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dees-writing-corner · 2 years

Text

three calls answered; one call missed - first call

pairing: wooyoung x fem!reader; ? x fem!reader

genre: angst

warnings: alcohol consumption

word count: 2075

a/n I'm gonna send this out in parts because I'm not really sure if I like having these long 5k+ oneshots on my page. may combine them together later on if I change my mind <3

ALSO, GUESS WHO'S OUT OF TUMBLR PRISON 🎊🎉

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It's about 11.30 in the evening and Yeosang and I were in my living room, bingeing 'Peaky Blinders'. He came over earlier this afternoon because he said, and I quote, ' I need to get away from all of the chaos Wooyoung is making at home'.

"I don't know why you like him. I mean, what do you see in him?"

Yeosang sat back down on the couch, handing me a mug.

"Yeo, you're talking about someone you've known for 8 years here. He's literally your roommate slash best friend."

"Exactly why I want to know what you see in him. I've lived with him for 4 years and he has a different girl in his bed every weekend. I mean, I love Wooyoung, I really do, but the dude does not have a good reputation with girls."

"Look," I shifted so that I was facing Yeosang instead of the TV, "If I could control my feelings, I would. However, I can't, which means I have to live with it until my body decides to like someone else."

"How about San?"

"What?"

"San, you know? My other roommate? The one that -"

Furrowing my brows, I cut Yeosang off, "I know who San is. What about him?"

"How about liking him instead? You've known the two for the same amount of time, and they're always attached at the hip. Maybe you actually like San. Plus, I'm pretty sure he likes you."

"Okay, first off, San definitely doesn't like me like that. Second off, stop talking about this. Nothing's gonna come out of it anyways. We'll just be friends."

Raising his hands in surrender, "Okay, no need to get worked up over -"

Yeosang was cut off by the sound of my phone ringing. Frowning, I looked around for my phone.

"Who is calling you at midnight?"

Yeosang looked around for my phone.

"How the hell would I know? Now, where's my phone?"

Yeosang shifted in his seat before pausing, "You know what? I think I'm sitting on it."

Standing up, Yeosang took the phone that was under him and handed it to me.

Furrowing my brows, I looked towards Yeosang, "Uh, why is your roommate calling me?"

"What?" Yeosang leaned in closer to look at my phone.

Answering the call, I brought the phone up to my ear with Yeosang pressing against me, trying to listen in.

"Wooyoung? What's up?"

Hearing music from the other side, I took a glance at Yeosang.

Was he at a bar?

"Hey, are you there?"

Just as I was about to hang up, a voice came through.

"Hello? Is this Y/N?"

Double checking the caller ID, I brought the phone back to my ear.

"It is, yes."

"I'm a bartender at Moon Club. The gentleman has had a lot to drink. Could you come pick him up?"

Sharing a look with Yeosang, "Um, yeah. I'll be there in about 20 minutes."

Hanging up the phone, I just looked at Yeosang.

"Why the hell did they call me? Don't they normally call the person you mumble or the last person you called or something?"

Shrugging, Yeosang made himself comfortable, "I don't know, I also don't care. Now, off you go. You said you'd be there in 20."

Blinking, I looked back at him, "You're not coming?"

"No, thank you. I've done it enough times. You can do it. Oh, and remember to make sure he changes before bed."

Dumfounded, I stared at him before sighing and grabbing my car keys.

"And whatever you do! Do NOT sleep with him!"

Closing the door behind me, I made my way to the car before driving to the club.

The drive there was quick. Probably because of how late it was.

Entering the club, I was hit by the sound of a strong bass and the smell of a mixture of perfumes and alcohol.

Quickly making my way to the bar, I saw Wooyoung laying his head down on his arm as a bartender handed him a glass of water. Slipping my way through the crowd, I reached Wooyoung.

"Wooyoung."

Lifting his head, Wooyoung looked at me with hazy eyes, pausing as his brain registered who I was.

"Y/N-ahhhhh!"

Wooyoung got up from the stool, stumbling over his feet as he did so.

Grabbing a hold of his arm, I made sure he was steady before turning to the bartender.

"Has he paid for his drinks yet, or?"

"You're good. The drinks are already paid for."

Nodding, I led Wooyoung out of the club and into the car.

"Okay, let's get you home."

Starting the car, I pulled out of the car park.

"Hmmm, churinaaaa."

Hearing Wooyoung mumble something, I glanced at him.

"What?"

Not hearing him respond, I simply shrugged it off and carried on driving.

Guiding Wooyoung to their flat, I leaned him against the wall by the door.

Ringing the bell, I waited a few seconds for San to open the door. Hearing no movement on the other side, I realised he must've been out.

"Wooyoung, hey," Patting him on the cheek, I tried to get him to look at me.

"Wha -?"

Lifting his head, Wooyoung looked at me.

"Where are your keys?"

He just stood there before slumping against the wall again.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I debated on whether or not I should just leave him in the corridor for the night. Because this is not how I expected my Friday night/Saturday morning to be.

Sighing, I reached a hand out, running it over his jean pockets, successfully locating his keys in the right front pocket on the first try.

Fishing them out, I opened the door before helping Wooyoung inside.

Kicking the door shut, I guided Wooyoung into his room, throwing him onto the bed before going to the kitchen.

Filling a glass with water, I went through some of their cabinets for some ibuprofen. Once I got everything, I walked back to his room, only to find him sitting up, looking at the door.

Placing the water and tablets on the nightstand, I turned to Wooyoung.

"Come on, get ready for bed."

Helping him out of his shoes and shirt, I tried to get him to lie down.

"Dude, as much as I like you, I'm not taking your jeans off. You either go to sleep like this or take them off yourself."

Sighing, I turned around to get my phone, wanting to call Yeosang to come back, but found myself being tugged into open arms.

"Stay."

Blinking, I was confused, "What?"

Furrowing my brows, I turned my head to the side. Trying to get out of his arms.

Wooyoung had his buried against the side of my neck, "Jaein, stay. Please."

Rolling my eyes, I struggled out of his arms.

"Wooyoung. I'm Y/N. Not Jaein. Now go to sleep. You're drunk."

Ignoring the twist in my stomach, I tried to dodge his hands.

And I failed.

His hands went straight to the sides of my face and pulled me in. The second I felt his lips on mine, my mind went blank. I didn't know what to do.

Feeling him move one of his hands to my waist snapped me out of my trance.

Pushing him with all of my strength, I watched as he fell onto the bed behind him, before leaving. Trying to keep all emotions at bay.

This was not what I wanted.

Wiping my mouth, I grabbed my keys and phone by the door and left the flat.

"Y/N?"

Looking up, I saw San come out of the lift, confused.

"What are you doing here?"

Schooling my face into a smile, "Oh! Wooyoung was drunk and the bartender called me to get him. He's inside right now. Can you handle him?"

"Yeah, no, sure. You head back home. I'll deal with him."

Smiling I hugged San before rushing into the lift.

Once I was in my car, I sat in the dark for a while. Collecting my thoughts.

Jaein. The first and only girl Wooyoung loved. They dated for 3 years in high school and later went to different universities. They broke up because he found her cheating on him when he wanted to surprise her. After that, Wooyoung didn’t care for relationships. He simply slept around.

Laughing at myself. I realised why Wooyoung was actually friends with me. I remember how surprised Yeosang had been when Wooyoung said that we were friends because he told me that Wooyoung didn't have any female friends.

Ignoring all of the pain I was feeling, I now knew that Wooyoung didn't see me as a friend. He saw me as a stand-in for his ex-girlfriend.

Closing my eyes, I took a couple of deep breaths before pulling out of the car park.

By the time I got home, it was already 1.30 in the morning.

"You're back! Finally! What took you so long?"

Walking into the living room, I saw Yeosang give me a once over before he frowned and pulled me down next to him.

"What happened? You didn't sleep with him, right? I warned you -"

"I didn't sleep with him."

Leaning into him, I let Yeosang wrap his arms around me.

"Wooyoung called me Jaein. "

"What?"

"He called me Jaein. Which means, deep down, or maybe not so deep down, Wooyoung sees me as a substitute, a stand-in for his ex-girlfriend. Oh, he kissed me as well. Thinking I was her."

There was a pause before Yeosang said anything.

"I'm sorry."

Breathing out a laugh, I turned my head to look at a picture I had next to the couch. The picture was taken on Halloween last year. We all decided to stay in that year and just watch horror films as we drank and talked. In the picture, Yeosang and San were standing behind me, smiles on both their faces as they held up their beers. Wooyoung was sitting next to me, an arm around my shoulder, and his cheek pressed against mine. That was actually one of the best nights I ever had with them.

"Y'know, I would've preferred if Wooyoung rejected me, because knowing that he sees me as Jaein hurts way more."

Sitting there, we both stared at the tv screen. Our minds miles away.

-1 week later-

Standing in front of Yeosang's flat, I hovered my hand on the doorbell, wondering why the hell I was there.

San invited me over for a Marvel movie marathon and couldn't say no because as much as I wanted to, San didn't do anything.

Taking a deep breath, I rang the doorbell, though I quickly regretted it a few moments later.

"Hey."

Feeling my breath get caught in my throat, I watched as Wooyoung opened up the door to let me in. A warm smile on his face.

Forcing a small smile onto my face, I entered, "Hi."

Placing my bag by the door, I went into the living room, trying to find San.

"San's in the kitchen making the popcorn. So, just make yourself comfortable on the couch."

Sitting on the couch, I unfolded one of the throws and threw it over myself.

"So," Wooyoung sat down on the opposite end of the couch, looking at me, "Are you and San dating?"

"No." San came out of the kitchen, placing the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table before he started to set up the TV.

"Just friends."

Wooyoung nodded slightly before clearing his throat, "So, um, San told me that you picked me up last Friday? I didn't do anything, right?"

Glancing at San, I saw him look back at me.

You see, San knew I had a crush on Wooyoung from the very start, he saw right through me. I didn't even have to tell him. And just like before, San knew something happened last Friday without me having to tell him. It was one of the main reasons I was here.

"No. You were, good."

Clapping his hands, Wooyoung got up from the couch, "Right, I'm gonna go now. I have an appointment with Allison."

San got all of the movies in order and took a seat next to me, "Andrea."

Nodding his head once, Wooyoung grabbed his keys off the table, "Right, I'll be home tomorrow morning. Bye."

The second we heard the door click shut, San turned to me.

"Tell me what happened."

part 2

#ateez imagine #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung oneshot #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung angst #ateez angst #ateez imagines #ateez oneshots #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung oneshots #ateez yeosang #ateez san

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blackfictional · 2 years

Text

I remember you

Type: Original work drabble/exercise Summary: Luya and Okoro have a bit too much to drink. Fluff. Warning: Alcohol consumption, bad decisions Word count: 1158

Before Okoro realized it, the room had cleared out. Loud laughter, singing and yelling had been replaced by only Luya and him exchanging glances. Zuria had gone upstairs to sleep and taken her flute with her. Dami must have gone outside to check on the kiplas, like he promised he would. Okoro shifted on his floor cushion as Luya took another swig of her drink. The lanterns scattered across the room, flickered every couple of seconds.

"Hey, Okoro. Tell me something about yourself,” she said, a sly smile on her lips. Her tone had changed completely, he had never seen her this relaxed and unwound. Gone were her calculated movements and stiff posture. It was like day and night, a completely different person. She was not tipsy anymore, she was drunk.

“I don’t know, what do you want me to say," Okoro replied, trying to hide how flustered he suddenly felt. But he couldn’t help himself, it was strange seeing her like that. The mage uniform she was so proud of was all crumpled up from sitting on the floor. Her boots had come off at one point during the evening and been abandoned somewhere, exposing her legs.

“It’s not about what I want to you to say. Tell me something out of your own volition! You’re always so mysterious, hmm? It’s always Earth this, Earth that, but you never actually say anything, do you," she said while using her glass to point at him.

Was he really that mysterious? But then again, he was a guy who literally fell from the sky and turned her life upside down. He had no past, spoke of places she had never heard of and was somehow woven into the destiny of this land. From her perspective, he was a mysterious stranger. If only she knew.

"You know what,” she continued. This time she set her glass on the low table and began some kind of seductive crawl on all fours towards him. Uh uh. Okoro had a bad feeling about this, now she was drunk drunk.

“You do remind me of someone though, someone I went to school with," she said and planted herself right in front of him.

As he gazed into her eyes, her face mere inches away from his, Okoro wondered. Was she really thinking of him, was she finally remembering him? Perhaps there was a shred of him left somewhere in the depths of her subconscious.

"Which is funny, because I never had friends growing up," she continued and laughed. "You wouldn’t suspect it now, but all I did was learn and learn and burn my hands trying forbidden spells. Now I’m super powerful, but then I was weak and always alone."

She put her hands on him, trying to crawl onto his lap. This was clearly her drunken attempt at flirting with him, and he wanted to let her. But she was so drunk and out of character it made him uncomfortable. Her scent engulfed him, something warm like vanilla or lily of the valley. He tried to think of plant typology instead of getting lost in her coffee brown eyes. Gently, he pulled her slender hands off him and held her at a distance. The alcohol brewed in this village was on another level and he felt it rising up in his head.

"What‘s wrong?" She asked, genuinely disappointed. "Don‘t you want me?" Her tone was a mixture of confusion, disappointment and her usual haughtiness. He wondered what those hands, filled to their finger tips with powerful magic, could do when being wielded by a drunk person.

"You‘re drunk," he said as she plopped back to the ground in front of him. It didn’t feel good rejecting her like that, because it never felt good to push her away. But she clearly wasn’t herself, chances were, she was mistaking him for someone else entirely.

"No, I‘m not…," she began, but then her voice drifted off. She kept her eyes fixed on him, it felt like half an eternity, but then her face began to scrunch up. "You think I‘m ugly, don’t you?" She began as tears welled up in her eyes. Oh boy, Okoro thought, it was time for the crying part of being drunk.

"No, I don‘t think you‘re ugly, you know that," Okoro said matter of factly. She reached out and this time he couldn’t help but take her into his arms as she hugged him. If only to stop her from crying, he convinced himself. He took in her scent once more. Her hairdo had come undone, and brushed against his face. Her body felt soft and warm against his own.

"Then why don‘t you want me?" She sobbed, digging her fingers into his back.

"You‘re drunk and now you‘re even crying," he replied and pulled her closer. When was the last time he had hugged Luya like this? Their graduation party perhaps, at the end of high school. The party he had begged her to attend.

