“He would help you”, Genya insists, but Y/N shakes her head.
“I don’t trust him”, she speaks through gritted teeth. The thought of that man is enough to make her insides turn. “I trust you”, she softens.
Licking her lips, Genya runs a hand through her long, auburn locks. “What do you need me to do?”
She gained Genya’s allegiance that day, but now? She had to say goodbye for the last time and she doesn’t know how.
She wonders if this is it what if feels like to break, to watch the blood on your hands and see the light dying in your sister’s eyes.
What’s the point of wielding light if she can’t bring back Genya’s?
What is the point of being the chosen one if all it will bring is loss and heartbreak?
“I killed her”, Y/N croaks. Her body is shaking, her lips quivering as Aleksander holds onto her.
He kisses her and the world falls away like it always does. It is slow and soft, comforting in ways that no words can ever be. His hand rests below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingle. He tastes the tears in their kiss, her inescapable release. She runs her fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there is no space left between them and she can feel the beating of his heart against her chest. And that heart beats for her and her alone.
She pulls away, her tears running freely down her cheeks. “Is he dead?”
Nodding, Aleksander confirms. He made sure of it and Y/N even spat on his body after. Trauma of Genya’s loss had left her with selective memory and while he drew the vital ones to the surface, he won’t force anymore on her.
“Good”, she sniffles.
Clearing her throat, she swipes the back of her hand under her nose. “We need to head to the Fold now.”
“You need to slow down and grieve”, he frowns.
Standing, she shakes her head. “Genya would want me to keep going. No amount of tears can bring her back, but I can make her death worthwhile.” She can feel tears prick at her eyes as her hands begin to shake, but she has no time to mourn.
Standing too, he looks down at her - then steps closer, towering over her. He takes another step; eyes locked on hers. She halts, raising her hands and pushing against his chest. “Stop that! You’re deliberately trying to frighten me.”
“I’m not trying to frighten you, love”, he growls through clenched teeth. “I’m trying to intimidate you. There’s a difference. Now, stop being so damn stubborn for once in your life and just do as I say.”
“I can’t”, her voice breaks. “If I stop now, I won’t be able to get out of bed tomorrow!” Rubbing her temples, she huffs.
The hurt is like a spider’s web, intricate and strong. It will pass with time, the sun will regain its warmth, but the joy from her heart is gone. She does not wish cry for it makes her weak, she refuses to grieve for it means she had lost something she can never retrieve, yet she’s breaking and there’s no healer who can put her back together.
“You’re allowed to break too”, his voice is gentle, caring, too understanding for her to bear.
Unable to form words, Y/N closes her eyes as her face contorts. Her lips press together to hold in a sob and her head hurts from all the pressure building up in her attempt to stop herself from falling apart.
But she couldn’t. She found it far too difficult to remember how to smile, softly, contagiously as Genya once did. A poor attempt at a smile had stained her lips like blood, the same blood she could taste as she bit her tongue hard to keep herself from screaming.
“Did you know my mother was once in this Palace?”
Raising his brows, he shakes his head slightly. Y/N rarely spoke of her mother, of her family in general. He never wanted to pressure her into revealing what might bring her pain. If anyone knows how painful it is to look back to what’s passed, it’s Aleksander.
“She was born here, to a Grisha who was once much like Genya.” Swallowing thickly, her eyes flicker to the dancing flame of a candle burning by the bed. “My mother was Inferni, daughter of the Tsar who never claimed her as his kin.”
Staring at his wife, Aleksander knew speaking now would be unwise. For once, she is sharing what’s weighing her mind and he wanted to know her history – to know why she’s so determined to destroy the world they’re living in.
He wants to hear her story, her burden and help her carry it so she doesn’t crumble under all the weight. He will never let her crumble for his shoulders are strong enough to carry her pain too.
“She escaped the Palace when the emperor decided my grandmother was no longer young and beautiful. He killed her and he would have killed my mother too if she had not found a man who helped her onto a sandskiff.”
A ghost of a smile appears on her lips, “She told me she had never seen a man more predisposed to darkness with such a kind heart.” Placing her hand over his chest, her gaze follows her hand. “Sometimes I wonder who that man was.”
Was it you, she wants to ask. Were you the one who saved her?
But she doesn’t.
Licking his lips, he watches the shadow her eyelashes cast on her cheeks.
“She told Zlatan we’d be a match”, her eyes meet his. “I don’t think this was ever meant to be a marriage of convenience.”
“If anything, it was a marriage of inconvenience”, he teases and she rolls her eyes as he expected her to.
“I think she knew”, Y/N licks her lips. “I didn’t understand before, she knew we’d be perfect together. I wish I could thank her.”
Leaning his forehead against hers, he closes his eyes. “Me too. She gave me something I never thought I’d have.” Pecking Y/N’s lips, he draws back. “Hope and love all in a maddening woman I’d never want to live without.”
A shaky sigh passes her lips. “Do you think I can live as long as you?”
“I refuse to believe otherwise.”
Swallowing thickly, she nods. “Can we be killed? Truly? Because I’ve been on the brink of death twice now and I’m still breathing, but Genya”, she pauses, unable to continue. Tears flood her eyes as she looks away.
Taking her chin, Aleksander tilts her head up. His dark gaze meets her eyes glistening with tears. “Don’t hide from me. Share your pain with me.”
“She called me sister”, Y/N’s lips part as a strangled cry passes them, bringing more pain. Her chest aches as if a hand wrapped around her heart, squeezing it in a manner which would prevent it from ever beating right again.
Taking her in his arms, Aleksander sits back on the bed. He cradles her, running his fingers through her hair as she sobs into his chest. Her break is desolating his soul, his tears flowing as well.
The pain of her loss is increasing in waves, small lulls giving false hope of an end. Each peak robs her of her ability to speak, her blood feels like acid intent on destroying her from the inside out.
She lets out a cry so loud that his arms tighten around her to a point where his embrace brings her pain.
She welcomes it.
A/N - Siri, stream Fleurie - Hurricane. I’m still not quite happy with this part, mostly because I wanted to add more stuff that would require so many warnings. I’ve made it longer than usual since I didn’t update last night, hope it? If that’s the right thing to say once you basically kill someone?
Tags: @bruxa0007​ @rangotangomango​ @kaitlyn2907​ @thestoryofmylife9​ @shelivesindaydreamswme​ @hxrgreeves​ @safetyhtom​ @kaqua​ @savannah-elliott​ @all-art-is-quite-useless​  @azure23x​ @girlmadeofavocados​ @ashdab2611​ @acciorudolphx​ @ladyblablabla​ @wckedheart​ @xceafh​ @sanna2020​ @tarkanelima-blog​ @takethee​ @mellifluous-cosmos​ @marvel-ousnesss​ @tea-effect​ @starlightofsolaria​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​ @blackbirddaredevil23​ @sarcastic-and-cool​ @slytherinsbiggestproblem​ @within-thehollowcrown​ @notthatchhavi​ @musicconversedance​ @freakytillthemoon​ @lgkoval​ @honeyofthegods​ @queenmalhinewahine​ @misselsbells06​ @whatthefluffrichard​ @aami98​ @britriestbr​ @itsfangirlmendes​ @padme-parker​ @readingsssssssss​ @runawayolives​ @thehighladyofasgard​ @emlynblack​ @keithseabrook27​ @dailydoseofchoices​ @deceivedeer​ @olympiacosplay​ @pansysgirlfriend​ @extrakyloren​ @daybleedsintonightfa11​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @weirdowithnobeardo​ @folkloresworld​ @remugoodgirl​ @yagorlemmalyn​ @gonehopelessgirl​ @fefethecoffeeaddict​ @naughtynecromancer​ @poison-of-the-ivie​ @strawb3rrydr3ss​ @supersouthy​ @theilliterateironman​ @evyiione​ @kimoranelson03​ @wizardwheezes​ @woodsabby6​ @liajiah​ @its-carlerrr​ @youcantbesirius​ @kykymyeon​ @ohdolans​ @dritantus​ @measshaw​ @tillytillytilda​ @severewobblerlightdragon​ @auggie2000​ @operation-spot​ @just-arandomwriter​ @justmesadgirl​ @aniia-x3​ @its-carlerrr​ @dark-night-sky-99​ @kipoturtle​ @aleksanderwh0r3​ @awesome-eccia​ @wnyyyy​ @agentstarkid​ @mackaywhore​ @yourfavoritefruitybitch​ @lokis-army-77​ @tomhollandisabae​​ @shadowsfawn​​ @partiesandblurrypolaroids​​ @cat-inthemoon​​ @0-artemis​​ @benbarnes-supremacy​​ @lovinghunty​​ @biblichorr​
Part 23
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missinghan · 2 months ago
your heart & your headache, too ⤖ lee minho
❖ genre : stray god (?) au; fluff; humor; angst; action
❖ word count : 9,6k.
❖ warning : swearing, mentions of violence, blood, injuries, stitches
❖ summary : a self-proclaimed god shows up at your door in the middle of the night for a place to stay. you let him and hope the unconventional encounter doesn’t become a regular thing. of course, it becomes a regular thing.
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❖ dedicated to @poutylino​ : happy birthday robi! i hope you’ll like this mess of a fic ♡
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There is a stranger in your living room.
There is a stranger in your living room.
There is—holy need to call the cops.
“Out of the way,” the stranger spats calmly. 
“Show me your face.”
He is unfortunately very good-looking; the kind of face that all beings envy for God only has one favorite and that’s him, the kind of face that makes the most expensive diamond look dull in comparison, the kind that screams ‘tougher in body and nobler in heart than any creature in the world’ like any novel’s protagonist. Oh yeah, did you mention that he has a really nice physique too?
“I said, move.” He stumbles forward, heavy and inconsistent breaths.