"I know I‘m ugly,” she sniffled. “The girls at the Mage Academy always said I would need glamour to get a husband. They tricked me into using a pig glamour," she continued to sob.

"There, there," he rubbed her back. "They were just jealous," he said.

Another half eternity seemed to go by, just her in his arms. He could feel the dampness from her tears on his shoulder. Time moved differently with Luya.

"You remind me of someone, you really do," she said after some time. She had finally calmed down, but refused to let go of him. "And you smell of the forest."

"I do?" Okoro asked.

"It‘s confusing, I can‘t really remember anyone like him at the Mage Academy, but I remember him, I know him, I know you…," she said. Her voice was mixed with sleep. Perhaps it was a memory of him, perhaps the worlds were beginning to overlap in her mind as well.

"How about you tell me about him tomorrow?" he said as Luya‘s grip finally loosened.

"That‘s a good idea," she said as he put her down onto the cushions. She looked up at him and caressed his cheek, a bright, almost goofy smile on her face. Then she curled up and pulled a loose blanket over herself. He would have to find a place to sleep elsewhere.

It was in this moment that something came thundering down the stairs. It was Zuria, crumpled into a pile at the foot of the stairs.

"Peeping Tom," Okoro said as he looked down at her dismissively.

"I didn‘t see anything, I swear!" she screamed as she dashed back up the stairs, clearly embarrassed. Oh, to be fourteen again.

Okoro looked back and saw that Luya was fast asleep. He could still feel her finger tips on his back.

#story: rbl #ch: luya #ch: okoro #original work #drabble #one shot #black fantasy #fluff #black writing ideas #ya girl actually wrote something

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espinosaurusrexex · 2 years

Text

Save Me I

College!BuckyBarnes x College!reader AU

summary: Bucky meets Y/N in a series of unfortunate events. But it doesn’t seem so bad, for some reason…

a/n: I know it’s another college au, and I am very sorry but it’s literally all I do right now. I don’t have a life. So please let me dream a little! The beginning is definitely inspired by firefighter Bucky in @foreverindreamlandd’s story In the Embers (It just happened. He popped into my head and opened up a campsite to stay for good). Read it here if you haven’t already!

word count: 7.5k

chapter warnings: *Steve Rogers voice* Language!, pessimistic world view, alcohol consumption, sexual themes but nothing detailed, kinda-meet-cute, tiny fluff

series masterlist | series playlist | read on ao3

A moron. That’s what he was. Dressed in a ridiculous costume and covered in gey-ish brown stage makeup to give the illusion of dirt and soot smeared over his exposed torso. The pants he was wearing barely held up by the uncomfortable suspenders that dug into the flesh on his shoulders and probably already left red angry marks underneath the material. He had been wearing a helmet when he entered the party, too. But God knows where that ended up. Probably some drunk girl's head after that horrifying round of seven minutes in heaven, he got dragged into an hour ago. Like seriously, how old are we?

Bucky looked like an imbecile. He stood in the corner of the Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity with a red solo cup in his hand. It was littered with angular white lines that stretched from the rim to the bottom due to the constant twitch of his hand, crushing it every time someone bumped into him. It was a miracle, really, that he had yet to spill his drink over someone dancing their way through the crowd of sweat and perfume to the bathroom door, which he assumed he was standing next to, by the number of girls entering and exiting in their little packs.

He observed the crowd. He seemed to do that a lot. At least that’s what his friend, Sam, told him on a daily basis. ‘You have a staring problem, man,’ he would say it with a disappointed look on his face, almost taunting him for letting his mind wander off to places he could only wish to be at right now. Really, he would like to be anywhere that was… not here.

The room swam in a concoction of blue and red lights, occasionally blinding the feigned “sexy firefighter” that was hiding away in the corner of the living room, having been rearranged to become an arena for horny college students, bumping and grinding each other’s asses to one another to obscene lyrics and an ear-bleeding bass. No, Bucky didn’t belong here. He felt out of place more so than often, thinking he would have been happier in another decade - another century, even. But since that was not possible, he had to make do with the world he was born into.

His head was already pounding. Not from the alcohol, though. It was a mixture of everything: The music - which was way too loud for his liking; the wild stage lights tumbling around the room and bouncing their lights from wall to wall, making him all dizzy in the process; and the constant tension in his body that was primarily caused by his current appearance. But Bucky wouldn’t lie, he was always tense. It was almost impossible not to be. He sought out the worst in every situation causing him to lose control over his muscles which ultimately lead to the staring problem referred to earlier and which he was probably engaging in right now. It brought some sort of control over situations for him. Observing people, quietly and unnoticed. Making himself a picture of their persona and then deciding that they were ridiculous. Everything was, really - if he thought about it. Why were they doing this? All for a quick hookup in a piss-reeking fraternity bathroom that probably left at least half of the people participating leave without proper satisfaction? Bullshit.

Bucky hadn’t always been this pathetic, no. Not until he had encountered enough wrongdoing in his life that made him decide that the world just wasn’t worth loving. Well… this opinion probably made his life a whole lot more miserable than it should be but Bucky learned to live with the little voice in his head seeking out the worst in situations like this one. He would much rather be in his bed, reading a book - just engage in anything more intellectual than what he was doing right now. He couldn’t even take himself seriously in this outfit Sam had picked out for him. His buddy and a couple of other friends all dressed as the sexy firing squad his college apparently ‘lacked and needed’ - so the words of Sam at least.

After another ten minutes of people watching and an uncomfortable encounter with a hammered PlayBoy Bunny that desperately threw herself onto him, Bucky downed his drink in one gulp and headed towards the kitchen in order to look for Sam and tell him that he was going to head home. This was getting preposterous, and he could seriously waste his time with a hundred other things.

Though Sam wasn’t too fond of his friend’s decision, he eventually let him go; and as soon as he managed to tear himself away from Sam’s intense beer pong session, Bucky bolted for the wardrobe to find his shirt and jacket.

When he stepped outside, he was immediately engulfed in a refreshing fall breeze. Finally being able to breathe air that wasn’t polluted with cigarette smoke and sweat was a nice feeling and Bucky tried to enjoy it as much as possible once he started his walk home. He passed a couple of buildings surrounding the street he was currently shuffling through before he finally entered the park area of Campus - away from the noise of Friday night parties and late-night traffic. He sauntered through the park in silence for a couple of minutes until he heard fast steps approaching from behind accompanied by loud giggles and shouts. When the couple rushed by him, almost knocking him off the path, he glared at their backs angrily. Fucking idiots. Their screams were heard for some time and just as Bucky was about to accept that his supposedly quiet and calming journey home would not be exactly that, the corners of his eyes caught onto a light reflecting off the wet leaves beside him.

Bucky stopped when he heard a rustling in the bushes next to the park bench he had passed. When he looked in its direction, he could only make out the usual greenery his path had to offer, but as he took another step to continue his journey, there was another crunching of leaves, followed by a soft ‘dang it’. Now that’s not how bushes usually sound like. Hands buried deep in the pockets of his pants, Bucky stepped on the grass and rounded the bench to take a look behind the plant barrier surrounding it.

There was a girl hunched behind it, about the same age as him. She was fiddling with her jacked that had apparently caught onto some branches and held her in an awkward half-crouch position. “What are you doing?” He asked the moment she managed to jerk the jacket from its restraints.

Bucky was met with big round y/e/c eyes that looked a little hazy. He couldn’t deny that she was quite pretty with the way the moonlit up her eyes, illuminating a bright glow within them. He nudged his head forward, urging her to talk as his curiosity got the better of him.

“I asked y-” But before he could finish his sentence, the girl reached up to his suspenders and forced him down in one swift motion.

“Shhhhhh!” Pushing her index finger to her lips, she scolded him and Bucky could smell the faint whiff of alcohol coming from her. She was tipsy - well, maybe even drunk considering that she was hiding behind a bush in the middle of the night. He was taken aback for a moment but gained his composure fairly quick. This was laughable.

“I'm gonna go” But his attempt to rise to his feet was stopped abruptly by a hand that yanked him down by his wrist, making the top of his head disappear behind the greens again. My god, she was stronger than she looked. She frantically exhaled: “No, you can’t go!” He dared her with his expression then, and harshly pulled his wrist out of her grasp. “They’re gonna see where I’m hiding. I can’t risk that!” She whisper-yelled at the brunette in front of her. Whatever it was she was doing, she was really engaged in it.

“What the fuck are you hiding for?!” He was frustrated. Stuck in yet another situation he didn’t anticipate and on top of that, he had to discuss some trivial shit when he could have already been in his shower by now.

“It’s the annual Halloween Hunt!” The girl explained a little too loudly as she covered her mouth a second after and ducked further behind the hedge. “Shoot, you think they heard us?” She peeked over the shrubbery, careful not to be seen by her friends. Bucky pulled a face that resembled confusion and annoyance at the same time. Though, he couldn’t help but find amusement in the way this 20-something-year-old college student was playing a kids' game in the middle of the night. Not even caring what anyone thought about her. Just having effortless and unhinged fun. He admired that, really. Bucky couldn’t even remember the last time he had genuinely found himself interested in something like this woman before him had. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he shared a legitimate laugh with someone. It was sad if he really thought about it. And he noticed anguish spread through his features that slowly drowned him in self-pity. Great. Now he was pissed at the stranger and she didn’t even do anything wrong.

“Okay, you can go now. I think the coast is clear.” Bucky stood up a second time. This time without being interrupted by the girl in front of him, still kneeling on the floor she mustered his stern look. “I’m sorry about that.” She smiled hesitantly before speaking up again. “Would you... uh… would you please not tell them where I’m hiding if they ask you?” His features softened at that. Wow, talk about mood swings.

Bucky tried to keep up a stoic expression while turning around and mumbling a frustrated ‘whatever’ before leaving in the direction of his dorm again. He did, however, not tell the guy asking about a y/h/c hair colored girl named Y/N, that he did in fact encounter someone hiding away. And he took a little pride in prolonging their game of hide and seek, giving the strange girl a chance to win. For the rest of the way, he thought about the weirdly endearing figure in the grass, testing out the name he assumed belonged to her and deciding that it was very fitting for her appearance and demeanor.

—

“You already have the personality of a grumpy grandpa.” Bucky looked up from his book with one eyebrow cocked. "Don’t you think you should at least try and let your actions make up for that, Pops?” A condescending huff was sent Sam’s way before Bucky’s face disappeared behind the book again.

“I'm not taking advice from you ever again” He flipped the page. “That shit party was your last chance and you blew it.”

“Oh c’mon, man!” Sam’s hands flew in the hair frustratedly. There was no answer from the body on the bed.

The pair had been bickering about the previous night for half an hour now. Sam was continuously trying to convince Bucky to go out with him again tonight and Bucky just wasn’t feeling it. Not only did that party take some precious time from his life that he would never get back; it also ended him up in an even weirder situation on the way home and Bucky wasn’t quite sure how to deal with the strange feelings he had to work with ever since.

“What? You’re just never going to leave your bed again?” If that’s what it takes. He thought while hovering his eyes over the word catching his attention on the page: help.

Being in new situations, surrounded by something he wasn’t familiar with had always brought a certain discomfort to Bucky. Not the good kind that made people grow as a person and all that shit. No, it made his anxiety spike and usually resulted in a sleepless night spent with overthinking and panic attacks. Sam knew that - he was his best friend and roommate, for God’s sake - and he had tried to help Bucky several times. It had worked a couple of them, too. Cause as much as Bucky hated to admit it, having Sam with him in these situations helped tremendously. But it didn’t change the fact that Bucky needed a time-out after these nights. Sam knew that, too. But he liked to argue with his best friend just as much as Bucky did. It was just a thing that made their friendship so unique. Because despite the constant teasing, each of them knew that the other would always be there for them if things came down to it.

This particular morning, however, was different. Bucky had actually slept very well, despite the awkward situation of the previous night. He even dreamt a little bit, which was weird, because Bucky could call himself lucky whenever he ended up sleeping without any recollection of the stories his mind made up during his slumber. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw those beautiful y/e/c eyes before him and it washed a calmness over his body that felt like a deep breath of fresh air. He couldn’t tell Sam that, though. He would tantalize him forever and Bucky wasn’t ready for that - not yet anyway. So he kept up his usual unbothered disposition in hopes of getting rid of his roommate for the rest of the day and having time to figure out what the fuck was going on.

—

Over the course of the following week, Bucky noticed the hide-and-seek-girl all over campus. He would get a coffee in the dining hall and he would see a y/h/c head of hair race by him with a binder in her hand that looked like it was about to burst with the amount of papers cramped in it. Or the other day, he was standing in front of the dean’s office, fumbling with the stupid zipper of his backpack when he heard fast footsteps approaching, and before he knew it a floral scent whipped by him, almost knocking him off his feet. Y/N seemed to always be in a hurry but Bucky would soon be learning that time was just not where her priorities lay. Because he saw her on a couple more occasions than that. One time, when he was walking through the park again, he spotted her standing under one of the trees peering up at the branches. He stopped for a moment, wondering what could have possibly been so interesting. His question was answered immediately when the girl squeezed out an excited giggle and seconds later a squirrel rushed his way, making him jump to the side. Fucking hell. What in the Disney princess shit was this? They even had a class together and Bucky really questioned his sanity at this point, considering that he never noticed her before. And it truly wasn’t hard to do so. She made her presence known in every room she entered. Whether that was in the form of heartfelt laughter that traveled over the heads of students to Bucky’s ears or just by zooming across a space at record speed.

The whole week felt like a fucking montage. And it played in Bucky’s head over and over again. It was safe to say that Y/N - at least he assumed that was her name - occupied his mind for the better part of each day and he didn’t know how to deal with it. He had never felt that way before. He couldn’t focus on his schoolwork, because he was thinking about what the girl would be doing right now, what other classes she was attending. Was she studying with a group of friends? Perhaps the one she had the Halloween Hunt with? Or was she watching a movie in her dorm? She seemed like more of a movie person than a bookworm, he thought. And then Bucky’s brain began to spiral, entering an endless cycle of what-ifs that ultimately lead to his not accomplishing much by the end of the day. Yeah… he was in deep and he fucking hated it. Who was he to let a stranger take over his senses like that? And how did it even happen, given that he didn’t know her name for sure - not to mention anything else that was just as superficial?

So two days into the second week after the Halloween party, Bucky decided that he had to do something about it. He wasn’t quite sure what that would be, but he was certain that something needed to change. And after another 72 hours - yes, he was counting hours of non-productivity now - of racking his head about it, his decision was fortunately or unfortunately - he wasn’t set on that yet - taken from him.

It was another boring Friday evening in the dining hall and Bucky was standing in line with a coffee ready to start his late-night study session, but not before he got a sandwich he needed to fuel the forthcoming all-nighter he was most likely about to pull due to his unproductive week. He was particularly grumpy today and the worst part was that he had nobody but himself to blame for the piles of assignments due Sunday night. He never really had a problem with deadlines. Always doing the bare minimum and using his critical discussion skills for the rest. It always got him good grades, anyway, so he didn’t see why he should put more effort into it than that. He had a 3.7 GPA and for the first time in the 2 years he had spent at NYU was that seriously endangered.

Bucky was looking at the menu above the counter to pass his time. He already knew what he wanted and for some reason, he didn’t feel like people watching. When he was about to step forward to catch up with the guy in front of him, he was shoved harshly in his left shoulder. His jaw locked as he was about to turn around to rain hellfire on the idiot that made him spill his coffee all over his sweater. But he suddenly froze in the process of opening his mouth when his eyes locked with the bright y/e/c he had come too familiar with over the past weeks. Her orbs flickered down to the brown stain in his sweatshirt slowly growing over his abdomen and a second later, her hands were waving in the air frantically.

“Oh, no! No, no, no. I AM SO SORRY!” Her voice was shaking and all Bucky could do was slowly reach up to still her wrists as they flailed through the blurred edges of his vision. His gaze was focused on her face. A face that hosted a scrunched nose and raised eyebrows that pulled on eyelids, which were framing fearful round eyes with soft lashes. It all felt like a dream and, for some reason, Bucky’s heart was pounding several beats faster than it should be. It seemed that the thoughts he had played with had intensified the feeling of her skin in his hands. Preventing him from doing anything but stare back at the panicked student in front of him. It took a couple of seconds for him to notice the stinging pain of the hot liquid on his shirt, but when he did, it yanked him out of the trance he was so helplessly stuck in moments before. He let her wrists fall from his grasp and proceeded to pull the wet fabric from his skin to ease the burning sensation he was enduring.

“Shit” He hissed through his teeth as he averted his gaze from her face and down to the mess she had created.

“I- Oh, God. Here let me help you.” She took a couple tissues from the counter next to them and dapped them on his hoodie, immediately soaking them with the hot liquid. Yeah, that wouldn’t do shit. But Bucky let her continue to soak another two fists full of paper towels before he stopped her with a simple head shake and a quiet laugh.

“This is not doing anything…” She roamed her eyes over the room before stopping on the wall behind Bucky’s shoulder. “Would you- could you come with me? I mean… I can try and get it out in the sink.” She tugged on his sleeve and started to walk in the direction of the dining hall bathrooms when Bucky almost moved his feet automatically. It was weird. He reacted to her like a machine to the push of a button. The hold on his sleeve was feather-light and Bucky struggled not to move his arm too much in fear of having it slip from her grasp. When they entered the bathroom, she immediately turned on the sink and dabbed the now wet paper towels to his torso continuously - allegedly.

“Here,” Bucky said as he stopped her by her wrists once again and shuffled to grab his hoodie by the hem to pull it over his head.

“Oh. You don’t have to… I-“ She paused, took a deep breath, and then started talking again. “You don’t need to take it off.” Bucky shook his head pulling the fabric up and off his body. “Please try to save it?” He handed it to her with a sheepish look on his face, trying to hide the way his heartbeat quickened when he caught her eyes hovering over his torso for a moment before she grabbed the item of clothing from him.

If he was being honest, he just looked for an excuse to be in her presence for a while longer. It eased his mind because he no longer had to wonder what she was doing. The freedom faded quickly, though, as his brain started to figure out what she was thinking about. Now, that was a problem that was harder to solve. Bucky scratched the back of his neck as she proceeded to wash the hoodie with water provisionally. He had to say something to cut through the suffocating silence.

He brushed a loose strand of hair being his ear before he spoke: “You’re the bush girl.” Wow, that definitely came out wrong. Good fucking job, bro. Bucky’s suspicion was only intensified by the funny look she shot at him. “Halloween, the hide and seek game.” The brunette elaborated. Her hands stilled under the stream of water for a bit. She was thinking.

And then her features brightened. “You were the firefighter!” She laughed and continued to rub the fabric again.

“It’s Bucky, actually.”

“Bucky… that’s very unique. I like it.” His heart warmed at that.

“I’m Y/N.” He knew that… kind of. But for some reason, confirming that the name he had referred her by in his head over the past two weeks, made him really excited. Her name was just as beautiful as her. And for some reason, he thought he would never be able to match another face to that name again. Simply, because she fit it so well, so perfectly. Bucky seriously had to collect himself again. Being in this state of mind felt strange and not like him at all. Get it together. So he cleared his throat, straightened his stance, and waited for her to finish washing.

“How did the game turn out?” Y/N grinned at that, staring down at the sink.

“I actually won.” Attagirl! He smiled with the thought wedged in his brain. Bucky felt weirdly proud of the almost stranger before him. Okay, maybe she wasn’t a stranger anymore. Not for him at least. She had occupied his mind too much, it almost felt like he had known her for a lot longer - and he still didn’t even know her last name. He watched as Y/N blowdried his hoodie under the hand dryer before she handed it back to him.

“Here you go. I hope that will do it. If not I can get you a new one.”

He gathered the courage for his next words as he pulled the sweater over his head again, taking some extra time before he’s finished putting his arms through the sleeves. “How about you get me a new coffee. I think I could really use one now.”

Her eyes shifted up to him, searching for a falter in his expression or the hint of sarcasm, but she wouldn’t find any of that. “Yeah, okay. I can do that.” She smiled. Her smile was mesmerizing and Bucky already felt it etching into his brain.

Y/N led him back to the food court and made him choose the cafe of his liking before they sat down by the counter with the grumpy barista behind it. It was quiet between the pair for a while and Y/N looked as though she was just as clueless about the topics appropriate for this meeting as he was. They weren’t really friends but they weren’t strangers either. It was a weird dynamic but Bucky was willing to push it in another direction. Even if it just provided him with a couple more info about the girl in front of him that could hopefully make his damn mind stop from soaring day and night.

“So… Uh what are you studying? Because I know we have that one class together but that doesn’t mean anything, you know?” She offered with a sly smile, hiding her face behind the rim of her coffee mug.

“I’m a Philosophy major, actually,” Bucky answered suddenly flustered for some reason. He never cared what people thought about him and what he did but it seemed that his body was utterly focused on what she would say to the answer he had given her.

“Oh, that’s so interesting! ‘God is dead! He remains dead! And we have killed him.’” She quoted with a fist in the air “Wasn’t that this dead German guy? I like his dramatics.”

“Friedrich Nietzsche, yes.” Bucky chuckled, in awe by the worldliness of the woman before him.

“So what’s it like to be worldly-wise and have the knowledge of existence resting on your shoulders?” Bucky wasn’t expecting the confidence after the stammering mess she had presented herself as seconds before but it was a refreshing change.

“All I know is that I know nothing.” He nodded with a slight smile. Still not sure if this was a game he was willing to play, he quietly added: “Socrates” But it was more directed to his mug than Y/N.

“If this is your way of teaching me some things, I’m all in. I love learning new stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky��s interest was genuine. There was just something about Y/N that drew him in and kept him yearning for more.

“Yeah… It’s probably the reason I’ve changed majors a couple times too many” Her shoulders shrugged and her mouth pulled into a tight-lipped smile. As if she was telling him that there was nothing she could change about it. “Still not sure if I’m gonna stick with the one I currently have” She laughed and Bucky swore it was the most beautiful sound in the entire fucking world. He’d do anything to hear it over and over again.

“Shit. Seems like you’ll make some dangerous competition in the wisdom area then. Do I need to fear my status?” He focused on his coffee but the weak jump in his peripheral didn’t go unnoticed by the brunette.

“God, no! You go ahead and philosophize over life and death. I’ll be over here engaging in the hands-on work.”

“So you’re an artist?”

“I try to be.”

“Come on. I'm sure you have some decent talent!”

She laughed, flustered and timidly before tangling her right hand in a strand of hair. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“And why is that?” Bucky pushed leaning forward and placing his forearms on his thighs.

"I tend to be a little… clumsy.”

“You don’t say.” He had to suppress a laugh and it felt weird. He hasn’t had to do that for quite some time.

Y/N huffed at his comment but her face turned into a concerted one a second later. What was she so sorry about? After all, they got a pretty nice conversation out of her clumsiness. Maybe she doesn’t wanna hang out with you. His coincides tried to convey, playing the little devil on his shoulder that would constantly tell him about the worst of all outcomes. The voice that had managed to triumph over the quiet, calming, and reassuring one that had given up on countering its opponent ages ago. Though it seemed to fight its way back to the surface with Y/N around. Bucky felt it in a strange way. It was as if something was lifting a tiny piece of the weight settled on his shoulders, making it easier to think on his own. It was nice - deliberating.

“Can’t clumsy be a good thing? Maybe it’s gonna determine your unique style of art… somehow.” It felt strange to say something so optimistic. But it had happened without Bucky’s control and before he could think about it, it had already left his lips. Her eyes lit up at that and Bucky’s regret disappeared into thin air. Big y/e/c orbs directed at him and boring into his soul. The fucking hold this girl had on him was beyond anything he ever experienced.

“That's a nice way of looking at it. Maybe ill try to embrace it next time.” It felt nice to be heard. To be appreciated instead of shrug off with another sarcastic comment like he and his friends always did.

What the fuck are you doing? If she’s bad at art she should just stop. “Yeah, whatever.” He willed the voice away, conflicted with his mind and body, feeling strange in his own skin.

“So… uh. Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving? I’m thinking of surprising my Grandma. She lives in Florida and can’t really come up here anymore, so I thought it would be nice to see her…” Yeah, she had definitely noticed his change of demeanor and she probably thought he was strange, too. So, now, Bucky was stuck watching her fill the awkward silence, listening to another 3 minutes of Y/N talking about her Grandparents and how her grandpa had died last year, and - Oh, shit. Her grandpa died? That’s sad. He should probably console her. But Bucky didn’t get a chance to, because she had already moved on to another topic, most certainly ignoring his stone-cold response to the passing of her family member. Fucking asshole. Look what you’ve done. “…but I thought it would be a nice present for her backyard, so I’ll have to try again until it doesn’t look like a drunk Picasso anymore.”

Bucky nodded with a tight-lipped smile and went to sip on his coffee again when he noticed that it was already empty. “Oh, god. I’m boring you, aren’t I? I am so sorry. I-“

“No, no. It’s okay. I’m not much of a talker.” Bucky tried to lighten the mood.

“I figured as much.” She pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, making the ring on her hand shimmer from the light fixed to the ceiling. As much as Bucky wanted to spend the rest of the fucking night at this very table with her, he had to get that paper done.

“I’m sorry… I really like listening to you. It’s just that- I have a paper due on Sunday and I haven’t even started yet.” Y/N face fell a little at his words, but she built it back up as fast as possible, trying not to get caught but Bucky noticed. Like he noticed everything about her. It came from his decade-long habit of people watching, but that still didn’t stop his heart from sinking a little deeper in his stomach. He hated to see her hut, but he hated it even more that his words were what caused her to be that way. He had to make it up to her but he also had to write that goddamn paper. Fucking hell. When did College become so stressful? Oh, that’s right - when a gorgeous y/h/c hair-colored girl entered his life and messed with his head without even intending to.

“Oh, okay. Well, I don’t wanna hold you up any longer, then.” Y/N emptied her cup in one last gulp before standing up and pushing the chair back under the table. Bucky copied her actions.

“I really am sorry, Y/N.”

“That’s alright.” Her hand waved off the comment, though he couldn't shake the feeling that his comment had hurt her a little.

“I’ll see you around.” It was more of a question than a statement, really. But Bucky didn’t want to sound desperate. He just hoped that she would reassure him, quietly.

“I certainly hope so, Bucky.” She smiled. And then she turned away, letting fast steps carry her off to the door of the hall and disappearing behind the walls of the building. He saw her head bounce outside the window for a couple more seconds, making his heartbeat pick up a little, and then she was gone. Bucky stood there for a moment, staring at the window through which he had seen her last and clenching his hands into fists, opening them again to drag them over his face in an attempt to wipe the creepy stare off his features. This was not at all how he wanted it to go.

—

Monday 00:03 am. And Bucky was up at the library sitting in front of his computer, staring at the green rectangle that told him he had just handed in his homework in time. He was tired and tense, even though he had finally checked this shit assignment off his to-do list. The fucking assignment that made him look like an asshole to the gorgeous hide-and-seek-girl and that was the reason her smile had left her beautiful face for a second. So why was he not relieved? Why was he not on his way to his dorm, ready to fall into yet another dreamy slumber filled with images of the girl that had spilled his coffee all over his shirt? Well, it was because Bucky felt that tonight was not going to be as peaceful as the previous ones had been. He felt it - the brooding uneasiness taking over his body in an uncomfortable tingle that spread like goosebumps over his spine. He wasn’t surprised, though. It couldn’t have lasted forever. Nothing good ever lasted forever. At least not for him. Yeah, tonight was gonna be hell.

He slowly leaned back in his chair folding his arms over his head as he tipped it back slightly, stretching over the wooden barrier that dug into his shoulder blades.

“Fuck.” He whispered into the crook of his elbow, already regretting the decision he had made. He stood up, packed his things, and headed for the door.

Bucky walked through the park area of Campus again. Slow and steady steps took him forward at a painfully gradual pace. Even though it was cold out and Bucky was only tugged in his leather jacket, he dragged out the time it took him to get back to his bed. Sam would probably still be up anyway, playing his stupid flight simulator video game which made astonishingly annoying noises that Bucky could hear through his headphones. Of course, he knew he couldn’t be outside forever, but something in him kept him from entertaining the few hours of proper sleep he would usually get on a Sunday night.