In any case, he’s someone you’ve never met before in your life. Therefore, your brain is overworking itself to figure out what the fuck is going on (as if it’s not overworked on a daily basis already). One moment you were minding your own business on the couch and stressing over your homework. The next, there’s an explosion of light and there he was. Meaning, this absolutely skeptical, worthy-of-being-reported man can’t just expect you to simply move.
“Last time I checked, this is my living room, which you’re not supposed to be in,” you tilt your head curiously at his silhouette being cast on the white wall. “You should move.”
Your gaze rolls upward again to meet his eyes. You think lack of sleep is really getting into your head because there are two golden orbs staring right back at you. He leans forward to pick up the butter knife on your coffee table, easily twirling the shiny piece of cutlery between his fingers. 
“Hey—!” An alarm finally goes off inside your head, high on sheer anxiety and panic. If you decided to do something rash, he might slice your throat in half.
“I’m just going to make it clear that I’m not responsible for what’s about to happen to your face,” he mumbles under his breath, staggering with difficult steps. His limbs are nearly immobile but are being forced to drag a heavy body across your tiled floor. Two trails of crimson become more visible as he walks out of the shadow. Another alarm shakes your senses, telling you that the man can collapse any second now.
Just then, a linear light emerges into your view, metal flies past your head and pierces the bookcase behind your back. A shaky breath. With ineffable terror, you behold an ominous creature in which shadows cling to its hellish movements. The horror struggles and emits an unholy screech against the butter knife, gleaming its bat-like teeth at you before disintegrating into thin air. 
You drop to your knees, mouth gape open, “I’m going insane. I’m going insane. I’m going insa—”
A loud thud startles your train of thought. “Holy shit!”
Your head whips around upon the sound only to witness the stranger’s reclined figure on your floor. His brows are knitted tightly together as his palm hugs the side of his shoulder. You give the air a faint sniff once you shuffle close enough and realize how much he’s bleeding. Who…hurt him?
Maybe getting murdered is easier than having to deal with this, whatever the fuck that just happened. 
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Surprisingly, it takes him thirty minutes to wake up and two minutes to say his name as you’re walking back and forth in your living room like a madwoman, desperate for a solution and a conviction that everything was not a fucked up nightmare. You are, at some point, this close to taking him to a hospital but looking at him up close helps you understand that the exhaustion his body is bearing clearly goes beyond humans’ physical abilities. Minho looks tired of the world for having to carry around baggage that’s too heavy for himself. Somehow, you feel like you’re part of the baggage itself.
However, your empathy quickly evaporates when you walk out of your bathroom and see the fool roaming your house without a shred of care for the universe. Yes, he’s still bleeding. And yes, he doesn’t look concerned. You’re in serious need of moral support right now but your friends all have questionable morale. 
Minho pauses at the blinking laptop on your table with a cup of hot tea in his hands, “Hmm? So you’re teaching at a university this young? Impressive. You must be pretty smart.”
“I’m an underpaid, overworked, minimum-wage TA,” you toss him your best passive-aggressive glare and settle on your couch with a first aid kit, “Come here. Sit.”
Which is how you end up in your conveniently bloodied living room at half-past twelve with a man who can easily bleed out to his demise. To your dismay, he follows your ushering without protest, watching you with the attentiveness of a worn-out hawk. You look at him once his legs are crossed obediently, taking in the scattered cuts on his face and the dirty white shirt over his black tank top. Curiosity traces your features at the bandages around his neck and wrists, and he looks back.
“I can’t believe you’re ordering a god around. I’m not a dog.” Minho notices where your gaze lingers and clears his throat. 
You furrow your brows, reasonably unimpressed, “Really? You almost killed me and now you’re telling me this? Do you hear yourself? How is this going to make my life any easier?” How are you supposed to comfort people when they break into your house again? You stitch them up while trying to avoid looking them in the eye? Maybe making them a hot drink? And letting them stay the night, too?
You’re not necessarily a ‘people person’. Thinking about it gives you hives.
“Sarcasm? That’s all you’ve got?” 
“Get used to it,” you open your mouth when the alcohol spray hits his wound, prompting a small hiss of discomfort. “You’re telling me that you’re a god yet you used my freaking butter knife to kill...”
“A curse,” Minho says between gritted teeth as you clean up his cut. “And I grabbed your knife because one, it was the only sharp object in reach, and two, I lost my sword.”
A sword, huh. Why would people own a sword these days? You hope his sword isn’t a real one because dying by a sword seems so unnecessarily dramatic. It’d feel like your life is a fantasy novel and you’ve stupidly offended someone’s honor. Is he a cosplayer of some sort? So you’re patching up a cosplayer at one in the morning. A cosplayer that apparently materializes out of thin air. How the fuck are cosplayers so advanced these days? 
“...A curse?”
“Curses are born from humans’ negative emotions. It is my job to exorcise them before they can grow into full-fledged demons,” Minho explains briefly while glancing around your apartment like a cautious cat. 
You have a feeling that you’re slowly comprehending the situation even though his claims make no feasible sense. “Okay, and how did you get hurt?”
“I got hit by a truck while trying to save a puppy on the streets.” And he just brings you back to square one. Even so, someone who’s willing to get hit by a truck for a puppy can’t be a psychotic serial killer. 
You open your mouth and close it. The process repeats about five times before you realize how much you’re acting like an absolute fool. For the first time in your life, you’d rather cry over midterms instead of whatever this is. Because the thing is you’re confident in your ability to read in between the lines, seeing through people’s deception and hidden secrets. Even so, you cannot decipher the truth that he’s carrying.
“...You’re a god yet you let a truck run you over?”
There’s a scowl on his face now. “I lost my sword.”
You breathe. And you breathe again. “You’d better connect the dots for me before I lose my mind and set someone’s house on fire.”
The scowl deepens, “Yes, gods don’t usually get hit by vehicles. But for me, I can’t deliberately walk through physical materials unless I have my sword.”
“Seems legit. I wish the police were still open at this hour,” you shrug and smile fakely, holding up a syringe in front of his nose. 
Minho looks mortified, which is rich coming from a self-proclaimed god that just exorcised a curse out of your dirt-broke apartment. “Wait! Wait! What do you think you’re doing?!” His body shuffles away in sheer fright like a toddler getting vaccinated for the first time. You think you might feel bad for laughing. 
“I’m going to give you an injection. Give me your arm.”
“Yeah, your spidey senses are tingling perfectly, Peter Parker,” he sneers like a possessed cat, an accusing finger pointing at the clear substance. Wow, allegedly a god can make pop culture references, too. “What the fuck is that?”
You raise an eyebrow at his untrusting eyes, “Anesthesia so you don’t cry like a little bitch when I stitch you up.”
Minho looks more concerned than you are right now which is extremely unfair, by the way. “Stitches? You know how to do that?”
“No, but I have a YouTube tutorial from a real doctor if that makes you feel better.”
His lips twitch after a long beat of silence. “....Can I have something stronger than tea? Vodka, maybe?”
It’s truly unfortunate for him. You don’t own a single bottle of liquor.
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Three days after your unconventional encounter with a god, there comes another one. This one, however, does not occur at your place.
“Thank you for looking after Hyunjin on such short notice, Y/N.” Mrs.Hwang gives you a small smile with her purse over her shoulder and her husband ushers her to get into the car from the front gate. “He is upset because our puppy has gone missing for a few days now but I’m sure he’ll behave. His bedtime is at nine and we’ll be back at twelve-ish or so.”
“It’s no trouble. Mrs. Lee is out of town tonight so she said I could bring Felix over,” you smile back tiredly when the freckled kid hides behind your leg since Hyunjin is too busy staring daggers at him. “You guys go have fun.”
“No sweets before bed, okay!”
Hyunjin’s parents quickly pull out of the driveway when you lock the door and lead the two children into the backyard. A wave of exhaustion washes over your full mind. You have a class to teach tomorrow with a review quiz and now you have to babysit another kid?
“He’s so short,” Hyunjin speaks up shamelessly, sitting cross-legged on the wooden porch as Felix clings to your arm. The kid’s eyes are wide and dark in curiosity as he scans the foreign surroundings. This makes you acknowledge how his parents are always busy and often leave him at daycare overtime. 
“He’s like five years old, Hyunjin. You’re already nine,” you pat Felix’s head as a consent signal for him to play around in the backyard. “And can you stop glaring at him like he’s eaten all of your cheesecakes, please?”
A pout forms on his lips. “I lost Kkami,” he looks down at his feet sullenly. “Mom said she already put out flyers and online posts but...what if he’s not coming back?”
You blink once, twice, and thrice. Oh goodness, why did you agree to be a babysitter when you’re bad at comforting people? 
“I’m sure someone will find Kkami and bring him back,” you try to reassure him with a hand on his shoulder; being a hypocrite isn’t your thing but there’s nothing else you can give him right now other than false hope. “For the time being, why don’t you hang out with Felix?” 
At this point, Hyunjin is already too seasoned to take the bait. He side-eyes Felix to examine his chubby face, weirdly focused. It’s like you thought—he has never been around anyone else his age because he’s homeschooled, much less someone this much younger than him. 
“How?” Hyunjin tilts his head at you, eyes sparkling. It’s kinda sad but fucking adorable. You get why people are soft for the little brats now. They’re cute, just lack the ability to shut up at the right time. 
“You kids can play whatever as long as I can see you. Just don’t make him dizzy, he’ll barf.”
Felix seems to have eavesdropped on your conversation and is now staring up at you from the lower ground. “Uhm, can we play hide and seek?”
“Superb idea, Felix,” Hyunjin cracks a wide grin at that. Surprise surprise, the kid actually has some range. 
“What’s ‘superb’?” The freckled boy scratches his cheek in confusion. 
Hyunjin tries to reply with expressive hands, “It’s uh, it's great!”
“What’s great?”
“What’s ‘superb’?”
…This is going to take a while, isn’t it?