As he kicked at the brown leaves on the ground, his mind began to wander. He hadn’t seen Y/N since the awkward coffee occurrence and he wondered what she had done over the weekend. It shouldn’t surprise him, Bucky had practically been living behind his computer screen, using every minute of the past three days to work on his assignment. Maybe Y/N had been doing the same. Or maybe she was just in some atelier, trying out the weird advice he had given her right before he became an asshole towards her again. Seriously, why was that bothering him so much? Bucky never cared what other people thought of him. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was a hand full of people whose opinion he really valued. But usually, weird late-night encounters with strangers didn’t make the cut. Except one. Except Y/N.

As he was about to turn left towards the residence halls, Bucky’s eyes caught an orange and green shine through the bare branches of the trees. Oh, how convenient! Something that would distract him from the dreadful night he was about to start. With a twitch of his mouth, Bucky changed his course and headed deeper into the park, following the artificial lights that grew brighter with every step.

Before he knew it, his feet had taken him to a green area that had been raked free of all leaves. There were bright orange and green lights hanging from the branches of the trees, building an angular shape about half the size of the lot. The thick light ropes span over the area like a make-shift roof and off of them - on other parallel treads - hung plastic leaves, each carefully crafted with different types of fall-colored materials and alternating distances from the floor. Between the arranged lampion-like art pieces, there were more, smaller lights, hanging perpendicular to the floor and functioning to illuminate the pendants from the side. It was truly breathtaking. Walking further, Bucky felt as if he had entered an entirely different planet. The pieces spun in the wind lightly, reflecting some of the softer yellow hues back to different areas of the park and to the ground. The grass was illuminated by kaleidoscope-like shapes. All colors mixed from the vibrant lights and the see-through plastic leaves. There was sound, too. A calming chime that rung through the arrangement like white noise, mixing with the wind - no. It was controlled by the wind. Bucky stepped even deeper into the place, ogling every piece like a kid in the candy store. There, in-between the many ropes and lines and shapes, were small metallic-silvery cylinders that acted as wind chimes.

Enchanted by the environment surrounding him, Bucky wandered through the area, carefully dodging the delicate crafts and dragging his eyes over each one he passed, to admire its features. After a while, he stopped, spun around in the middle of the fixtures, and let his senses be overstimulated. But as he spun, he spotted a slight break in the pattern that was so evenly spread across the ground. The triangles and other free shapes warped on one spot on the ground a couple feet away from him. It was a person, laying on the ground with their limbs stretched to either side of their body. Face turned up towards the lights and chest rising and falling in a steady motion. Who in their right mind would lay on the moist ground in the middle of the night like that? Bucky had to know.

Approaching the person quietly, he placed his backpack on the ground serenely when he noticed who it was he was so shamelessly watching. In fact, the very girl that lay there under the lights, letting the scene take over her, was none other than Y/N. Bucky felt a tug in his heart, reminding him of a feeling he had not noticed over the past few days. But when he saw her right in front of him, he recognized it as something that must have been incredibly close to missing somebody. He had missed her and he didn’t even know it.

When she noticed his steps come to a stop next to her, she slowly opened her eyes. She sat up as soon as she recognized who had intruded her moment, letting a smile take its place on her face.

“Bucky!” He ignored the jump in his chest as she laced his name with so much joy.

“What is this here?” He gestured to the fixtures surrounding them. Glancing around once again.

“It's a Thanksgiving project from my art class. We’ve been building it up tonight to test it before it’s officially portrayed tomorrow.” Y/N bit her lip. “Here.” She patted the grass next to her to signal him that he should take a seat next to her. Bucky just looked at her with a blank stare, not really processing her demands.

“It’s supposed to be looked at standing up so that you see all the leaves hanging like a cloud, but I find it much better from down here.” She gently pulled on his right hand, making him sit down eventually. “I just feel like it sounds better when the wind is not gushing in your ears. You can hear the chimes way clearer when you lay down.”

Bucky was still mute, distracted by the touch of her fingers around his hand. When she let go to push on his shoulders, he regained control over his body again, but he let her guide him to the ground completely first. Y/N laid down next to him, watching the materials above her head. Bucky just watched her profile being faintly lit by the colorful shapes. It was incredibly hypnotizing, and he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

“You did this?” He spoke in awe, still training his eyes on her features.

She turned her head towards him on the ground, facing Bucky directly. “It was supposed to be a surprise. Nobody was supposed to see it just yet.” Bucky raised his eyebrow at her. Y/N just shook her head before continuing. “I guess we didn’t do a good job at hiding it, huh?”

And then he laughed. He fucking laughed. His lips pushed deeper into his cheeks and the rumble of his chest surprised even Bucky as the unfamiliar sound made its way across the lawn. It felt foreign but homey at the same time. Like coming home to a family he hadn’t seen in a while. What the hell was happening? And why the fuck did he not do that sooner. It was like being on crack. Endorphins shot through his body, warming him up from the inside. Nice, safe, and effortless. - lifting tension he didn’t even know he was lugging.

When his breathing evened out again, Bucky suddenly realized the position the pair was in. Laying on the cold but calming grass next to Y/N, he could almost feel their hands touching again. His fingers twitched to test just how far she was really from him and found out that it was way closer than he thought.

The situation seemed way too intimate for an almost stranger and Bucky couldn’t push away the feeling of slight discomfort with the moment they shared. He felt it again, this ongoing banter between the gradually stronger growing good voice, arguing with the devil on his shoulder. Take her hand - No, do you want her to think you’re a fucking creep - it’s not creepy, it’s sweet - the fuck it’s not, it’s intrusive - he likes her, let him take her hand - no fucking way. And then the soft voice was gone again. Suppressed by the cold and evil red one sulking in its reign for far too long now. His brain was in a blender. Unable to deal with its most mundane functions and Bucky suddenly felt the need to count his breaths to make sure that he kept getting oxygen into his system. But still, he remained stiff next to her, not daring to move an inch away or closer. Closing his eyes, he let the colors dance over his eyelids, hypnotizing him in the most pleasant of ways.

“Hey, Y/N?”

Y/N hummed in response, urging him to keep talking while she remained with her eyes closed as well. He was looking at her again.

“Any chance I get to make up for that coffee date I ruined.”

She chuckled and her nose scrunched up adorably. “You didn’t ruin anything, Bucky. It was my fault we needed to get coffee in the first place.” Needed - That didn’t sound like it was forced at all. Her tone was calming and content and after a couple seconds of silence on Bucky’s part, she spoke again. Probably trying to ease the uncertainty that had crawled up his neck. “But I’d love to get another with you.” She turned her head to him again smiling brightly at his already turned face.

“Good… that’s good.” He shifted his gaze back to the lights as his lips tugged into a shy smile as well. Maybe good things did happen to Bucky every once in a while.

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moonctzeny · 3 years

Text

champagne sins

pairing: socialite! johnny x fem! reader

genre: smut

word count: 1,714

warnings: alcohol consumption, slight voyerism, slight degradation

a/n: I blame @sehunniepot for this

general taglist: @naomis-sins , @slightlymore-main , @jjaeyoonoh, @ichbinschnappi, @infnteen , @markresonates , @babyksworld

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You love the way your new designer dress hugs your figure tonight, sparkly fabric reflecting the light and making everything around you glow. You love the way the champagne bubbles tickle your tastebuds with their sour taste, on your third glass already and with no intention of stopping anytime soon. You especially love having Johnny eat you up with his eyes from the other side of the room, his honey-colored stare having an iron grip on you.

Letting your body move on its own accord and with a wobble in your step you walk over to where he’s standing, large body resting sideways on the decorated wall. Johnny’s a socialite, yet if you asked him what he did for a living you’d get a different answer every time. He’s a DJ at the biggest club in town, he’s a reality star, he owns real estate. Maybe he’s one of those pretty boys you pay handsomely to loop your arms around for the rest of the night.

And you don’t blame anyone that would want to have Johnny like this, hard to resist with this combination of tall height, dark locks, and even darker intentions. Tonight, he looks more expensive than all your jewelry combined with those leather pants that melt right over his thighs. He’d left the top button of his satin shirt unfastened, teasing you with his smooth, tanned skin, and you take the first leap of immorality by loosening the second one yourself. You’re endlessly jealous of those pearls for getting to loop around his neck.

“Undressing me before even saying hi?”

“Hi. Now can I do one more?”

He chuckles and you take it as a sign to hook your index on the third buttonhole, revealing the top row of his abs. They’re covered in small glitter particles from last night’s fun and you envision the masterpiece you could create with just some lipstick and your fingernails. A sweet smell hazes your mind further, a mixture of his cologne and that caramel-scented e-cig he likes nursing so much.

He hums while still frustratingly keeping his hands to himself, towering over you with his broad shoulders and crushing the surge of confidence caused by the liquid courage, “What has you so naughty tonight baby girl?”

“You”

He loves having people inflate his ego and you know how to take advantage of this fact very well. He pushes back his long bangs with his hand, wet from the heat in the penthouse and finally pulling you closer with the other. His rings dig right over the dimples on your back, just low enough to toy with what’s considered inappropriate in a room full of people. Not that anyone cares, really; everyone is high on the substance of their choice and Johnny is just simply your favorite of vices.

“Naughty, naughty girl”, he muses and you follow his lips like you’re hypnotized, enjoying the degrading way he kisses his teeth.

“You know, when you pretend to be all righteous it makes me wanna fuck you even more”, you bite back and something changes in his eyes, pupils expanding like a big black hole that’s about to swallow you entirely.

His fingers leave his scalp to now grab onto your jaw, thumb hindering the blood from going to your head and forcing you to look away from the tattoo on his chest. You’re so close now that you notice his tongue is toying with some blue-colored candy, its original spherical shape now being a mere wafer-thin piece of sugar.

“You didn’t have a mouth this dirty last time I saw you”

“I thought you loved my mouth”

He grins at your wits, flashing you the same million-dollar smile that gets him free drinks and pretty people at his feet at all times before finally planting his lips on yours.

You think that out of all Johnny’s beauteous features, his lips have to be your favorite ones. Bow shaped and soft, they beg you to suck, nibble, and bruise them, the other party invitees be damned. His right hand, previously resting on your waist, is now grabbing your ass shamelessly, and he takes advantage of the gasp you let out to press the remaining candy against your own tongue. You’re so preoccupied with the way he twirls in your mouth that you’ve pliantly allowed him to corner you between the wall and his body, and when he starts to lick right over the middle of your throat you don’t know if the room is spinning because of the champagne or him.

“Fuck”, you mutter as your half-lidded eyes stare into the ceiling, a familiar hardness poking the top of your thigh.

“Language”, he scolds you against your skin, with a tone so cold you don’t know how it spreads so much warmth to your body, “Good girls don’t swear”

“What if I want to be bad?”

“Follow me”

You weed your way between the groups of beautiful people, grabbing a glass of champagne on the way, until you reach what seems to be the door to the party thrower’s office. A big “DON’T ENTER” sign hangs from the knob and Johnny throws it to the confetti-filled floor without the slightest guilt, leading you inside the study.

It’s a spacious room, with full-length windows and a mahogany desk placed in front of a filled bookshelf. You don’t even manage to ask him where he wants you when he starts ravaging your neck again, his big body making you backtrack to the reclining leather chair in the end of the office. Unadulterated arousal pulses through you with every bite he leaves behind, and you push him down onto the seat, momentarily enjoying the view of him sprawled like that just for you.

Impatiently, Johnny grabs the back of your bare thighs, pulling you on top of him, and you quickly start to unfasten his braided black belt. Endlessly entertained by the thought of messing with you, he starts petting over the skimpy fabric of your underwear in an effort to distract you. It works, with your fingers shaking as they try to push his pants below his hips while his own start circling around your swollen clit.

A pitiful sob graces his ears as he pushes your soaked up panties to the side, petting your raw pussy that drips with a mess you’ve made just for him. You move your hand between his thighs in retaliation when he pushes two fingers inside you, working him into his full length as your moans harmonize into the most filthy of tunes.

“Tightest fucking pussy. Dripping wet too. Did I do this, pretty girl? Or was I just your victim for the night?”

“Just for you”, you moan out as you move along with his fingers inside you, your hand gliding easily over his cock with the aid of his precum.

He looks so fucking good like that; all messy and sweaty and all yours that you tug the bottom parts of his shirt away from one another, buttons breaking and dancing all over the floor.

“That was expensive”, he mentions playfully just to tease you, knowing damn well this shirt was nothing compared to Johnny’s net worth.

“And I’m priceless”

You take the glass of champagne that you’d left on the floor and start to spill some of the bubbly liquid over his chest, watching manically as it travels through the lines of his abs. The pale moonlight that seeps through the window kisses the wet skin, making him look irresistible as you lean down to suck the drink from the hollows where his muscles connect. Johnny weaves his fingers through your locks and giggles at the feeling, shivering when you reach his happy trail.

“Had enough of a taste?”

“I need one more thing”, you purr and take a condom out of your purse. He strokes his cock lazily as you open the foil carefully, eyeing you hungrily in the meantime, as if he hasn’t taken a good look at you already. When you’re done slipping the condom over his shaft you line the throbbing member to your opening, mentally preparing yourself for the girth you know is about to come.

A breathy whine leaves your lips when he slips fully inside you, and the way Johnny stretches you out already has you seeing stars.

Languidly but full of pleasure you start to circle your hips over him, enjoying the blinking light of the city that falls to your feet. A fleeting feeling of panic surges through you when you see all the people on the road and the balconies of the lower buildings, feeling even more exposed than you already are.

“Johnny, what if someone sees us?”, you ask him innocently but never once do you stop grinding your hips, making him smile at the empty question.

“I thought you wanted to be bad? Not a good girl anymore?”, he teases and thrusts his hips forward without a warning, making you shriek with how deep he reaches inside you. “A naughty, filthy girl that wants my cock in a party full of guests and with the whole city watching.”

He lifts his hand to drag down the fabric of your top, successfully freeing your chest and exposing you even more, loving the way your boobs look as you ride him.

“You think that just because anyone that happens to look up to see you being all slutty for me I’m not gonna fuck you against every surface in this room?”

You whimper at this promise, and your experience with him vouches that it will soon turn into reality.

“Please”, he scoffs, “you better bounce”

#it’s 3:30 am #neosmutcollective #neowritingsnet #johnny suh smut #johnny seo smut #johnny suh #nct 127 #nct smut #johnny smut #johnny scenarios #johnny x reader #johnny imagines #suh johnny #johnny fanfic

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wazzupmrstark · 3 years

Text

instead of you [part fourteen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption

word count: 2.6k

series masterlist

“Just that you’re not technically a chef yet,” Tom explained defensively. “You’re not certified.”