All things concluded, it takes Felix ten minutes to stop asking what ‘superb’ means and another hour for you to tuck both of them into bed. Those brats really had the audacity to fall asleep next to each other in the utility closet in the middle of the game. After that, a much-needed silence goes on for about twenty minutes until a man kicks his way in through the living room. 
“There is such a thing as doors,” you tell him, barely glancing up from the book that you’re reading. 
“But that’s boring.” It’s not the voice that you have been expecting. Well, you shouldn’t be so surprised anymore. 
“You’re paying to fix the window or I’m calling the cops.” 
You finally decide to look up at the owner of the voice and to your dismay, it isn’t the self-proclaimed god you’re familiar with. He’s also very good-looking but his energy seems more careless and free-spirited than Minho. There’s a red pair of headphones around his neck, a flannel over a loose shirt with some jeans. 
Totally normal. He can even pass as a harmless high school student. Unfortunately, your perception of people’s clothing has changed since the day Minho broke into your apartment. 
“My name is Han Jisung,” he introduces himself and snaps his fingers as the shattered shards of glass easily piece themselves back together. He’s lucky that the kids are heavy sleepers. “And I’m assuming you’re the girl that Minho talked about.. So where is he?”
Your eyebrow twitches in disbelief. “How would I know?”
“He told me to meet up here though,” Jisung rubs the back of his neck sheepishly as if he’s slowly taking in the fact that you don’t know him and he doesn’t know you either. So what, is he here to exorcise another curse? If that’s the case, you’d better put Mrs. Hwang’s number on standby in case her house collapses or something. 
The brunet boy grumbles, as he should, “What’s taking that fucking idiot so long?”
On cue, there’s another explosion of light, the same one that nearly blinded you three days ago. And there stands Minho in all his glory of...dirt and grass and...why is there a puppy in his arms?
“Jisung, I think I already taught you how to knock and greet people properly.” 
You scowl at him, “Oh, look who’s talking. I don’t think light counts as a proper way to greet people.”
“She has a point,” Jisung shrugs. 
Minho has an expression that screams betrayal and you feel bad for almost laughing. “You’re supposed to be on your father’s side.” 
You swear, Jisung looks like he’s about to throw up. “You’re not my father!”
“I created you! You exist because of me! You literally came from my spine, you stupid bird!”
“I reject your influence.”
“That would mean suicide.”
“This is no way to treat your son.”
“Do not use that tone with me! The amount of disrespect—do you think I would ever talk to my father that way?! I don’t think so!”
“Why you always gotta harsh my mellow, old man?”
Lost in incoherent thoughts, you can barely comprehend their conversation. But the realization hits you that 1) Hyunjin’s parents are almost home, 2) the kids are still asleep upstairs, 3) there are two morons spatting nonsense at each other in the Hwangs’ living room. 
“Shut the fuck up! Both of you! Just shut up! Are you here just to uppercut each other’s ego or are you going to give me an exorcism? What the absolute fuck?!” Your patience snaps and the two of them pause, simultaneously turning their heads to stare at you like you’re batshit crazy. Guess whose fault is that? “Thank you. Important question, by the way, whose dog is that? I’ll smack you if it dirties the carpet.”
Minho frowns down at the puppy wrapped in his white shirt like a burrito. His hair is entangled in leaves and short branches while the little demon is very intent on licking his bruised cheek. For some reason, you grin like a sadist at the discomfort on his face. 
“It’s the kid’s puppy. I think his name was Kkami or something. I saw flyers all over Gangnam,” he replies flatly as if his brain is recalling the horrendous moments of chasing the dog in the middle of a cramped highway. “Did you know that he’s been staying up every night crying about this mop of furry ball, I could hardly sleep. How old is he? Five?”
You hold back a small smirk. “He’s nine, actually.” 
“Great, I still don’t know anything about kids.”
“You know what, kindly leave the dog and get out.”
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You’re really lucky that Hyunjin’s parents came back before twelve because the last thing you need right now is having an earful of a toddler’s unholy, overjoyed screeches when his lost puppy is back home in one piece. Not to mention, they told you to go home early and let them look after Felix until his mom comes back tomorrow. Mrs. Hwang and her are best friends either way.
Wait, back it up a little. Did you just say that you’re lucky?
No, you take that back. Because Minho is currently trailing after you under the faint downpour, his white shirt pathetically draped over his mop of hair as the rain gradually wets the fabric. Meanwhile, Jisung walks behind him with two hands propped on his nape like he’s in his element. He’s even humming a tune of some sort. You’re about to get lost in the melody because his voice is really nice until you realize that it’s clearly not okay for outsiders to witness....whatever this is.
“Why the hell are you following me?” 
Minho answers honestly, “I need the job.”
“What job?”
He suppresses a groan, “You know—!”
“Pfff, hold on.” You pull your steps to a halt when a light bulb goes off. “Really? You’re telling me that you want to babysit Hyunjin?”
A shrug leaves his shoulders like it’s no big deal. “Yeah, I need the money.”
“Why? Aren’t you a god?” You make a face at him as you turn around, leaning your umbrella forward enough to cover his head. The rain is getting heavier, you should get to the bus stop soon because you’re not sure when the latest ride is.
Jisung declares from the back like that one nosy kid in class in which nobody ever asks for his opinions, “He’s broke and needs to eat food or else he’ll die.”
“What about you? Don’t you need to eat?” The brunet boy shakes his head. Jisung can easily pass as the boy-next-door type the more you look at him. “And he called himself your father—I’m sorry I’m just confused with this relationship. What are you? His sidekick slash adoptive child?”
Although Minho hates the fact that Jisung takes his daily torment as a form of entertainment, no one gets to talk shit about him. Come on, he does have some kind of parental dignity as a god. “He’s my sacred sword.”
“Nothing shocks me at this point,” you blink only once this time because you’re adapting to his shit way too quickly. “Yeah, I don’t get it. How does that work?”
“Jisung is a descendant of the vermilion bird. Their fire is known to possess an extremely strong anti-evil property. So I hatched him from an egg and extracted his soul into a blade.”
“You’re leaving out the fun part,” Jisung strides up to Minho’s side and clears his throat like he’s about to announce something important. “Before I became a blade, they planted my soul in his spine, and—”
Instantly, Minho slaps a hand over his mouth, hard enough to make him stagger backward and yelp aloud like a child throwing their usual tantrum. Remember what you said ten seconds ago? About the whole ‘nothing can shock you anymore’ statement? Yeah, you take that back too. 
“Okay, okay,” you hold out a hand, “It’s too early for that, too early.”
“Listen, I’d be as shocked as you are if I weren’t eight hundred years old,” Minho presses a palm to his wrinkled forehead, “But I just need the job. Can’t you just tell the kid’s parents that I’m the one who found Kkami? It’d be easier to convince them if it’s coming from the both of us.”
“And why should I help you? I can’t just hand over a toddler to someone who looks like he’s been homeless for months.”
“It’s technically been a year,” Jisung tacks on unhelpfully. 
Minho roughly pulls the white shirt off his head and runs a hand through his hair. His eyes screw close for a moment as he exhales through his nose. He can swear he catches you giggling soundlessly but by the time his eyes open again your face is as blank as a white sheet of paper. “Hey, I think we’re backtracking a little here. Hello? Do you want me to starve to death so you can have an easy way out?”
“It’s not the worst way out. I can take it,” Jisung snickers and you think Minho is about to choose violence.
Instead, he turns to you. His cold hands grab yours like a man lost at sea who just finds his only lighthouse. “Y/N, come on. I exorcised a curse from your home the other day. Can’t you at least do me this favor?” His voice is so delicate that you’re afraid you might break him if you let go, as thin as a blade of grass and with as much emotion as human bodies have water. It pulls at a string in your rib cage and melts you at the same time. 
But you’re also a sadist. “Well, I patched you up the same exact night.”
Minho can see the corner of your lips curling up. Great, now there’s another being who gets some sort of sick, twisted amusement out of tormenting him, he just knows it.
“Do me another favor and I’ll repay you. I’m the type of person who can’t stand owing anyone a single thing.”
He huffs in disbelief, “What? Seriously? All I want is to provide that lonely kid some company. Isn’t he an only child? And he’s homeschooled, too, right? I am shocked and appalled that you’re not letting a god do any good deeds.” 
“Really? You care that much, huh?” Your expression morphs into something unreadable. “What’s his name, then?”
There’s a fine line between being boldly stupid and stupidly bold. You don’t think a god would ever be desperate to the point of landing right on that thread. “I’m sorry, what?”
Yeah, no. You’re not playing his game. “The kid that you’re just dying to look after. I’m asking you to tell me his name. What-is-it?”
The internal turmoil of confusion going off in his eyes is so fucking clear that you nearly wheeze. “Well, uh, you know. It’s uh, it starts—starts with an ‘A’,” he raises his index finger expectantly.
You crack a smile while shrugging off your jacket, “H.”
“Right, ‘H’! That’s close. I mean, they’re basically neighbors. You can at least understand my mistake!”
“Of course,” you roll your eyes to the moon. “It’s Hyunjin.”
Finally, Minho gives up and throws his hands into the air, “Okay, fine! I’m in it for the money! And spare me, Wonder Woman, you’re not babysitting those little demons for free either.”
You purse your lips before dropping your jacket over his head. “Hey, at least I pretend to be nice to people.”
“Yeah, whatever, uh—Wait, pretend?”
“Minho!” Jisung shouts, eyes alarmed.
A pitch-black spike tears through air in a linear movement. Minho’s body immediately twitches into motion like second nature. Faster than a lightning bolt, a hand covers your head while the other around the small of your back. Your head buzzes with discomfort at the faint whiplash and your senses settle in when droplets gradually wet your skin. 
“Stay back! It’s not a curse!” Minho snaps in a firm tone and shoves you away, leaving you flabbergasted as Jisung catches you by the shoulders. 
Once again, you behold a hellish being with the black abomination of head and limbs that are not those of any creatures wrought by God. This horror seems to have a brighter mind of its own compared to the one in your apartment. It slowly rises to the height of a tall man, shadows moving and swaying with the manners of a great serpent. The round black head, with no visible ears or hair, leans to the side with eyes glowing hotly as coals. 
Another spike shoots this way with twice the speed and accuracy from before. Minho manages to lean to the side but pauses halfway, reaching out to catch it bare-handed. The sharp object sizzles against his skin, forcing him to bite down on his lips to hold back a wince. I really shouldn’t be touching these things directly, he curses inwardly and drops it to the ground, completely unaware that the bandages on his neck are torn.
Minho blinks and suddenly the creature is baring its bat-like teeth right before his nose, looming over him as if threatening to swallow him whole. His pupils dilate in a slight panic. Half a second and he’s over the shadow in the air to throw out a precise ax kick. It simply bursts at the contact, letting his foot slam violently into concrete, leaving evident cracks. Physical attacks don’t work on this kind, he figures as much.
“Han! Come here!”
Jisung lets go of your arms as his body disintegrates into a streak of light and materializes into another form once he touches Minho’s fingers. A black blade gleams dangerously under the dim moonlight and the demon visibly shrinks at the sudden presence. 
Somehow, it opens its mouth to speak in a gibberish manner, “This is already the third time you’ve been banished from Heaven. The cursed shackles on your body speak for themselves. What’s the point in executing curses and demons anymore?”
Minho exhales calmly and turns around to wield his sword. The blade effortlessly cuts through the neck of another demon behind his back. His eyes are devoid of emotion when its head drops to the ground, immobile and unmoving. His breaths are growing heavier, his muscles trembling in pure adrenaline. “That isn’t for you to decide.” 
“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” The demon from earlier doesn’t back down and continues to taunt, “Of how many innocent lives had died by your hands? You slaughtered your own believers.”
“It doesn’t concern me.”
“You’re too easy. Fighting instead of worrying about that mortal.”
Minho’s vision begins to grow smudged and blurred from the adrenaline but his stubbornness manages to keep his eyes wide enough. 
The moment wind whistles past his ear, an invisible strike cuts through thin air in your direction. Minho turns half an inch, reaches out to the transparent stake and it digs deep into the flesh of his finger before erupting in vermilion flames. 
His foot stomps on concrete so harshly to the point that he can feel the ground shatter. His body moves at an inhuman speech, directly padding up against the creature of darkness. The blade in his hand switches between precise slashes and violent stabs with dexterity, drawing out countless streaks of light. His white shirt flutters in the wind and in the guise of his cold rage. 
You widen your eyes, not realizing that your knees are trembling. There’s a split second where his eyes meet yours. A deeply layered pain flashes in his eyes and a chill runs down your spine. With contradicting feelings, your soul shudders. 
The demon eventually gives out due to the horrendous amount of damages, tripping over itself onto the ground. Minho points his blazing sword directly at its worn-out neck and his voice twists gruesomely, “Who the fuck are you calling easy?” It doesn’t sound like a question, more like a threat. 
“Admit it. You aren’t meant to be a god,” the demon laughs, ugly and broken. “You can’t be one of them if you detest them.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s gods, humans, or demons. I detest them all equally.”
“Yet you’re still handicapping yourself to protect all these mortals.”
“I think you’re wasting your breath.” Minho’s brows are crumpled, his shoulders tense and his throat jumps as he swallows, “I’ll be sending you to join your friend soon.”
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Minho’s fist curls up and comes in contact with the brick wall roughly. It does nothing to release his inner turmoil. He squeezes the hilt of his sword and ignores Jisung’s shouts at the back of his mind. 
His features morph into a scowl as his temple aches with every word of the demon that he can recall. Allegedly, moving on in this state was a grave mistake. Trying to put his middle finger up against Heaven’s regulations wasn’t something someone as smart as him shouldn’t have screwed around with. 
“It’s not like I can die either. What the fuck,” Minho murmurs to himself, leaning back against bricks and cement. His eyelids are heavy, his breath frozen, shoulders weighed down by an invisible force. 
His dark lashes flutter up to stare at the falling snow, feeling their little frostbites against his chilling skin, and his eyes momentarily close for some sort of relief. 
Minho simply needs to do his job properly, they say. All beings are equal, they say. 
So who is he, when he doesn’t do his job?
And who is he, to experience the excruciating throb like it’s a recurring lucid dream that he can never escape from?
Pain is always temporary. Minho knows exactly how it looks like, how it tastes, and how it pulses through his hollow bones. He can grit his teeth to endure. He used to do it all the time. But it’s the dull-phantom agony of a hundred swords piercing his chest and the neglect he’s grown numb to that still haunt him every night. 
Just because he is immortal, they rammed their merciless blades through his body and drove their unsparing words into his skull. Over and over again. He couldn’t fight back, that would mean going against the rules. 
They broke him. 
Hurt him. 
Again. And again. And again. 
He let them. 
Until the infinite sky is painted the same shade of crimson as his two hands. Until the cursed shackles trace the lines of his wrists and neck like an unwanted scar. The chains imprinted on his skin have bound his physical abilities to those of a mere earthling for centuries now and almost every night he wants to cry out to someone. 
He wants to be smaller—lesser, perhaps. Maybe if there’s less of him in this life, there might be less of a problem. 
One glance into his eyes and an entire lifetime flashes before your eyes. 
“I will do as I please, use whichever methods I choose. It doesn’t matter to me what they want. I will save you all without fail!”
There’s love and admiration. There’s trust and responsibilities. There’s arrogance and naïveté. 
“Someone…save me. Please, come and save me!”
But then there’s heartache and betrayal. There’s helplessness, bloodlust, and eternal darkness. 
You see a dream of bringing salvation to the common people. You see a righteous halo that thousands used to look upon, forcibly placed their belief onto that light until it shattered under the impossible burden. What’s left behind is an everlasting silence, a fallen god without his believers, a heart beating with despair, and an immortal soul that yearns for death. 
His courage. His anguish. His compassion. His resentment and hatred. His intuition and ignorance. 
You want to understand them all. 
“Did you get hurt?”
The world used to be a black void. Somehow, it becomes bright and smiles at him. Minho fights for every little detail in the smile, pushes his blurry consciousness to give it the right voice, and composes a small ray of light from his broken memories. 
“Take a rest, Minho.” 
Minho lets a forgotten tear slide down his cheek when a soft piece of wool drapes itself around his exposed neck. His fingers tug at the material, slow and clumsy. He leans forward without a second thought, into the warm presence of safety. You sigh, hugging him closer so he can calm his breaths. Your embrace feels like washing the blood from his hands and waking up from a nightmare to the warm morning sun. 
Here is a person who cares for him. 
Here is a person who he can reach out to when he thinks such a thing as affection might not be fitting for his tainted soul.
Here is a person who makes him hope again even when his heart was too worn out to look for any validation. Your hug is tight, so very tight as if you’re willing to open your ribs and tuck the mess that is him inside, to keep him close and safe. The mess that is precious because a part of you is afraid that you might make him shatter if your touch is too desperate. 
Minho still can’t believe it because you don’t let go and only hold him impossibly tighter. “Are you…is this-is this real…?”
Your brow twitches in irritation. This fool… what the absolute fuck…
In a moment of candid boldness, you push him away and smack him across the face in hopes of bringing him back to clarity. The haziness in his head eventually fades away, leaving him flabbergasted. Palm against a cheek, his skin and flesh flush hot and swollen. When was the last time someone got upset at him like this? When was the last time someone cared enough to put him back into his place? Frankly, Minho can’t quite remember. 
“Did it hurt?”
“Yes.” His breath leaves him in a soft rush. 
“Then I am real. All of this is real. Isn’t that great?”
“Yes.” Naturally, the tears keep coming. 
“If you dare to wander around death’s door again for my sake, I’ll hit you twice. Got it?”
He doesn’t respond. Only a small smile greets you under the beaming moonlight. A cold wind blows. You hold his teary gaze until your heart can’t take it anymore and your hand reaches out to ruffle his hair. 
The first step toward warmth takes him a lifetime of eight hundred years. 
But it’s worth it because he is no longer alone. 
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Not to your surprise, Hyunjin is a lonely kid and immediately whines to his parents about setting up another playdate with Felix. You always know the brat would get attached quickly. 
“You got it?”
Minho shoves his hands into his pockets as he runs over things he shouldn’t say in front of the kids for the last time. “Yeah, you’ve asked me for the fifth time already.”
“I can’t trust an eight hundred-year-old man,” you smile and lean against the front door. 
For some reason, he looks offended. “I have good memories. I can summarize the entire battle of Hwangsanbeol in five seconds. Try me.”
“Isn’t that like common knowledge?” Your brows furrow. “People don’t need to have a first-class certificate in Korean History to know that Baekje won.” 
His commiserating sigh reeks of disappointment. “Y/N, sweetie. Kim Gwanchang sacrificed himself, helped Silla regain their morale, and made Kim Yushin victorious.” Whatever, you never liked the subject anyway. 
The door is wide open for him now. Your lips curl up into a soft smile when your gazes collide, “ know what, why don’t you opt to be Hyunjin’s history tutor instead of a babysitter?” It’s hard to break eye contact as he secretly thinks about how pretty your eyes are. 
“Don’t be a creep, Minho.” 
Minho nearly trips and falls on his face when Jisung’s voice echoes inside his head. “You’re already talking too much.” 
“You could have left me at home or something. No offense but your spine isn’t the most ideal place to kick back.”
His lips wordlessly twitch in exasperation but he tries not to make a sound. He can’t afford to let you witness the unhinged banter as if he hasn’t freaked you out enough already. “Hilarious.”
“Wait until I tell an actual joke,” Jisung is glaring at him, he can feel it. “Ooh, my bad. That’s you.”