“A chef doesn’t need a piece of paper to call themselves a chef,” Leo countered. “Anyone can be a chef. But don’t tell the WAC I said that.”

“Yeah, Tom haven’t you ever seen Ratatouille?” you teased.

“Great movie,” Leo added. “Sam, great job on your dough,” he reiterated.

Sam stuck his tongue out at his brother across the table who rolled his eyes in response as Leo picked up his ball of dough and rolled it in his hands.

“Tom, yours is still a little tough. Keep working on it.”

He nodded and took his dough back to continue kneading it. You noticed his jaw clenched subtly in frustration, but he didn’t say anything else. You watched as he rolled the pasta dough with a little more force, maybe a little too much.

Leo checked yours next and gave you similar feedback to Tom’s, even though Sam had helped you with yours. You didn’t want to think about what kind of feedback you would have gotten on your own.

Your dough was still flaking apart when you went back to working on it, and you tried desperately to hold it together with little success. Sam had left your side to help his mom so you were on your own.

At least Tom was also struggling. You felt a little better knowing he was miserable too.

You were starting to sweat with effort, you were so out of shape that even cooking had you catching your breath. You had thought this was going to be fun, but instead you were having flashbacks to high school P.E. class.

Leo made his way down the rest of the table and checked everyone else’s dough before circling back to you and Tom. He took over for Tom and instructed Sam to finish kneading yours so that he could move on with the lesson. It was embarrassing to be singled out, but Sam assured you it wasn’t your fault. He wasn’t making much progress with yours either.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with yours,” Sam whispered to you.

“I probably did it wrong,” you hissed back.

“I watched you do it, you did it the same way as everyone else.”

“Then why is it being like this?”

“Sometimes food has a mind of its own,” Leo interjected, making you realize the entire class had been listening to you and Sam’s back and forth. “This is good enough, though. We can set it aside with the other balls of dough to let them rest while we make the fillings.”

You and Tom set your sad pasta balls on the counter with the others before moving to the sink to rinse your hands.

“I think they’ll still taste good,” Tom said thoughtfully as he offered the bottle of soap to you and pumped some into your hands.

“I hope so.”

“It’s pasta, it’s almost impossible to fuck it up.”

“Yet somehow we still managed to.”

“Some would say it’s talent,” he said and shrugged.

You bumped his shoulder with your own as you fought over the water stream. You managed to stick your hands in first and Tom put his above yours only for you to shove them away.

“Hey!”

“You’re completely ruining the purpose of washing my hands!”

“I have soap on my hands, you have soap on your hands, what's the issue?”

“And you’re washing off your germs and they’re going on my hands now!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll wait my turn,” he seceded and let you finish washing your hands before he rinsed off his own.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Making the fillings for the pasta was a much simpler process than making the dough. All you had to do was mix certain ingredients together. It didn’t matter what order you added them, if you whisked fast or slow, the only important thing was that everything made it into the bowl one way or another.

You worked in pairs for this step. Sam mixed together the pesto filling while you did the parmesan-truffle one.

“This is different than the pesto I make,” he said, looking at the mixture in his bowl.

You frowned. “But I like your pesto.”

“It’ll still be good, baby,” he assured you with a kiss to the forehead. “Don’t worry.”

When the fillings were done it was time to revisit the balls of dough and roll them into pasta. Sam explained it to you like rolling Play-Doh, but it was far more difficult in your opinion. Play-Doh was nowhere near as stubborn as this. The pasta dough somehow retained tension, and would bounce back every time you tried to stretch it.

Sam ended up having to help you and Tom because both of you were starting at a disadvantage with your fucked up dough.

“I never want to hear you say I have it easier than you ever again,” Sam warned as he folded your strands of dough into raviolis.

The class had moved on to the final step, shaping and filling the noodles, but you had already tapped out. Sam was done with his portion before you had even finished one so he had taken over for you.

“I’m sorry for saying that,” you said, remembering all the times you had teased him for stressing out over his ‘soufflé final’ or ‘crepe labs’. “I would much rather be writing a paper right now.”

He shrugged. “Everyone has their strengths.”

“I’m starting to think that Ratatouille movie was bullshit,” you groaned.

“How ironic,” Tom snorted across from you.

He was really starting to get on your nerves. But you let his comment go, not allowing your temper to get the better of you. He was still Sam’s family, even if they had a... complicated relationship.

When the class finally settled in the dining room of the restaurant to eat you were sweaty, sore, and exhausted. You could feel your skin sticking to the leather seat, and you felt severely underdressed. Back in the kitchen you hadn’t been so self-conscious. But now you couldn’t stop thinking about your appearance.

The atmosphere was much more sophisticated. The lights were dim, and soft music played in the background. All of the other guests were following an unspoken black-tie dress code while the fifteen of you were still wearing your disposable aprons, only now they were covered in flour and egg yolk.

And to make it worse-

“Smile!”

Nikki held up her phone and motioned for you and Sam to scoot your chairs closer together. You took a deep breath and complied, leaning your head against your fake boyfriend’s and managing a grin. You really didn’t want this moment to be immortalized, but you didn’t want to be difficult either.

The camera flashed once, then again. Sam wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled your body against his, pressing a kiss to your cheek for another picture. You scrunched up your face as the flash went off, the tickle of his breath against your skin and the feather-light touch of his lips making you squeeze your eyes shut.

“That’s a good one!” Nikki complimented, even though you were sure it wasn’t as flattering as she was making it out to be.

The pasta was served with a glass of red wine for everyone. Sam was right, the pesto was different from his, but it was still good. It was no match for his recipe, but the handmade pasta did give it a few bonus points. You were sure you hadn’t gotten any of the noodles you made because all of the ones on your plate were perfect. It didn’t feel fair that you got to enjoy somebody else’s hard work while they got your shitty excuse of a ravioli.

But as the wine dwindled from your glass the negative thoughts began to ebb away too. Your muscles, though still sore, relaxed slightly and you rested your head on Sam’s shoulder as everyone else finished their meals around you. The conversation carried on without your contribution. Your social battery had died hours ago, but you were content to listen to the Hollands chat with other students at the table.

You weren’t a huge fan of wine, but the one served with dinner was palatable, and to be honest you weren’t one to turn down complimentary alcohol anyway. It tasted more expensive than anything you had ever drank, like the equivalent of velvet on your tongue. You finished your glass and the rest of Harry’s.

The next few days in Florence passed in a similar fashion. You ate a lot of carbs, drank a lot of alcohol and let the business of the itinerary overwhelm you. It was getting tiring, living in an act. Trailing along behind the Hollands like a dog, worn on Sam’s arm like an accessory.

You had known what you were getting into, and you were trying your best to enjoy the experiences- because who the fuck knows when you’ll ever get to go on such a nice vacation again, but pretending to be in love with your best friend was a harder feat than you had thought.

It felt like being in a school play. Every move and phrase had to be intentional. You tread the lines of your relationship with rehearsed expertise. And you had to watch what you said, because everyone’s eyes were on you. At least that’s what it felt like.

Sam’s parents were easy. They fully bought into your lie, seeing what they wanted to. They usually left you to your own devices, too. His brothers were the ones who needed convincing. Not even Harry, though. Tom was the problem. Tom was always the problem.

You were in Rome now, walking back to the hotel from the Colosseum. Sam had his arm slung around your shoulders and was talking his twin brother’s ear off about the Gladiators and inaccuracies in films about Ancient Rome.

You didn’t think you’d seen him this excited the entire trip. It was cute, the way he talked with his hands and looked off into the distance whenever he was really engaged in something. Harry was also cute. He was trying his best to keep up with Sam, nodding his head at all the right points, asking questions when there was a pause in conversation.

“Yeah, gladiators fucking unionized,” Sam explained. “They put their lives on the line all the time, ya know? Might as well get benefits.”

“If I was a gladiator I’d join their union,” you said, adding to the conversation for the first time in a while.

“There were women gladiators too, babe! You totally could’ve been one.”

You laughed. “You remember my season on the intramural dodgeball team? I wouldn’t last a day. But I appreciate the thought, Sammy.”

You had dinner in the restaurant attached to the hotel lobby. Nikki passed around her Canon for everyone to look through the pictures from the day while a bottle of limoncello was passed around the table.

You’d scarfed down your pasta and passed on dessert in favor of another shot of limoncello. Rookie mistake.

In the past the sugary drink had always tasted like cough syrup to you, but this batch tasted like straight-up lemonade. You were tipsy, bordering on drunk, but nowhere near blacked. Nikki and Dom turned in around shot three, leaving the tab open for the four of you. Sam went upstairs next, having gone too hard too fast on the limoncello (he was on shot five when his parents went back to their room).

Then it was just You, Harry, and Tom. You told Sam you’d join him in a bit after the pianist played a couple more songs. In all honesty, the music reminded you of Sam. Back at school you could always find Sam in the music hall if he wasn’t in the culinary building. You’d always hear him playing as soon as you walked through the double doors. You could always tell it was him at the keys by the way the playing sounded. He was self-taught, but still a genius in your mind. He didn’t need any formal training to make beautiful music, and that’s what you loved about it.

When he moved out of the dorms and into an apartment he bought a keyboard, and you’d spend nights together in his room illegally pirating sheet music for him to learn new songs. He’d play whatever you requested, and if he didn’t know how to play it he’d teach himself.

The pianist in the restaurant played with a little more expertise. The notes sounded refined, perfected. Sam always told you that perfect music was restrained music, that real music had flaws, that a song should sound a little different every time it was played.

After an encore of Beethoven the man at the piano stood from his bench and took a bow, passing his hat around the room to collect tips. Tom dropped a bill into the hat and you did as well, handing it back to the man afterwards. He dumped the contents of the hat into a briefcase and closed the lid of the piano, thanking everyone in the audience for their donations.

“Well, I think I’m going to head up now,” Harry said, yawning for emphasis. “We still have to get up at the ass crack of dawn even though we’ll all probably be hungover.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tom said cockily, then turned to you. “One more shot?”

The bottle of limoncello was almost empty anyway. Might as well finish it off, it’d be a shame to let it go to waste, right?

“Hit me.”

“God, you’re both going to be so fucked tomorrow,” Harry groaned.

“We’ll be fine,” Tom insisted, rolling his eyes at his younger brother.

“Good night, Harry,” you sang, waving at him as he walked off.

“Yeah whatever.”

Tom wasted no time pouring you both a shot of what was left of the limoncello. The restaurant was beginning to clear out so he worked fast, filling the glasses up to the marked line. You both took one and clinked them together before throwing them back.

You winced at the burning sensation in the back of your throat and put the glass back on the table, searching for something to chase the shot with. Your eyes fell to Tom, lingering on his cheeks, his lips, both pink from the alcohol or something else. You flicked your gaze down to his neck, his collarbone that was peeking out from the neckline of his shirt. You thought about how it would feel to kiss him there, to run your tongue over a love bite you’d given him.

You forced your gaze back to his eyes, hoping he hadn’t caught you staring. You had to act uninterested, you couldn’t let on to- but he was staring back. His eyes were intense, and almost impossible to read in the darkness of the room. You knew you should look away, knew you had to keep up appearances, but you couldn’t.

Later you’d blame it on the alcohol, but in that moment you knew the limoncello wasn’t what was making your head spin, or your what was making your vision cloudy.

You were about to leave the table, about to rush to the elevator and back to Sam but then suddenly Tom was kissing you. He cradled your head in his hand and tilted your chin up to meet his lips. It wasn’t desperate or messy like most drunk kisses were. Instead, it was delicate. You swore you could feel every line of his lips against yours, feel his heartbeat through his hands on your cheek.

It was only for a second, not enough time for you to react or reciprocate and then he was pulling away, eyes wide with panic.

“Please don’t tell Sam.”

logging off before i get yelled at but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

forever tags: @mischiefmanaged49 @bookingbee @cloverrover @captainbuckyy @perhaps-he-schnapped-blog @awkwardfangirl2014 @the-queen-procrastinator @tastingthestarz @sleepybesson @everythingbooknerd @sunshine96love @bitchymathematician @livingincompletesilence @melsbooktrash @swim-deep-or-die @fizzy828 @spider-slutt @theamuz @nedthegay @astroasethic @stuckonspidey @darlingtholland @sgtbookybarnes @tinyplanet-explorers @mildcockandballtorture @uglypastels @gennyld @devin-marie @r-wooooosh @hell-yeah-peter-parker @itssnowingandimstuckinside @relise-thefury @osteporosis @legendsofwholock @peterunderoos @fuckyeahhomerun @nobelwarriorheroes @delicately-important-trash @thwip-it-real-good @claryfray101 @softholand @tomhollandseverything @cool-ultra-nerd @jillanaholland @dinasaur36 @farfromhaz @hanlons-wp @moon-390 @parkerstylesperalta @httpchrisevans @screeching-student-unknown @almondholland @noisyzineeggsbandit @5sos-microwave @quackson-love @smilealways19 @quackeroos @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @wolvesofwinter @mukesnugget @mytonycinematicuniverse @itsjusttor @percysmcu @peterquillzsblog @lovewolfspirit @biebsmylife95 @a-disappointing-teen-author @justanotherusername80 @b-buckys @sunkisseddreamer @hufflepuffprincess24 @princessxcryxbaby @tinyyoungblood @holyfrickfracks @amii-nyc @clara-licht @veryholland @captainamirica @ultrunning @cocoamoonmalfoy @nellbellzz-blog @bookfrog242 @honeymoonlover @nellabellaa @its-the-solar-system @spiitfiires @tomhollandfangirl1 @parkeromanoff @randomstufflol29 @pogueslandia @hollandswife @bunnyweasley23 @determined-overthinker @madz-holland

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#instead of you #iou #tom holland x reader #tom holland x bi!reader #tom holland x fem reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland series

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chiwhorei · 3 years

Text

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭

cross-posted to Ao3!

pairing: issei “horse cock” matsukawa x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

word count: ~4.4k

tags: stripper!issei, stripper!seijoh, roommate!oikawa, tendoukawa (bc @heauxzenji said it an it’s now the only ship in my head) dry humping, lap dance, a little corruption, spitting, public, alcohol and recreational drug consumption (weed and coke), spanking, degradation, hardly edited

a/n: howdy! this is my contribution to the smut pile’s western collab and it is so incredibly late but what the hell else is new. the masterlist for the collab can be found here! @messwriting and myself, in true chaotic duo fashion, built an absolutely depraved multiverse of seijoh strippers: the lawbreakers. lee, i love you so much. this journey we’ve been on the past few months has been chaotic and beautiful, and there’s plenty more to come.

the multiverse: hanamaki || iwaizumi || kyoutani

hymn: save a horse (ride a cowboy) by big & rich

and all the girls say— save a horse, ride a cowboy

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash.