“What a shame, Han. I guess you’re not hanging out with the kids today.” Minho raises his index finger and drags out a simple charm in thin air. Jisung instantly shuts up.
An exhale of relief and his gaze begins to roll around the Lee’s household. He almost gawks, literally. This isn’t a house, it’s a fucking mansion. It gives him a hunch that this Felix brat must have steaks for breakfast on a daily basis. The kid’s family is definitely loaded. 
The moment he sets foot into the living room, he gets assaulted. Well, that’s mildly exaggerated. His leg gets assaulted. The culprit is no other than a familiar ball of fluff. It is barking at him with the level of energy that can easily surpass a toddler going through a sugar rush. 
“Well, looks like Kkami didn’t forget you,” you fail to suppress your laughter. 
The said dog, Kkami, circles around him until they both get slightly dizzy, his tail wagging so hard Minho fears it might as well fall off. Reluctantly, he kneels down to pet his head because Kkami is practically ruining his new pair of jeans. 
“Hyunjin, this is Minho. He found Kkami and brought him home the other day for you,” you attempt to call Hyunjin over because Felix is already taking peeks at the new guest from behind your legs. 
Minho gives him a finger-gun, “Sup.”
Hyunjin pulls in a deep breath, shuffling from his position on the couch. Then he hops off the cushions, drags his feet on the tiled floor, and stares at the odd scenario while tugging at your finger. He’s clearly unhappy that some random guy just walked into his life and took his puppy’s attention away from him. 
“Hey kid,” Minho flaps a hand. “Can Kkami do any cool tricks?”
Hyunjin scowls, “No.” 
A mischievous brow flickers. “Do you want me to teach him for you?”
“No. What do you want?” 
Never mind, kids aren’t easy to deal with these days. Minho deliberately lets out a desperate sigh before pushing himself up, “What I’m trying to say is I want to be your babysitter slash tutor slash puppy trainer if the last one is a real job that is.”
“You can’t do that many jobs at once,” Hyunjin replies snottily, very unconvinced. 
“I can.”
There’s a split second where Minho looks somewhat ticked off, however, he recalls your words from earlier and replaces the frown with a forced smile. He walks up to Hyunjin, leans down to match his eye level, and tilts his head almost threateningly. 
“If you don’t agree, I can just kidnap your dog.” 
You instinctively smack him on the back of his head. He wouldn’t dare. 
The usual shrug of carefreeness leaves his shoulders when you start staring daggers at him. The fact that he knows how to exorcise curses and demons but still lets you touch his weak point should really be enough of a hint about his liking for you. The cursed shackles are already there so he’s got nothing to lose anymore. 
“You won’t do that,” Hyunjin, to your surprise, retorts confidently. “Because then you won’t get paid.”
Touché. The kid is smart, that’s good. His brain is already full of stupidity thanks to Jisung. 
“It’s your loss if you don’t take me in.” Minho pulls away casually, he can’t help but notice the longing gaze on the toddler’s face. Kids are kids, they do get attached quickly. “I’m a full package,” he rightfully asserts. It’s not unbelievable. A person can do a lot for a lifetime of eight hundred years. You won’t be surprised if he randomly becomes a flamethrower tomorrow and simultaneously starts his second career as a bartender during nightfall. 
“You’re just in it for the money.” Of course, Minho shamelessly nods at that. “You’re kind of a little shit.”
Wait, pause. 
“Hyunjin, sweetheart,” you blink rigidly. “Where did you learn that from?” The little rat turns away without a word while still grabbing at your shirt tightly. Silence really speaks more than words. 
Felix raises his hand in a timid manner, “He heard it when you stubbed your toe the other day.” And you’re already wondering where the nearest cliff is. Study reveals: you can’t suffer if you’re dead. 
The flat expression on Minho’s face is having a hard time maintaining itself. It makes you want to throw him into a tank full of sharks. “I’d say that is reasonable. What are you supposed to say when you get hurt? A freaking prayer?” 
“So what? Are we going to allow them to curse when they get hurt now?” you heave at him incredulously, “What if Felix curses at daycare and all the toddlers on the playground start slapping themselves in the face in order to use vulgar language?”
His brain gears pause for a moment. “What the do you know that?”
“I have many secrets.” 
“Yeah, remind me not to mess with you?”
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“Ready to surprise Felix at daycare?”
Hyunjin jumps slightly in his seat in excitement, “Yep!”
Right, did you mention that Mr. and Mrs. Lee have a thing for going on business trips unannounced? Naturally, Mrs. Hwang has no reason to not let Felix stay at their place until his parents come back. Poor kid, no wonder Hyunjin’s got such a soft spot for him. 
So as soon as the bell rings, you decide to come and pick Hyunjin up for a short car ride. After all, he’s too smart to live under a rock all the time. You deeply despise unfulfilled potentials. 
On a similar note, Minho still didn’t get Hyunjin’s approval, which is reasonable. 
However, because he is technically your new roommate and is jobless, he unconditionally follows you whenever you’re outside of classes. Truth be told, it feels like you’ve brought home an attention-starved cat but hey, who are you to complain? 
“Also…” you drawl, side-eyeing the passenger seat. “What’s with the cold shoulder?” 
Minho doesn’t even bother to glance at you, the audacity. “What cold shoulder?”
“The one you’re giving me right now as we speak.” 
You like to reassure yourself that he’s too focused on admiring how clean your car is to respond. And truthfully, your car is clean and he does like it. It’s the only metal box that he’s willing to sit in rather than teleporting himself. 
Your car is pristine yet it doesn’t have that awful smell of new cars. You always shove the old notepad full of mildly comprehensive grocery lists into the door’s storage compartment and end up forgetting everything. If he glances back, there’s the fluffy blanket you start keeping in the backseat in case he complains about the air conditioning. And then, the tiny, red sparrow keychain hung upon the rear-view mirror reminds you of Jisung which reminds you of him. 
Minho would like to correct you that Jisung is a descendant of the vermillion bird, not a sparrow but he thinks it doesn't matter either way if you bought it because of him. 
“I’d like to think that I’m hot, not cold.” 
You chuckle, amused, “Did I accidentally offend you somehow? Hey, stop turning your back on people when they’re talking to you!”
His face unknowingly flushes because he knows damn well his reasons might be too shallow. “Would you please just get off my back and shoulders?” 
“Minho, it was a harmless date,” Jisung supplies unhelpfully. 
“But she only got back in the middle of the night! I even made us dinner!”
“Seriously? I went missing for almost a week and you didn’t even bother to look for me. What kind of a parental figure are you? I’m feeling the need to report you for child abandonment.”
“Saying ‘I fucking hate you’ would have sufficed, Han.”
“By the way, thanks for the food last night,” you scratch your cheek once you remind yourself of the hefty meal and a completely passed-out Minho on the couch. “It was much better than the place we went to.” 
You’re not upset with the date. You just thought it would be rude if you never gave the guy the chance when he didn’t have any ill intentions. It was an average experience, you’d say. And was it worth a total of a two-hour drive? No, of course not. 
“Yeah?” Minho keeps gazing out the window. “If that’s the case, you should just stick to your type and not some random moron from uni.” 
You pout. You know that he’s right. “I’m sure it’s not possible to find someone who’s good-looking, can cook, nice, and doesn’t have the personality of a piece of white bread all at the same time.” 
Jisung instantly loses his absolute shit while Minho’s complexion goes impossibly paler like you’ve stuck four screwdrivers through his skull without mercy. The worst part? Only he has to go through the hysterical experience because the stupid bird is practically inhabiting his spine. 
“Are you going to date a god?” Hyunjin perks up from the back seat. 
And this time, you nearly crash the car. 
Minho’s shoulders are clearly shaking from laughing too hard. Jisung should be enjoying this, too. You can feel it. 
Shakily, you take a moment to breathe while clutching the steering wheel. “No, why’d you say that?”
“Then you should lower your expectations.”
Why the hell are you being lectured by a nine-year-old? You want a fucking refund. 
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“Oh look, there he is!” Hyunjin grabs your hand and drags you ahead. 
“Hey wait for me—ugh!“ Minho tried to trail after as quickly as he can but someone just slams into him with their entire body weight. “What the hell??” 
“Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” The young man shoots him a dimpled smile, offering him a hand and picking up the mess on the ground right after. 
Minho only stares back at him from head to toe. Dark under circles, tired shoulders, a name tag that reads ‘Bang Chan’, and a box full of colorful books. It is most likely that he works at this daycare place. “Yeah, I’m good. Just be careful next time,” he replies dryly, eyes already darting elsewhere to look for you. 
“You too!” Chan flashes one last smile before running off. If Minho is being honest, it’s kinda hard to get mad at him because he looks like any amount of his sanity has already been thrown out the window about three years ago. 
His gaze spontaneously stops dead on the concrete before him and there lies a small storybook. “So what? Do I have to return this, too?”
“Uh-huh. Try and act decently for once, it’s not that hard,” Jisung suggests. 
And obviously, Minho has no excuse to reject it. He just needs to find you first. You’re better at socializing than he is after all. 
But when Minho pushes his way through the glass door, the first thing he sees is Felix and another kid being surrounded by three different grownups—one of which he recognizes is Chan. 
The daycare is relatively empty because it’s already past the working hour. Felix and the other kid have tears trailing down their cheeks, though Felix’s eyes are somewhat bright knowing that he has nothing to be afraid of. 
Hyunjin himself is heaving like he’s absolutely enraged. If it weren’t for you holding him tightly to your side, things would have escalated very quickly. 
“My brother’s storybook is gone! And who was helping you two clean up after playing hour today?” The furious girl your age glares at Chan and his colleague. 
Felix lifts his head and faces her glare head-on. “I-I did.”
“So where is Senju’s storybook?”
“I already put it inside the box! I promise-“
“But it’s not there, is it?” She crosses her arms and glances at her brother who’s bawling his eyes out every now and time before scoffing. “You know what, this isn’t even worth it. Apologize to Senju and I’ll let this go.” 