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills.

It feels like observing an exhibit at a museum, or a zoo. Lines of coke, random dustings of pot and discarded swisher tobacco, too many open handles of liquor. Sitting on an end table is a bright pink teddy bear with a cowboy hat on it’s head.

How the fuck did you get here?

***

You shift your weight on either foot, arches aching already. The pair of jeans and top you had planned on wearing tonight were all but ripped off of your body, casual boots thrown down the hallway with sadistic glee and replaced with heels that are taller and a dress much too short.

“Damnit, you’re walking too fast.” Your appointed captor turns around dramatically, stopping in his tracks to watch you catch up. The cigarette pressed into his mouth cards in two fingers and extended towards you as a peace offering. You take the half gone stick and bring it to your lips.

Tendou’s mission was simple, drag his boyfriends roommate and best friend-- possibly kicking and screaming-- out for a night she won’t soon forget.

“Were those really necessary, Satori?” You point with the remnants of his cigarette and he feigns a kicked-puppy expression, looking down dramatically at his all black outfit contrasting drastically with a flashy pair of brownish-red cowboy boots.

“I am being a supportive partner. Plus Tooru and I wear the same shoe size.” His hair is bright outlined by the neon sign above the building.

You inhale smoke and nicotine, eying him over once again before continuing.

“Does it bother you when he’s dancing on all of those horny women?” The cigarette butt falls to the ground, you snuff it out while exhaling remnant smoke from your nose, the bachelorette party walking towards the door in a parade screaming emphasizes your question.

Tendou pulls you close, mouth pressing against your neck to bite against the skin. You jerk away from his embrace, with a feeble push against his chest to match the scoff scratching against your throat. The tall red head above you, currently leaned into the dip on your neck, always has an air of vulgar humor and zero personal space.

“Watching my pretty little boyfriend grinding on women that would never stand a chance with him,” he pulls away just in time to catch another eye roll before grabbing your wrist to pull you inside, “I think it’s hot as fuck.”

You stumble behind him, the doorman recognizing your friend immediately and lets the pair of you through tacky saloon doors. You catch a glimpse of the tattered sign standing right next to the entrance.

Lawbreaker’s Presents: The Guys of the Wild West

The club is drastically warmer than outside, the chill in your barely covered limbs thaws in a mixture of stage lights and body heat.

You sigh deeply as the sound of country music fills your ears, seemingly in rhythm with the squawking of drunken hens sipping on tall flutes of champagne. Thinking back briefly to when you first signed the lease with Oikawa, you remember he wore glasses and a sweater vest.

He said he worked as a “fitness instructor.”

“Ah, my two favorite people in the whole world,” Tooru’s ears just have been burning at your recollection, as your roommate appears in front of you in nothing but white spandex shorts and a pair of shiny boots to match, a tray of drinks is placed to the side on an unoccupied table. The white cowboy hat on his head gleamed in the low light of the club, rhinestone star shimmers-- you want to shy away from the bright refraction hitting your eyes.

He looks in his element, completely confident and cocksure as he walks around in only underwear and body oil.

“Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.” Oikawa melts into Tendou’s side, he looks just as content in the current atmosphere. Tendou seems at home in any ecosystem he wanders into.

“The show starts in 15, go get yourself a drink and try to pull the stick out of your ass. I’m going to, uhm, wish Tooru an extra special good luck.”

“I really didn’t need to know that, thanks. Tooru, break a leg.” You turn around at the sight of the wandering, tattooed hand on it’s journey south on Oikawa’s abdomen and retreat to the bar. You aren’t shocked by the display, not hardly, not with the two of them using almost every surface in your apartment as a debauched playground.

The space around you is emptier than you imagined it would be, but there is still time before the night actually starts. The bartender approaches just as you sit down on one of the wooden stools, every fixture around you is designed to look like an old saloon-- save for the strobing lights and dj booth.

You order something strong and amber, partially to stay in-theme, partially for the nerves settled in your stomach that draft beer wouldn’t be able to curb.

The woman smiles brightly and turns to pour your liquor, leaving you to pick at a cocktail napkin and await your friend’s return.

“You’re Shittykawa’s roommate.” A stranger's voice is deep and bellowing, sounding high above your ear. You swivel in your seat, gaze meeting a tanned chest instead of a set of eyes. Trailing upwards past thick black tattoos and an unavoidable pair of silver nipple rings.

You can feel the muscles in the back of your neck as they strain to meet his chocolate brown stare, he looks amused as you all but gawk at him.

“Yes, uh, I am. And you’re, uhm--” the train of thought you try to hang onto derailed completely by a devastating smile, “one of Tooru’s co-workers?”

If his smile wasn’t enough, his laugh could level the building around you. Your new friend taps the black Stetson against the bar top before putting it back on his head. He gestures broadly to his attire, or lack thereof, with another disarming and smooth chuckle.

“What gave that one away, darlin’?” You realize how stupid your question sounded, mentally kicking yourself but trying desperately not to show it on your face.

Long, thick legs are wrapped in a pair of leather chaps, the tight fabric hides nothing even if it covers most of his lower half. A matching vest hangs open on his chest, the muscles in his arms look bigger than your head. He seems huge in presence and physique, your own form is a shrinking violet below him.

“Your drink, dear. Double Jack n’ Coke.” The bartender slides a glass towards you, and you accept it with a gracious smile. The distraction is definitely appreciated, any excuse to break the eye contact that has you dissolving like lye.

“Jack n’ Coke, a gal after my own heart.” You choke, a coupling of small coughs break out of your chest. You curse your bodies reaction, you don’t even know--

“You’re name, uh, w-what’s your name.” Casual conversation seems like the best option, because it’s only been two minutes with the almost-naked Casanova and there’s a gnawing feeling that you don’t want him to walk away.

You blame it on the alcohol not yet even running through your veins.

“Call me anything you want, pretty girl, but my name’s Issei.”

A smile creeps from one end of your mouth to the other. His presence is jarring to say the least, but there’s something about the way his teeth peek out past curled lips that makes you want to lean in instead of away.

Tendou calls your name, effectively pulling you out of Issei’s orbit and reminding you where you are. Heat flushes in waves on your face as Tendou wraps his long arms around your shoulders from behind. Acknowledging your new friend with a pointed, “Howdy partner,” before turning to order his own drink.

“Something sweet please, and strong.” You hear his voice singing to the bartender but still face Issei, having his attention is more intoxicating than whiskey. You want him to talk to you, to ask you questions, to grace you with that smile over again.

You feel the ability to breathe escaping when Issei leans into you impossibly close, his hand enclosing around your back and pulling you in so slightly you could swear you imagined it.

“It was nice to meet you. Make sure I hear ya’ out there, darlin.”

You’re left almost falling from the bar stool, watching as Issei strides toward the back. The way his hips sway is unfair in every--

“Hey,” Tendou’s fingers come up to snap in front of your face, “Didya hear me? Let’s go take our seats.”

That’s right; you feel like you’ve just run a marathon, heart beating erratically at the briefest interaction, your night hasn’t even started yet.

You’re dragged directly towards the front of the stage and sat in a small two person table. You agreed to the night out between gritted teeth, hauled to the uber with absolute defiance; but most of your protest has fizzled away-- definitely not due to a pair of deep brown eyes and planes of perfectly tanned skin-- as you get comfortable next to the boisterous bridal party. You can hear their idle, drunken chatter at your back.

“I heard they call one of the dancers ‘Mad Dog’. Apparently he’s totally feral.”

“One of them is nicknamed the ‘Big Tease’, he really likes the pretty little brides~”

“Oh yeah? Well there’s one dancer called ‘Horse Cock’. I’m going to go home with him.”

The women behind you howl with laughter, enjoying their friend’s last night of freedom. The straw in your drink twirls idly, thoughts drifting with each turn of the plastic against your liquor. Surely, Issei had just intended a friendly introduction, he wouldn’t be raking in tips by being unapproachable.

Friendly, you decide, repeating it to yourself until the lights drop and a black curtain is pulled up, he was just being nice.

* * *

The show starts out mostly how you would expect. Through a few sets, toned, beautiful guys take their clothes off and fling articles at the screaming, panting crowd. The table next to you gets the most attention, bridal parties, you assume, would be the prized cash cow.

Oikawa comes out in the most obnoxious, white and teal outfit and strips into nothing but a thong and boots. Every inch of his skin sparkles, the cause becoming obvious when he jumps down to the audience and swivels his hips and ass right into your lap. Your hand comes up to his hip reflexively to brace yourself-- of course, body glitter.

You watch on at the sweaty writhing of the most beautiful men you have ever seen in real life. The atmosphere around you is absolutely contagious, it’s impossible not to fall into the rhythm, losing inhibitions with every stray piece of fabric as it’s tossed into the sea of women.

Just as you lean over to Tendou to admit that you’re enjoying yourself, the next song blasts loudly from the speakers. The beat vibrates your table, soaking into every nerve, but is almost drowned out completely by the shrieking from every patron around you. They must know what’s coming.

Looking back up front, you realize why the crowd is losing their minds. The man that commanded your attention at the bar is even more alluring now. His strut to center stage is deliberate, flashing smiles and winks to no one in particular and hypnotizing every person in his reach.

Issei is stunning in his element, soaking in the reaction with a humble tip of his hat. You could swear, though you’re sure that it’s just your imagination, that he’s looking right at you.

His performance starts out like the rest of them, but each movement of his tattooed hands as they travel over his chest is spellbinding.

Issei discards his leather vest and tosses it to the side, it feels like you’re watching him in slow motion. He’s gorgeous, skin tanned and tight over thick muscle, arms wrapped in black ink and shining with sweat.

His chaps are next, ripped from his legs just as music behind him picks up. The wedding party next to you so loud you swear the laundromat next door can hear.

All that’s left is a thong that’s barely covering his cock. You try desperately not to, but all your eyes can focus on is the bulge under a tiny piece of black leather. Your thighs rub together in search of any relief to the feeling growing hot and slick in your stomach.

He moves like liquid platinum, every long, deliberate swivel of his hips and overt palming over his crotch is enough to cause delirium. He soaks in every whistle and shriek of his name, vibrating on the high of squelching attention.

Issei is a natural. He’s a wild animal, and, along with every other woman there, you wish he would tear you apart with his canines.

He descends the short staircase with a quick stomp of his boots, now making rounds through the crowd. He stops in front of tables at random, invading the space between strangers and collecting wrinkled one dollar bills.

Why does something so blatantly performative feel voyeurous?

All you can do is gawk, ignoring how every time another woman’s hand runs down his abdomen you heat with envy. As he turns away from the bridal party neighboring you, your blood turns ice cold.

Issei has you, unmistakably, in his sights. His eyes pin you, holding you down tightly in your chair as he struts forward. Tendou whistles loudly as the brunette approaches your table. You wonder, in your last moment of cognizance, if Saroti and Tooru had planned your evening in more detail that you originally thought.

“Long time no see, darlin’,” Issei stands over you, and all you can do is stare dumbly up at him, “do ya trust me?”

You don’t answer, not with words, not like he would even hear your quiver over Big & Rich booming through the speakers. His question is stupid, to trust someone you just met so vaguely?

You do. Against any better judgement, you do.

He doesn't give you the chance to ask what he means, stuck in the gooey feeling of his attention. Issei reaches behind you, picking up your half empty glass. He swirls the drink with an almost evil smile before bringing it up to his lips and draining the last bits of whiskey and coke.

Your face reads confused, not putting his intentions together until you feel his thumb pressed against your chin. Issei’s eyebrow quirks, eyes trained on your reaction. You’re options are to shy away, turning back in your seat, running for escape in the bathroom, or--

The gloss on your mouth is sticky as your lips part in obedience. Issei tries to hide his elation, but it’s difficult to remain aloof as your tongue lulls out and your eyes beg him.

Issei’s hold on your chin tightens, nudging you to lean in so he’s only inches away. Your eyes shut lightly, the shouting surrounding you sounds little more than a whisper with the blood rushing in your ears.

You swear you can hear him groan above you as the sharp taste of liquor hits your tongue. Willing your body to cooperate, you swallow the drink with only a small cough.

His face dips down, it seems like a habit now, to brush his promises against the shell of your ear once again.

“You’re an agreeable little thing, I think you can take it.”

His hands are on either side of your chair in a flash, lifting you up with trained, bulging muscles. You fall forward in your seat, bracing against Issei’s chest. Every cell in your body is tight with tension, if you lift your head up to meet the audience’s eyes, you’re sure you’ll crack like glass.

He steals you from relative comfort, shifting your weight in his arms as he ascends back onto stage. You’ve gone limp in his hold, pliant to his will. The unfamiliar presence at a dusty bar top has turned into more than a front row seat to depravity.

You’re thrown off balance as he sets you down, eyes adjusting to the white hot stage lights. You’re exposed to every set of eyes in the building, even if you can’t see him-- you know Satori is smiling from one sharp cheek to the other. Wherever Tooru is, he’s most likely sitting in the same satisfaction.

Aren’t you glad you came out tonight? I promise, you’re going to have a great time.

Issei rounds the back of your chair so his actions are hidden from your view. The brim of a leather cowboy hat breaches your field of vision, much too big for your head.

His hands come down onto your shoulders, snaking down your bare arms. His touch leaves a scorching fleet of chills. Issei runs his finger tips upwards, tracing against your collarbone before wrapping his grip lightly around your neck.

He can feel it, he has to, the racing pulse right under the surface of your skin.

The music transitions effortlessly, going almost unnoticed. The next song, still sharp with a cheesy country twang, is slower, deeper.

Issei’s thumb brushes against your cheek, your body wants to relax into the touch before it remembers how public the gesture is.

You hold in a shaky breath as he comes to stand in your eyeline again, you might as well be bound to your chair with rope. He looks larger than life-- in both stature and presence-- in front of you. His skin is glistening, refracting from the harsh lights with sweat and oil.

He is an unstoppable force against your will. Your desire to hide from the blinding attention is nothing compared to the desire to please. To please a stranger, to please the man you met only an hour ago.

To please Issei.

He flashes you another wink, taking a moment to rake his stair down your body. He memorizes the outline of your cute little dress, red is definitely your color.

Issei slides across the smooth surface of the stage to meet where you’re perched. The barreling, almost naked body now impossibly close to where your knees are pressed together.

He starts at your ankles, tracing the soft skin of your legs until his palms press flatly against your lower thigh. Issei savors the moment for a beat longer before prying your legs apart.

The crowd below you is loud and hollow in your ears, the shame bubbling up against your cheeks and nose is nothing compared to the pressure between your legs.

Issei’s hands wander up and under the hem of your skirt, scratching his nails on the vulnerable skin before they find his prize in the form of thin lace.

The “Wait” and “Stop” sitting on your lips shrivels up and dies as your panties are ripped off. You see the bright color, the last remnants of opposition twirling around his pointer and middle finger.

The crowd goes wild, watching as your body is made a fantasy that they can all live vicariously by. all you can do is watch as the fabric is stuffed into the side of his thong to accompany fistfuls of singles.

* * *

You’re still in shock by the final dance, still under a trance as Tendou pulls you towards the back. Stumbling behind him to catch up, you’re given no time to think about what you’re about to walk into.

A fog of smoke burns in your eyes. The room around you feels like it could curl in on itself, four walls marked sparsely with dusty furniture, the smell of weed and cash.

You fix your gaze onto a long, diagonal tear in the leather couch across the must and g-strings, the rip in upholstery is stuffed with wrinkled one dollar bills.

“I didn’t go too far did I?” Snapping back into reality, you hear Issei call to you. You’re vaguely comforted by a familiar voice before remembering the man attached had spat whiskey into your mouth and stolen your panties just 30 minutes prior. You heat up at the tips of your ears at the recollection of two things you had let him do, that you had wanted him to do.

Your eyes find Issei sitting on the couch on the opposite end of your freshly showered roommate, seemingly unbothered as Tendou flops down against the middle cushion and drapes both arms across the back.

“Don’t worry partner, our girl doesn’t startle easy.” Oikawa laughs, adjusting to sit across his boyfriend’s lap. Issei’s all leather outfit is replaced with a pair of grey sweats. He looks relaxed, effortlessly handsome.

What was it like, you wonder, before you knew how it felt to look at him? Life past the single night feels grey around the edges.

When was the last time you felt this alive?

He takes a sip of a water bottle, wiping off his chin with the large rose tattooed on his hand. You can’t stop staring at them-- the ones that roamed your body in front of a club full of drunk bachelorettes, the ones that traced your skin like he already had the map.

And now you watch those same hands, so new but so inviting, as two fingers curl inward. They pull you as if tightening a rope around your waist. You wade past tall sweaty men and freshly caught audience members as they tangle across dusty furniture.

You scoot by your best friends from where they sit next to Issei, ignoring the slap to your ass and the following laugh from Oikawa in between loud, sloshing kisses.

“Well, little one,” He pats his thigh, inviting you to the spot on his lap rather than the empty seat next to him, “you’re not gonna run away are ya?”

Every nerve in your body is twitching, you’re not sure if you could run if you wanted to.

You don’t.

Issei takes in your small nod of confirmation, pulling you into his hold. The position is awkward at first, perching on his knee as you try to keep your balance. He laughs, his arm snaking around your back so you relax into him. You fidget with your fingers as they lie against your lap, watching the bustling around you. A cloud of smoke settles in the air, you wonder if it’s a permanent haze of tobacco and pot-- the scent is probably painted into the walls.

“Is this what you expected?” Issei’s voice is low and close to your ear, you can feel the smile curled into his question. Your eyes are fixed forward, watching as Tendou pours a small white line into Oikawa’s collarbone and dives in nose first.

“Honestly,” you adjust, kicking your legs up over his other knee, “I’m pretty used to this kind of stuff.”

Even if your usual scene doesn't include a drug filled almost-orgy, you can’t say you’re fazed much. Not with the company you keep.

Even with the circus revolving around you, Issei is the only thing you can see. Everything else falls away but the smell of his body wash and the soft material of his sweats where they meet your naked legs.

His hand rests against your thigh, fingers just above then short hem of your party dress. The metal rings on each digit are cool against your burning skin. You’re sure Issei can feel the heat rising in your stomach as it spreads through your blood.

You feel him lean back, fishing something out of his pocket to set in your hands. You feel every hair stand on edge as the thin cotton drops into your grip, heavy as an anchor.

“You know what I think, darlin’?” Your breath hitches, the room around you squeezing tight against your shoulders, “I think you’re a natural on stage. I bet you would have let me do anything up there.”

A hand wanders down the path of your spine, rough fingerprints stroke past each vertebrae. You arch at the feeling, his skin is like a narcotic. The liquor still swimming in your mind is no match to this, to the heady smell of sex and sweat as it cuts through your senses.

Issei’s right, you’ll let him do anything to you. You’ll beg for it like you’re trying to pass the gates of heaven.

Your body moves of its own volition, legs swinging to straddle his waist. The material of your dress bunches over the curve of your ass, completely exposed to the room around you before being eclipsed by steady palms.

You would be, should be, embarrassed by the display of public depravity. No one around seems to notice, half naked is still more modest than most everyone else. Tendou and Oikawa have dissolved into a pile of spit and clashing teeth next to you, saving you from any snide quips. There’s nothing but Issei, face an inch away from you and lips tempting you to lean forward.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I don’t usually do this?”

Glassy eyes flick dumbly at the man below you. He sees the wobble of your lip, the glaze in your stare as you memorize every feature on his face. Any reassurance sitting on his tongue dies when you crash your lips against his, hips rolling down into him and knocking him off guard.

Your kiss is searing and drips with finality. You’ve decided what bed you’ll wake up in the morning with your tongue tracing against his molars.

“No, not really.” Foreheads pressed together, it’s your turn to laugh. If you’re honest, you probably made this decision while still sitting at the bar.

You dip back in, emboldened with the bruising fingers digging against the fat of your hips. The feeling of your cunt pressed against his crotch could bring a man to his knees.

He’s not opposed, he’s just gotta get you home first.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

#issei matsukawa x reader #issei matsukawa smut #mattsun smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #the smut pile collab #the smut pile western collab #the lawbreakers: multiverse #tw: drugs #tw: voyeurism #sin.drugs #sin.voyeurism

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miyalove · 3 years

Text

⋆｡˚⁀➷ WRAPPED UP.

⤷ pairing. ceo!kuroo tetsuro x (female) secretary!reader

⤷ genre. fluff, smut, office au, friends with benefits au

⤷ warnings. swearing, taboo relationship, the use of princess as a nickname, possessiveness, messy sex, rough sex, begging, brief mentions of degradation, ass slapping, ass groping, teasing, (unexpected) sir kink, manhandling, dom!kuroo, sub!reader, power play, spitting, consumption of another person’s spit, lingerie, dirty talk, penetrative sex, sex without a condom (please be safe, kids), *unedited

⤷ note. this might be one of the dirtiest things i have EVER written... so i hope you enjoy! and of course, happy valentines day ♡

1.6k | what's a better valentine’s day gift for your boss than yourself?

the relationship you and kuroo have is a bit taboo. the secretary and the ceo. with the way you sway your hips with a little more emphasize when you leave his office, the way you laugh at all his jokes, the way your body dip downs (ass in the air looking absolutely perfect) to grab at fallen papers. of course, something was going to happen. you were practically betting on it.

but of course, it takes two to start the devil’s conga line.

it was kuroo who wanted you to stay later than usual. only you and him in his big office space and yet he urged you to stay, big hands rubbing at the inside of your thighs. it was him who insisted on how sexy you looked in the middle of meetings; your hair neatly tucked behind your ears, lips pouted and a fire behind your eyes that would make any man weak. it was kuroo that guided you to his desk, smile bright and eyes glowing with mischief because he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. you can’t complain though, you want it too.

he grabs at your waist turning you around so your thighs are firmly pressed against his desk. the lace you have on perfectly shapes your body. it presses at your delicate skin, digging and reaching into all the places kuroo wishes he could touch. he swears he could stare at you all day like this; bent over, dripping pussy on display just for him.

this was different though.

no matter how many times you walked in his office with your alluring eyes. kuroo prided himself on being professional. there was a natural attraction between the two of you, that much is obvious, but for the sake of his company, kuroo never made a move. the feeling of belittlement against you for ‘sleeping your way up’ would make him stay awake at night with guilt. however, tonight things were different. maybe it was the fact that this was your first valentines together or maybe fate just has a really niche sense of humor, but whatever the case; you’re still sopping wet and begging to be fucked.

his hands roam your body. he moves slowly, studying every curve and dip like you’re the latest from leonardo de vinci. ah yes, the redness from when i smacked her ass contrast perfectly to the color of her eyes. you’re beautiful. he desperately craves to say it but the words die on his tongue before he can speak. instead, he lets his actions talk.

“it’s too bad these have to go, princess.” a single finger traces your lace cladded entrance. the action alone has you whimpering. “i’ll buy you another set though.” you feel him shift from behind, body leaning down to press a chaste kiss to the small of your back.

one of his hands snake up to your neck, yanking at the roots of your tresses. the force makes you gasp. a mixture of pain, shock, and pleasure rushes through you. your head whips back in an uncomfortable position, but you’re able to see kuroo’s perfectly sculptured face, so really you have no complaints. “how do you feel about red?”

the sound of fabric ripping in half has you concern, at first. but kuroo tetsuro, for as long as you’ve known him has been a no bullshit kind of man. he teases and jokes but when it comes down to business, he’s a cutthroat beast. so it makes sense for him to move on as fast as he came.

there’s no time for you to wonder in astonishment at how he throws your (now useless) panties across his office. he’s already pulling out his cock and sinking into you until his body presses right against your back. naturally, your lips part into a pout that’s wrapped around a wanton moan. the stretch is sensational and the burn evens out the euphoria. he feels you up so well. you can feel his cock rub up against your walls, reaching spots within you that have never been touched by anyone else before. you understand now why your boss is no play and all business. when kuroo needs to, he’s not afraid to get down and dirty just like right now.

“this cunt was made for me.” is what he purrs into your ear. it’s embarrassing how much that affects you. the mere idea of being his has you clenching around his huge cock. his free hand rubs at your back, grabbing at the supple flesh on your ass. you can feel his nails dig into you, the coldness from his rings slightly soothing the pain.

“this ass was made for me too.” and to further cement his claim, he delivers a particularly hard thrust at the same time he smacks at your cheeks. the movement makes you fly forward, papers and other (probably very important things) slide off the top of his desk, but you don’t have time to care. not when the man of your dreams is fucking you so good. you’ll worry about the crumpled up project approval papers later.

“god, and that mouth.” he shifts to the side. the pressure on your head heightens while he pulls at your ends. your neck feels stiff and his thrust begin to shallow. his ring cladded fingers draw at your jaw, thumb playing with the entrance of your mouth.

“this pretty little mouth.” his lips brush against your own. his breath fans across your face. he’s so close to kissing you in fact if you moved just an inch closer you would– a fat glob of spit cuts you off. the sudden action made you flinch at first but kuroo made it very clear you could tell him to stop at anytime. his saliva comes down from his long tongue and slots within your mouth perfectly.

he clamps your jaw shut and you have no choice but to swallow him whole. “good girl, just like that.” he coaxes you while petting at your crown. when you finally open your mouth and all of him is gone, kuroo swears he could cum right then and there.

“you’re so fucking sexy. holy shit.” his shallow thrust began to get more punctuated now. you can’t hear anything besides the slapping of skin-on-skin contact. you don’t hear kuroo’s phone ringing for the third time. you don’t hear the bustling street life just below tetsuro’s flamboyant row of glass windows. all you can focus on is the intense pleasure that pumps through your veins. it makes you see stars with every thrust, makes your legs shake with every murmur of pretty girl. the white hot coil within you is thinning. it’s about to snap, you can feel it.

“te– tetsuro, please?”

“please, what, princess?” his voice is strained. he’s close too.

“please, can i come, sir?”

he can’t believe it. he must have died in the middle of the day and ended up in some kind of sex heaven with you as the starring role (not that he’s complaining). he has the a fantastic view of your ass bouncing, you swallow him down like the pretty slut you are, and you respond perfectly with every little touch, every little action. you’re perfect is what he concludes.

“fuck, yes.” his fingers dig into your sides. his grip is like a vice on your skin as he shoves himself deeper within you. “cum for me, princess.”

you feel his dick twitch and seconds later he’s cummings with a shaky sigh. you’re finally able to let go, you come at around the same time, milking his cock for every last drop. kuroo takes it upon himself to fuck you through your orgasm, a little slower this time, but it still has you breaking down.

he remembers the way you sauntered into his office, skirt a little too short and eyes practically begging for him. you must have known something was going to happen. there’s no way you just wear pretty pink lace to your everyday job. no, today was a special day for you and apparently for him too. when things finally get too much, kuroo tucks his softened cock back into his pants.

you’re hair is messy. it’s matted from all the sweat and tangled from all the times kuroo raked through your locks and pulled. your chest rises and falls quickly and your eyes are closed trying to concentrate. the blissful veil of sex is finally settling and yet you still look as gorgeous as ever. he’s left there staring at you like you’re the only thing that matters to him. like he wouldn’t mind waking up everyday to your face weather you’re smiling up at him or snoring up a storm.

when you shift to hop of the desk is when he finally makes a move. he grabs onto your waist, trying his hardest to steady himself so you’re able to balance too. your feet hit the floor and your legs feel like they’re gonna give out at any moment. they wobble under your weight. you can’t help but laugh. it’s a sweet, melodious tone that’s a little scratchy from your... previous actions, but still, he thinks it fits.

“what’s gotten you so giggly?” he guides you to one of his plush office chairs. as you walk, your body remains flesh against his.

“i just–,” your hues lock onto kuroo’s dark ones. “i wouldn’t mind if we did this again, yanno?”

he smiles down at you watching while you readjust your skirt back over your legs. you bend forward with you’re ass in the air. you must be doing it on purpose, he knows with the way you comically wiggle your hips. and he nods, “yes, i wouldn’t mind that either.”