Felix lowers his head this time, trying his best to hold back his tears. “But I did nothing wrong!”
With a deep breath, Minho walks toward your side and places a warm hand on your shoulder. You peer at him sideways at the contact, your eyes clearly burning with cold rage. This only adds to his panic. Great. Now what?
“Yes?” He jumps a little at your voice. 
You push Hyunjin toward his side and curl your fists. “Stay here with Hyunjin. This shouldn’t take too long.”
For a second there, Minho has absolutely no idea what to do. Kids are crying. The grownups are mad. The daycare employees are incredulously useless. And he knows better than to let you go near that woman because the minute you approach her, he’s sure that you’re out for blood. Not literally but still. 
“Set one priority only. Felix.” Jisung helps him knock on wood before you can walk away. 
Those words snap him back to clarity instantly. “No, you stay here,” Minho says firmly and grabs your wrist. “It’s fine, Y/N. You don’t have to do anything.”
To his dismay, you stare back at him dead in the eye. “Well if what that girl is doing to Felix is fine, then I guess second-degree murder is also fine.”
“What are you gonna do? Kill her with a stuffed toy?”
“I can try.”
“I’m just going to talk to her, I swear.”
“You were literally planning her murder.”
“No, I am just going to unalive her.”
“You what—“
“Excuse me, you’re not letting me talk. I was the one who carried the boxes.” Chan rubs a stiff finger on his temple before exhaling. “And it is actually Senju’s turn today to be on cleaning duty. Felix was never obligated to help us in the first place.” 
The girl gasps aloud, “Oh? So now you’re putting the blame on my brother?”
The brunet named Seungmin finally speaks up, pushing Felix behind his legs, “We deeply apologize for what happened. However—“
“I don’t need your apology. It’s him who needs to apologize,” she cuts him off and points a finger at Felix in accusation. Surprisingly, you have not heard one audible sob from the kid, though the quiver of his shoulders tells you that he’s at his limit. 
Felix may have done nothing wrong but he’s still just a kid. An adult on the verge of exploding will make any toddler go stiff. However, even if Felix did accidentally drop the storybook somewhere, she has no right to talk him down like that. He wasn’t even on duty today. 
Did you mention that you wanted to unalive her?
You take a breath. “Hey, you fucking waste of oxy—“
Minho panics and clasps a hand over your mouth. You then shoot him a warning look that lets him know if he doesn’t let you go in the next three seconds, you’re going to make him. 
He shakes his head gently, giving you a long and silent stare. Your anger melts at the tenderness, your tense shoulders slowly loosen up. “Fine. Go.” 
With a deep inhale, Minho walks over to the commotion, his expression unwavering as every eye in the room pins him into place. Other kids’ in daycare hushed whispers can be heard and it’s clearly affecting Felix more than it should. He needs to end this quickly. 
“And you,” Seungmin exhales tiredly as if another disaster has struck. “What do you want?”
Minho’s eyes stop dead in their tracks at the name tag. “Kim Seungmin.”
Before the latter can get any say in this abrupt conversation, Minho swiftly grabs him by the collar, sucks in a sharp breath, and slams his head against the poor guy’s skull with an impact strong enough for a mild concussion. 
You almost choke on blood. “What-What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
The pale look on the girl’s face is priceless. You could have laughed if you weren’t so shocked yourself. 
“Oh my god, Seungmin! Are you okay?!” Chan freaks out and holds his stumbling colleague by the shoulders. He whips his head up to meet eyes with the culprit pointedly. “Just so you know..violence is absolutely unacceptable. What possessed you into doing such a-“
“Is this the storybook that you’re looking for?” Minho holds up the book in front of his face. 
Seungmin regains his awareness and squints at the vibrant hardcover with slightly disoriented vision. Accepting the book with one hand while the other on his head, he lifts a brow. “Yeah, that’s the one… Wait, why do you have it?”
The flat expression remains on Minho’s face, his head motioning toward a very confused Chan. “He bumped into me and dropped it.” 
Naturally, awkward apologies are exchanged. Minho instantly wants to bury himself but decides to stay so Felix can hold his hand through the process. He isn’t appalled at all when Senju’s older sister chooses not to say a single word. So his rationality tells him to do what he does best. 
“Felix, listen.” Minho kneels down to meet his eye level. “Next time a bad grownup accuses you of doing things that you didn’t do, you tell them to kindly shut the fuck up and walk away because you don’t owe them shit. Okay?” 
Felix sniffles one last time and breaks into a big smile. “Okay!”
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Minho’s face falls crooked at Hyunjin’s intense stare in the rearview mirror. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“You were making a total fool of yourself,” the kid stabs a finger his way and averts his gaze completely, embarrassment flushing his cheeks. 
“What was that?” Minho grins back like the sly bastard he is. 
You shrug from the driver’s seat. “He said you were looking kinda cool.”
“Wait, so if you had the book the entire time, why did you have to headbutt the poor guy?” Jisung pops up in realization. 
Minho only purses his lips. “His face pisses me off.”
“I never said anything like that!” Hyunjin finally stops whining in his seat after a long beat of silence. “Fine! I’ll ask my parents to let you babysit me.”
The crystalline joy in his eyes is so obvious that you almost wheeze at his effort of trying to hide it. Minho exchanges a small look with you, internally screaming with all his might that he’s finally, finally not jobless anymore. At least for the next few months. Working while being able to be with you is more than enough.
“Under one condition.” Hyunjin holds up a finger. 
And never mind. Minho almost forgets this kid is constantly opposed to anything remotely related to him for no apparent reason at all. 
“You said you’re really smart right? Whenever I have a question, I want you to answer it honestly. And you don’t get to call my questions stupid.”
Oh, that’d be easy then. 
A wave of lighthearted chuckles bursts from his lips. “Okay done. There’s no such thing as a stupid question.” 
“Can you answer my questions, too?” Felix raises his hand expectantly. 
“Sure. No problem.”
Hyunjin doesn’t have to hesitate anymore. “Okay, I have a question. Do you believe in gods?” 
You and Minho simultaneously tense up. Concern begins rooting inside your rib cage because this is a relatively sensitive topic to him. Having the kids talk about it too much might be equivalent to playing with fire. 
“Why do you ask?” Minho tries to keep his voice from snapping. 
To his surprise, Hyunjin’s eyes glow with awe, bright and pure. “Because when I was praying for Kkami to come home at night, someone really brought him back to me the next day. I wasn’t praying to anyone in particular but I felt like someone was listening to my prayer. I believe someone was watching over me all night. The only person who could go through all that work for me without any complaints must be a god, right?” 
It melts and breaks Minho’s heart altogether. 
His gaze meets yours again. The oncoming tears are making it hard to see what kind of expression you’re making. He is absolutely stricken but letting one droplet fall will make him blanch with shame. When his brain tries to come up with something cutting and clever as a response, his tongue clams up. Speechless. 
“The kid does have some range. Good to know.” Jisung lets out a discreet exhale, not knowing whether this warmth in his chest is coming from himself or Minho. 
“Gods do exist, Hyunjin,” you speak up after the prolonged stillness. “They might not be able to do everything but they are always trying their best no matter what.”
Minho eventually lets out a laugh; his chest feels so light and content. “She’s right. Gods do exist.” 
“I have a question, too!” Felix wags his fists in excitement. 
“What is it?”
“Are you in love?”
You don’t intend to crash the car but being able to operate the vehicle normally is going to be a complicated task. 
Hyunjin gives the younger kid a weird look. 
Jisung is, well, losing his shit all over again. 
And Minho stays quiet for a very very long time. 
“Stupid question.”
271 notes · View notes
inkykeiji · 6 months ago
the clock is ticking, running out of time
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characters: shigaraki tomura
genre: smut and angst
notes: AAAAAAH HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOMURA!!!!!! sorry i seem to write angst for all of my faves birthdays ehehe. this is technically set in the touya-nii universe!! | title cred: birthday by katy perry
warnings: 18+ minors dni, cheating, implied stepcest/pseudo-incest, toxic relationships, the slightest hint of degradation, noncon/dubcon video recording, extreme feelings of guilt
words: 4.4k
“It’s fine—”
“It’s not,”
“I didn’t come here to talk about Touya,” you say gently, letting your dress drop down as you straighten up. “Let’s—Let’s not think about him right now, okay? Today is your day, and I want to focus on you. Forget about Touya,”
A deep frown mars his face, his nose twitching again. It looks like he wants to say more, but then your hands are on him, roaming across his bony chest and sliding into the tufts of silvery-blue hair at the nape of his neck.
“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together. Sweet breath wafts over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”
And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.
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You shouldn’t be doing this.
That’s the thought that’s been looping through your head for the past forty-five minutes, for the entire bus ride from Touya’s apartment to Tomura’s, for the walk from the bus stop to his condo complex, for the thirty-seven seconds it takes him to answer the door.
You shouldn’t be doing this.
But you want to.
It’s been months since you’ve seen him last, months since you spent the night with him, months since you’ve spoken to him at all.
4:06. The glowing numbers glare up at you from the screen of your phone, unable to stop obsessively checking your phone, mentally calculating the time you have left over and over again, even though you’ve already meticulously planned this outing down to the very second.
It’s rare for Touya to be out for an exact amount of allotted time, but when he mentioned that he had a three hour full body check up with his doctor that just so happened to be scheduled on Tomura’s birthday…Well, it was too convenient for you not to seize the opportunity.
The door swings open, breaking you out of your thoughts, and your name leaves his lips in a gasp, crimson eyes searching your face in disbelief. A beat of silence passes before he speaks again. “What’re you doing here?”
“Wanted to see you for your birthday,” you say simply with a shrug and he blinks several times, still staring at you incredulously. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?”
And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, terrified that he doesn’t want you here, that he thinks the risk is too big—Touya will murder the both of you if he finds out—too dangerous, his body gone rigid in the doorway, breathing stopped.
But then a brilliant smile is splitting his face, and he’s pulling you into his arms, crushing you to his chest as his fingers curl in the material of your dress.
And you—you practically collapse against him, sighing out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. He still smells exactly the same, just as you remember—like cheap cigarettes and watermelon bubblegum.
The scent evokes thick unfurling remorse, sinking heavily in your stomach, the mantra you’ve been repeating to yourself for the past few days immediately flowing through your mind, a desperate attempt to reassure yourself, to reason with yourself, to justify this decision.
Because you both deserve closure, don’t you? After everything that’s happened? After leaving him without a trace, without so much as a phone call or a quick text to at least let him know you’re okay?
Because Touya’s cheated on you how many times throughout the first six months of your relationship? One more teeny tiny instance of infidelity—the last one, you promise yourself—shouldn’t hurt, so long as he doesn’t know about it.
Really, this does nothing to dispel the culpability churning in your chest. No, Tomura’s bright boyish smile does that all by itself, sincere in the way it’s stretched across his face as he tugs you inside.
And...And suddenly, none of it really matters. Not in that moment, at least. Suddenly, all of those statements are rendered true; Tomura does deserve this. Suddenly, you realize just how much you’ve missed him.
“I have to be quick, I’m sorry,” your voice cracks under unexpected emotion, but Tomura doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, ecstatic over the fact that you’ve come to visit at all.
“That’s fine,” he’s saying as his hands roam your body, kneading and squeezing with surprising gentleness, eyes shining and wide as they follow his touch, as if he can’t believe you’re here, can’t believe you’re real.
It has your heart shattering in your chest, jagged shards puncturing your surrounding organs, burying themselves deep within you, never to be dug out. A lump lodges itself in your throat, voice frail and full of spit as you speak around it.
“I missed you so much,” the words rush from between your lips without your permission, and Tomura pulls back, smile fading as his gaze searches your face.
For a moment, you can tell that he wants to berate you for disappearing without any contact at all, can see it shining clear as crystal in his eyes as they narrow, as eyebrows knit and his nose scrunches, and you nuzzle your face into him. Guilt, a different kind than that which Touya evokes—this type lighter than the dense acidic guilt that sticks to your insides like thick tar any time sapphire sears through your mind, this type bitter and saturated with melancholy—roots in the pit of your stomach.
“I—I’m sorry I haven’t been able to text,” you mumble meekly, tears pricking your eyes. “Touya—”
“It’s okay,” he cuts you off with surprising softness, fingertips still trailing up and down your spine. “I figured. Uh, how is he? Like, how…How was he?”
The brand of those five letters, now fully healed, scald your flesh, blistering bright and hot as if you had just been branded again. With your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, you contemplate just outright telling him—he’s going to see it eventually either way, but you’re worried about ruining the mood a little too early.
Better to rip it off like a band-aid, to get it out of the way now, instead of interrupting your birthday festivities later.
Your chest swells with a deep inhale, exhaling the words slowly.
“He was…” Livid. Furious beyond belief. Deeply hurt—distressed, distraught, dismayed. Visibly shaken up. In more pain than you’ve ever witnessed before. Terrified. “Upset. Naturally.”
Tomura waits for you to continue, speaking after a few moments of silence. “And?” he prompts, knowing Touya didn’t let you get away with a mere verbal warning, knowing you have more to say.
“A-And—” you bury your face against his neck, hot tears leaking from your eyes and staining his skin as they squeeze shut tightly, forcing the quivering words from your throat. “And he—He, um, he branded me,”
“What?” The word is just a huff of breath as large hands curl around your shoulders, yanking you from the sanctuary of his body so he can scrutinize your face, flashing crimson flying across your features. “He what?”
“His name,” you whisper, eyes still shut, face screwing up in distaste, the words bitter on your tongue.
“My ass,”
“Let me see,”
Eyes snapping open, your head begins to shake, motions cutting off when your stare meets his glare. Reluctantly you turn, flipping your dress up as you bend over a bit, pulling your panties down just enough to show him the slightly raised letters etched into your flesh forever.
Save for the soft, choked noise that sounds in the back of his throat, silence blankets the room, atmosphere suddenly stale and suffocating.
You glance back at him after a few beats, when your chest is beginning to burn from holding your breath in your lungs, and the sight that you are met with has your chest tearing itself in half, ribs caving in, giving way to the deep, dark ache swirling at the very core of your body.
Crimson eyes gleam in the setting sun, a thick layer of tears catching in the golden rays streaming through the window. It’s almost pretty in a way, brilliant ruby that shimmers and shines in the waning beams, practically glowing. But those beautiful, beautiful eyes are transfixed on your bare flesh, unblinking stare etching itself into your skin much like the letters Touya left behind.
His chin trembles just a little, front teeth sinking into his bottom lip in an attempt to halt it, head nodding in minuscule motions, barely noticeable, almost as if he’s confirming something to himself, affirming some unsaid thought sailing through his mind—almost as if he’s blaming himself.
“Fucking bastard,” he spits, though the words are wobbly, lacking heat and coated in sticky saliva. Using the sleeve of his black shirt, he wipes at his nose almost aggressively, quelling it’s twitching as he exhales harshly, nostrils flaring, before he sniffs twice and rolls his shoulders back, gaze finally meeting yours.
“It’s fine—”
“It’s not,”
“I didn’t come here to talk about Touya,” you say gently, letting your dress drop down as you straighten up. “Let’s—Let’s not think about him right now, okay? Today is your day, and I want to focus on you. Forget about Touya,”
A deep frown mars his face, his nose twitching again. It looks like he wants to say more, but then your hands are on him, roaming across his bony chest and sliding into the tufts of silvery-blue hair at the nape of his neck.
The glittering scarlet lace barely obscured by your thin dress singes itself into your flesh as his palms cascade over it, tracing every dip and curve of your body as they slide down to grope your ass.
You had bought the set for this occasion specifically—using cash you had stashed away, of course; Touya regularly checks your bank statements and credit card—with the intention of letting Tomura keep it, as a present.
“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together, sweet breath wafting over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”
And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.
He surges forward, foreheads bumping together from the strength, and crushes his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, nimble fingers curling in the hem of your dress and yanking, pulling the material from your body in one erratic motion.
He’s just as enthusiastic as he was all those months ago, large hands settling on your lace-clad hips as he guides you—back, back, back, stumbling over your own feet a little as he shoves forward, teeth clacking as his tongue tangles with yours, interspersed drool pooling at the corners of your lips.
A soft cry of surprise leaves your lips as he roughly spins the two of you so he’s the one reversing, collapsing in the overstuffed gaming chair abandoned near his desk and hauling you down with him, wheels rolling against the hardwood from the force.  
His lips are plush and chapped, kisses messy with strings of viscous saliva, and you’re reminded of how fun kissing Tomura is, playful giggles spilling from one mouth into another consistently breaking the flow as eager hands paw and pull, snapping the clasp on your bra and haphazardly discarding it, your fingers toying with the silver button of his charcoal jeans.
“Get on with it already,” he groans, impatient and entitled as ever, exactly how you remember, hips rutting up into you clumsily as hands travel up your torso to knead your breasts much too hard. And even though it shouldn’t, his predictability inspires a burst of intense warmth in your chest, burning bright like a tiny sun, heat seeping into your blood and flooding your veins as more involuntary giggles pry their way out of your mouth and into his.
“Think that’s funny, huh?” he asks, and although his eyes are fierce and sharp as they scrutinize your face, there’s a playful little grin decorating his lips, slender fingers tweaking a peaked nipple and snickering at your resulting yelp.
“Just missed you, s’all,” you mumble against him, lips dragging along his jaw then trailing down his neck, tongue peeking out to give kitten licks at self-inflicted scars and tugging pathetic little half-whimpers from deep in his throat, rough and uneven as he tries to swallow them back down.
There isn’t enough time for thorough prep, your only form of foreplay consisting of his cock being rammed down your throat—just get it fucking wet, he had demanded—hips stuttering as he desperately tries to keep from bucking while your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in spit.
“Fu-Fucking stop, or I’m gonna cum,” Large fists tangle in your hair, trying to yank you off his cock with a pathetic little whine. Gaping pupils outlined by a fine ring of scarlet observe the way your shining lips pucker around his girth as your mouth slides up, grip on your strands already loosening as his chest heaves, completely absorbed by your actions, breath escaping slightly parted lips in sweet little puffs.
A little tongue flicks against the slit as you reach the tip, placing an obscene openmouthed kiss to the head before pulling away completely. Your mouth hovers an inch above it, allowing a large glob of sticky saliva to dribble from your mouth onto the head, then kissing it again, pressing slippery lips to heated silky skin.
“Jesus Christ,”
The curse is nearly a moan, and you look up from your place between his thighs, batting your eyelashes and offering him a tiny smile. His eyes glitter as he gazes down at you, chest rising unevenly under the force of ragged breaths, a thumb swiping across your cheek in a manner that’s almost awestruck, as if he can’t believe you’re here.
“Get on my cock,” he orders a moment later, when the aching between his legs draws him back to reality, hips jerking up in reflexive, instinctive micro-movements, gleaming cock bobbing with the action. “And take your fucking panties off,”
It’s a little awkward and a lot uncoordinated, trying to maneuver yourself onto his lap while he slouches in that ridiculous gaming chair, unable to quell the way his hips prematurely thrust the moment you’re hovering over him, legs folded and cramped on either side of his thighs.
Pathetic little whimpers leak from your lips as his slick cock stretches your ill-prepared hole, cunt stinging as it struggles to adjust to the sudden breach, your nails digging into the lean muscles of his shoulders as a hiss is spit between clenched teeth.
But the moan he emits, deep and satisfying as you sink down on him, how his eyelashes flutter shut and his head knocks back against the headrest as he bottoms out, long ivory neck and prominent Adams apple on display, and the way massive hands grip your hips, fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he forces you to begin bouncing almost immediately, make it all so worth it.
Because he’s still so pretty, lids lifting a moment later to reveal dazzling ruby gazing at you in an almost voracious manner through thick dark lashes, glued to your face as he memorizes every micro-expression that transforms your features, the way your eyes roll back and eyebrows twitch, the way your mouth forms around those cute little gasps of his name that his rough thrusts punch from your chest.
“Did’ya miss my cock?” his breath is already coming out in short little pants, hips grinding urgently against yours, lacking any kind of finesse or rhythm. “B-Bet’cha did,”
“Uh-huh,” your head nods jerkily, hips rocking just as desperately into his as if to confirm your statement. His cock is pretty, too—a darker pink than Touya’s, half an inch shorter but just as fat, thick veins snaking around the shaft like vines.
“Dick drunk already?” he teases, and you’re positive his voice was meant to be more rancorous, but the large grin it’s spoken through, as if he’s proud of himself, chest nearly swelling with it, dilutes it, disintegrating the bitter shell that was supposed to coat the words. His tongue clicks, fluffy tufts of hair bouncing a little as he shakes his head. “What would your precious niichan think?”
You don’t answer—can’t answer—because it’s already so much, uncoordinated thrusting almost teasing in a way, the head of his cock unintentionally grazing that spot buried deep inside of you, the fleeting sensation mixing with that of the taboo, of the naughtiness of the situation, mewls spilling from your lips.
And you wish, so desperately, that you could take your time, that you could enjoy such amateurish gyrating, crude movements giving way to sloppy squelching that makes your stomach swoop and cunt throb as your clit glides against his pubic bone, but the mention of niichan reminds you of your finite amount of time and you lean back, soft palms finding the edge of his desk, fingers curling tightly around it.
Tomura’s bare feet planted on the hardwood keep the chair from shifting as you begin to really ride him, starting with slow, hard rolls of your hips that have cute little grunts hitching in his chest, bright eyes darkening as they watch, lids drooping a little, your movements increasingly gaining speed with each rock forward of your hips, leaning back against the desk and using it for leverage.
Blunt nails bite into your skin, and you want to remind him not to leave marks, but the words won’t keep their shape as they gurgle in your throat, evaporating into moans that break with each rough buck of his hips.
He finds a rhythm with you quickly, though, your lust-hazed mind dully noting that he’s better than before, the thought conjuring sudden, fierce spears of jealousy that slice through your chest, jaw clenching.
“Fuck, you—you’re still the best I’ve ever had,” he practically whines out, like he’s reading the thoughts on your face, but his voice is genuine, strained and hoarse with the confession. “Will probably always be the best I’ve ever had,” his sentence fades into a growl, almost as if he’s angry about it, hands squeezing your hips.
Nevertheless, you’re unable to stop the little smile those words paint across your lips, giggling breathlessly as bubbly warmth tingles in your chest, a sense of shameful pride rushing through your veins.
“Yeah?” he seethes in a huff, eyes narrowing. “Bet you’re proud of yourself for that, little slut,”
You are, you’re nodding, tongue rendered useless as his hips piston into you, cockhead repeatedly slamming against your cervix, reaching deeper and deeper and deeper the further you lean back, until the sharp edge of the desk is cutting into your back.
“I know you are,” he sneers, callous tone emphasized by his brute force as he fucks you. “V-Vain little bitch, happy she’s ruined me—ruined sex for me, forever,”
It’s getting harder for him to speak now, words punctuated by half-baked whimpers and swallowed, stifled moans, the sentiment under his speech accentuating pleasure for the both of you, dirty humiliation only making everything that much more intense, heady and addicting as it intoxicates your bodies, your minds, your souls.
“S-So the least you could do,” he begins in a keen, pace faltering as he squirms under you, yanking his phone from his back pocket. “Is give me something to—ah, Christ—remember you by,”
You should tell him no. You should cease all bouncing on his cock the moment he presses that little red button on his screen, the moment the flash next to the camera turns on, signaling it’s recording. You should.
But you don’t. You don’t, because he’s right. Because that guilt returns, seeping up through the floor of your stomach and spreading to your other organs, chest tightening as it reaches your heart. Because you took something from him, something he’ll never be able to get back, purely for your own selfish gain, just to get back at the man you love, and that isn’t fair. That will never be fair.
Instead, you look straight into the lens, hips beginning to ride him almost viciously, pushing out your chest further, bouncing tits on display as they heave with your lewd moans of his name, begging him to fuck you, begging him for his thick cum, and oh please, Tomura, please, give it to me, want your cum so bad, need your cum so bad, please!
He chokes on his own groan, the hand holding his phone beginning to shake slightly as the other finds its place on your hip again, his own thrusts pumping wildly as he spits expletives through gritted teeth, your pathetic little mewls egging him on.  
“G-Gonna cum?” he whines out, almost as if he’s begging you to say yes, the needy canting of his hips indicating that he’s about to, too, crimson searing into you as you nod messily. “Fucking do it, then, cream all over my cock like the good little whore you are,”
And you’re powerless to stop the loud cry that rips from your throat as your cunt clenches around him, only half of his name escaping in a yelp before your own shuddery gasp cuts you off, choking a little on the intense inhale, air sharp as razors as it rushes down your throat.
He follows less than a second later with a ferocious growl of your name, potent cum filling your aching little cunt, phone clattering to the floor as both hands grip your hips and force you to continue milking him until both of your bodies are shivering from the overstimulation.
You collapse against him, sweaty body melting into his, muscles quivering in exhaustion. Long arms encircle you, cradling you to his chest in a way that’s almost tender, phone laying forgotten a few feet away.
It’s just as nice as it was the first time, being swathed in his embrace, a gentle sigh slipping from between your lips. Nimble fingers trail up and down your spine, pressing into the notches, tracing the smooth, soft plains of your skin.
“Wish you could stay,” he mumbles into your hair, so quiet you nearly miss it—would have missed it if not for the vibrations in his chest.
Me too.
You want to tell him, want to express the same sentiment, to make it known that you desire the same thing, but the words tangle in your throat, that sticky brand of guilt that is specifically Touya refraining them from leaving your lips, yanking them back down into your chest with painful hitching breaths every time you try to speak.
You don’t even realize you’re crying until Tomura coos, pulling back a little to cup your face and tilt it up, big thumbs swiping across your cheeks as they catch glistening teardrops.
He doesn’t say anything—there is nothing to say—instead dipping his head to press his lips chastely to yours in the softest kiss he’s ever given you, mumbling his thanks for the birthday present a moment later.
There’s so much more you want to say, so much more you want to ask, but there’s no more time, opting to kiss him again in response, praying that it conveys all the things you can’t, all the things guilt won’t let you.
And then you’re scrambling off of his lap, collecting your dress off the floor and hastily pulling it over your head, turning back to find Tomura standing, holding out his hand, soaked lace in his grasp.
“Keep them,” you whisper, curling his fingers into a fist around the dainty material. “Happy birthday, Tomura,”
   ✰          ✰          ✰            
You have forty-five minutes before Touya arrives home—that’s cutting it close, you were supposed to have a full hour, but Tomura’s arms were so warm, his gently rising chest so inviting, his entire aura so comforting, that you had allowed yourself to indulge, just for a moment, to let your eyes slip shut and exhale a soft sigh of contentment, snuggling into his embrace and inhaling his distinct scent deeply, holding it in your lungs for a moment, wishing it would stay, wishing it would stick to the gummy walls, take root and find a home there, wishing you could keep a piece of him with you, always.
The water scalds your skin as you step into Touya’s glass shower, hands instantly reaching for Touya’s bodywash and squirting a generous amount in your palm.
You lather your entire body with it, until every inch of your skin is covered in foamy white suds, until your flesh has been scrubbed raw, the sharp scent—something woodsy and musky, like a crackling campfire of burning hickory wood, smoky and sweet—enveloping you entirely, stinging your nose.
It sticks in your throat and invades your lungs, as if cleansing you from the inside out, and you choke on it, are suffocated by it, little gasps and coughs falling from your lips while nails claw at your neck.
That dull ache returns as you rinse your skin, throbbing incessantly at the very core of your body as you watch the last remnants of Tomura swirl around the drain, infused in the soapy water.
It shouldn’t hurt this much, you’re thinking to yourself as your fingers massage shampoo into your scalp. It shouldn’t, but it does, a painful lump lodging itself in your throat, expanding a little more every time you try to reason with yourself until it’s gagging you.
Something stings your eyes—soap from the shampoo as you rinse it from your locks, or maybe the potently fragrant scent from Touya’s bodywash, you try to convince yourself, that lump sprouting tiny spikes and viciously slicing into the gummy walls, that lump forcing saliva still containing traces of Tomura to collect in your throat, that lump reminding you that you’re a fucking liar.
It’s fine. It’s fine. Touya doesn’t need to know everything, does he? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? And it was only a one time thing, wasn’t it? It’s alright, isn’t it?
These are the questions that cycle through your mind obsessively, running laps in your skull as you absentmindedly towel off your dripping body in your niichan’s bedroom, the gentle buzz of your phone snapping you out of your reverie.
For a moment, you’re terrified it’s Touya, texting you to tell you that he knows, you little slut, scrambling to snatch it off of the nightstand as trembling fingers hastily unlock it.
It isn’t Touya.
It’s Tomura.
best birthday present of my life, hands down. thank you. i love you.
The resounding slam! of the front door has your entire body flinching violently, the heels of Touya’s heavy boots thumping against the tile as he kicks them off mingling with his smooth voice as he calls your name.
It’s with watery eyes and painful little sniffles catching in your chest that your quivering thumb jabs at that tiny little trashcan in the corner of your screen, watching through blurry vision as the entire conversation disappears into the ether, gone forever—though those three glowing words that concluded the text are etched into the very tissue of your brain, where they will remain, forever.
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