#hqradiostation #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #hq!!#haikyuu smut #hq smut #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro smut #haikyuu x reader

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teasty · 3 years

Text

kiss yourself (01) | h.js (m)

● pairing: han jisung x (female) reader

● genre: angst, smut, fluff || fwb to lovers au

● words: 6.9k ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

→ summary:

It all started when you and your best friend for life, Han Jisung, got a little bit too tipsy at a party and ended up waking up naked in the same bed. After that unfortunate night, you and Jisung confirmed there be a distinguished “friends with benefits” relationship between the two of you, with a few rules.

Number One: No one else is supposed to know about this relationship.

Number Two: The minute one of the two of you starts a serious relationship with someone, the benefits are cut off immediately.

Number Three: Have to respect the other’s wishes, if one doesn’t want to do it, then there’s no argument.

Number Four: No falling in love.

But, when Jisung starts crushing over your classmate, you start to break the rules. One by one.

a/n: first story here :D my dirty mind couldn’t resist smut so here we go

CHAPTER ONE | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

“Oh, fuck, baby… you feel so fucking good.”

It was a stupid way to start of a weird relationship with one of your best friends, Han Jisung. A stupid way to let yourself succumb to his stupid antics and a stupid way to let him be more than a friend, but less than a lover.

It was a few months ago, and your second year of university was just starting up. Jisung had convinced you to go to some party the week before school would start. But, you were reluctant at first. Unlike Jisung, you were never too much of a party animal. Never too much of a social person to begin with. Jisung was another story entirely. He would always be out late and wouldn’t go back to his house or his dorm room until late, according to his roommate, Jeongin (who thankfully kept tabs on Jisung for you whenever you were suspicious that Jisung wasn’t telling the truth to you and would go out to some party, when he would tell you that he’s just going to meet up with other friends. You didn’t want to overbear him, but you worried for his health at times).

It was your first party, too. You had never bothered going to one in high school, not wanting to be crowded by drunk teenagers, being thrown up on or spilled on, or watching two people fuck in the corner of the room. It was never your go - to, but Jisung had convinced you to go after he promised that he’d never leave your side, even if he was being dragged away by “some hot chick trying to hop on his dick”. Even if you had wanted to say no, you couldn’t get a “no” past his pleading eyes. So, you had hesitantly agreed to go, and he was beyond excited to take you to your first party.

He even helped you pick out an outfit, and had taken hours finding the right one for the occasion. You’d never been very fashionable, unlike Jisung, who usually decked out in expensive clothes and accessories (you preferred comfortable, classic clothes like hoodies and leggings instead of skin - tight jeans and overly designed shirts). Jisung had basically tore your closet apart trying to find the “right outfit”. It was tiring, but you will admit that you had fun with trying on new clothes and hearing the praise from Jisung. He had eventually chosen an outfit for you that you felt quite uncomfortable in, but nonetheless beautiful. You had worn a tight pair of black leather pants, a maroon red tank top (that was tucked into the leather pants) and a black jacket. You will admit that it was sexy, and Jisung seemed to like it.

A lot.

But, he claimed that guys there would be drooling over you and trying to sleep with you, but he’d be there to keep you safe. Even so, you wondered why he’d make you wear such an outfit to a party if he was only going to keep you away from a one night stand, one you wouldn’t even remember anyways. He did claim that he wanted you to ‘keep your innocence’, which was total bullshit since he knew you weren’t a virgin (you lost it to some jock in high school who had been eyeing you during a football game) and definitely not innocent, as you both liked to constantly make dirty jokes here and there.

The party was at some rich kid’s house, and their parents were out of town. Their house was gorgeous and big, but filled to the brim with loud university students, some you had even recognised as your classmates. Jisung had kept his hand interlocked with yours as he pulled you through the crowd at the entrance and to the living room, where there was a table full of food and drinks, and even a cliche bowl of spiked punch. You were glad not as many people crowded the table, but Jisung obviously had some friends there, since he hugged one of them before going back to you.

“Hey, Hyunjin. Felix. Have you guys met (Y/N)?” Was the first thing he had said to them, and you were somewhat flustered by the sudden attention. But you suspected that you should have expected that kind of attention, since Jisung seemed oh - so excited that he’s taking you to a party.

“I don’t think we have,” said one of the two. You were taken aback by how deep his voice was. It wasn’t forced either, his voice was so relaxed, you almost felt like you’d be pulled into a deep sleep if you were to listen to his voice for hours. He was handsome, too. His bleached hair was a little long, but not as long as the other man’s, with brown roots peaking through the top of his head. “The name’s Lee Felix. I didn’t know Jisung kept such pretty friends away from us.”

“Oh, don’t be a flirt,” says the other man with long hair, which was tied back in a ponytail. You had concluded that he was Hyunjin, if the other was Felix, “And, no. I think I’ve seen you around though. But not in… those types of clothes.”

“Yeah, and you call me a flirt?” Felix cocks a brow at Hyunjin, who only glares back.

“It’s not flirting if it’s just stating a fact. I’ve seen her around… but in oversized hoodies and leggings,” Hyunjin counters.

“Alright, alright, pipe down,” Jisung interferes, stopping what would have become a petty argument about who’s flirting and who’s not. “Well, since you both can’t make a decent introduction… (Y/N), this is Felix,” he points to the man with the deep voice, “and this is Hwang Hyunjin. I think you guys might be in the same chemistry class last year, am I right?”

“Oh, yeah…!” Hyunjin claps his hands together, “You’re the one who nearly blew up the whole class! Oh, I remember, now.” Hyunjin and Felix laugh together, and Jisung gives you a weird look.

“It’s a long story,” you sigh, chuckling along with their contagious laughter, “Let’s just say that I was too tired to function and got mixture A mixed up with mixture B and almost made a really severe chemical reaction. I don’t think it would have blown up the whole school, though.” You fold your arms, and Hyunjin shrugs his shoulder.

“Who knows,” Hyunjin says, and you squint at him. “I’m not a chemistry genius, but it could have been bad. That’s not the point. I’m glad to meet you, (Y/N). I hope we can be closer.”

“Ditto,” Felix smiles down at you, and you chuckle awkwardly, flustered, “You seem like an interesting person. How did you and Jisung meet?”

“We used to be neighbors, like, a decade ago,” Jisung answers for you, leaning against the table filled with drinks and food, “Since we were the same age, we stuck together. Even after I moved again, we still talked like every day over the phone until university hit. Thankfully we got into the same school, and we both are going to live on campus, so… It’s been a lot easier.”

“Surprised you two were able to stay close even through distance,” Felix comments, and you and Jisung share a brief look and smile, “Not a lot of people are able to hold a strong relationship when the only thing they have is a phone or computer. Take Hyun for example, he couldn’t stay friends with this one chick even if he tried.”

“Wasn’t my fault she sucked at holding conversations. She always expected me to make up all the interesting shit. Kinda glad she ghosted me, now,” Hyunjin laughs, almost defensively, as if embarrassed by such a situation.

“It was your fault for trying to cling to her,” Jisung intervenes.

“Oh shut up, shortstack,” Hyunjin grumbles, and Jisung’s brows raise in challenge.

“Say that again, pretty boy, I dare you,” Jisung threatens, and you glare over at him, but he didn’t seem to care for your glare. Hyunjin and Jisung did end up getting into a petty argument about it and you had to stop it by asking Jisung to show you around the place. But, not before trading numbers with Felix and Hyunjin, since they insisted that they wanted to get to know you better (Felix still grumbling irritably about how Jisung kept “such a pretty friend” away from them for so long). You wouldn’t deny new friends, even if they were Jisung’s party animal friends and flirtatious, it didn’t really matter to you. You could use some new friends, anyways.

You had met a few more of Jisung’s friends (who all seemed to be so handsome that your heart would race every time they’d smile down at you or talk to you), three seniors,Seo Changbin, Lee Minho and Christopher Bang, and another, younger man named Seungmin. Out of all of them, Seungmin and Christopher seemed the most genuine. Minho, Felix, Changbin and Hyunjin just seemed pretty flirtatious. You could admit that you were intimidated by them, and by the party in general, but with Jisung next to you the whole way, you had at least some sense of security.

Your first drink of the night wasn’t until a few hours into the party. You were a little bit more comfortable with the setting. Jisung had sat you down in one of the living rooms, as you learned there were many. Not as many people were in this room other than people talking or flirting. It felt nice to finally sit down on such a comfortable couch, since you had been standing on heels the whole night, and relax. Jisung had already had a few mixed drinks, and you could see his face getting redder and redder due to the alcohol.

He handed you a plastic red cup filled with something orange that stunk of different kinds of liquor. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing too strong,” Jisung reassured, and you huffed softly. A bit nervous to drink it, but you did, anyway. It wasn’t terrible, but you could taste the liquor clearly through the citrusy taste. Jisung watched you as your face grew from confused to scrunched up from the bitter taste. You had alcohol before, but every time you had it, it was like the first time all over again. But, when you got used to the taste, the cup was empty in a flash.

You didn’t know when it started kicking in, but after you had Jisung fetch more drinks and you tried to stand up, you immediately plopped back onto the couch as an instant wave of fatigue washed over you. Your head started to ache, and it was getting warmer than it should have been. Sure, it was nearly the end of summer, but it was like someone shut off the air conditioning. So, you took off your jacket while waiting for Jisung to come back. It felt like forever until he came back, and you instinctively began to miss him. He’d stayed by your side the whole night, and it was weird without him. It was lonely, too, even if there were other people in the same room. You were too nervous to talk to them, though.

When he did, and handed the drink to you, the minute he had sat down, you clung to him.

“Woah, you alright?” Jisung laughs it off as you take the red cup in one hand and the other latching around his strong bicep. You were never usually one for skinship, but now was a different story. Each time you looked at Jisung, you felt like he was going to magically disappear. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol that made you so anxious or just you being lonely, but you weren’t really going to let go anytime soon. At first, Jisung was tense, and it took him a minute to get used to you huddling so close to him.

Like the first, the cup you had was empty sooner rather than later, even though Jisung advised you to sip on it instead of gulping it down, like you had been. After that drink, you didn’t order him to get another drink, you were too focused on the feeling of his bicep to ask for another.

“You can’t be drunk after two mixed drinks,” Jisung said after a while.

“Not drunk… just a bit tipsy, is all,” you responded, more of a low grunting than a talking voice. You liked how you could hear Jisung’s voice loud and clear the closer you were to him.

“Sure. Your tolerance isn’t very high, you know,” Jisung chuckles, and your body moves along with the bounce of his for each laugh. You only grunted in response, having already known that. “And, by the way, you don’t have to cling onto me like that. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Shut up,” you snapped, but you didn’t really want him to. You just didn’t want him to talk about you letting him go, since you didn’t want to. To prove your point, you squeezed harder onto his arm, “I’m comfy. Lemme have this moment.” Jisung deeply sighs and complies. After that, there’s a comfortable silence.

You were staring at the way your legs pressed against his as his legs relaxed in a (hot) manspread. His head leaned back, slightly tilted towards yours, which was squished against his shoulder. His hand rested delicately against your thigh, not moving much but sometimes his hand would press against your thigh. It was nice, and you could faintly hear his heartbeat.

You and Jisung weren’t strangers to cuddling, as you both had a lot of sleepovers before (with a strict talking to from your parents about having sex, and why not to do it), but this was different. Almost intimate. You’re both adults now, so cuddling like you would years ago when you were both barely teenagers wouldn’t be so innocent. Especially with Jisung’s obvious sex drive, things wouldn’t go so well. You both had never done anything like that, either. You both have never even kissed before. Well, there were times when he’d kiss your cheek or hand and vise versa, but nothing more than a peck and nothing more than that.

You wouldn’t deny your attraction to Jisung. You couldn’t really see yourself in a serious relationship with him, but damn is he attractive. He really matured over the years, too. His beautiful brown hair is in need of a cut, but you liked it a bit long. He might not be the tallest man alive, but his face made up for it. Even if he had the cheeks of a chipmunk, his jawline was as sharp as a knife. You could stare at him for hours, just admiring how he was built. You wondered if he felt the same about you. If he could stare at you for hours just admiring your beauty. Of course, it would probably never even cross his mind, even if Jisung would say how pretty you looked with a specific hairdo or how you looked beautiful in a certain outfit.

You found yourself staring at him as your thoughts carried on. Your arm unhooked from around his, and you watched how his eyes were closed. He looked like he was sleeping, but you could tell he wasn’t by the way his hand gripped you just above your knee. You were staring at him, and then at his neck. The way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed.

Your mind grew hazy, void of thought as your lips parted slightly, your breath fanning his neck. His hand squeezed harder around your leg and you could faintly see his brows furrow. He doesn’t do anything nor say anything, but you watch as his bottom lip catches in between his teeth. You want more of a reaction. You don’t know why and you can’t form a reason why, but you do. You push yourself a little bit further until your lips connect just underneath his jaw. Your warm tongue pressing against his warm skin. You can feel how his hand trembles and the way his leg twitches underneath your own. Jisung emits a breathy groan, and you can feel it against your tongue.

“(Y/N)...” Jisung musters out, but you only press wet, slow kisses along the side of his neck, “What the fuck are you doing?” His voice is deeper, raspier and darker. Almost scary. If you weren’t so blank in the mind, you would think he’s mad. But all you can think about is urging him on further. You don’t want to answer him. You don’t have an answer to begin with.

“Just relax,” You whisper closely to his ear, nipping at the skin below his ear, and he sharply inhales. At this point, you don’t care who’s watching or why you’re doing this. The soft, breathy sounds Jisung emits makes you feel different, and the feeling of his warm skin against your tongue is addicting. “Don’t push me away.” You whisper again, one of your hands creeping up over his defined chest and along his neck.

“You have no fucking clue what you’re getting yourself into,” Jisung groans out, and you only chuckle against him. Briefly halting your wet kisses to his neck to smile lazily. “I’m being serious, (Y/N).” You know he’s serious just by the tone of his voice.

“Mmm…” was all you responded with as you pressed your body against the side of his. Your hand gripping his shirt as your leg creeps over his more and more. Edging yourself on top of him. “Sunggie…” you teased him by groaning his nickname into his neck. Sucking gently on his skin, giving it a blue and purple hue. You gave him multiple marks, and his hand caressed your arm gently as you breathily moan his name against his neck, “Sunggie… Jisung - ah.”

And that seemed to break him. His hand snaps up to grip your cheeks, aggressively pulling your head away from him to make you look him in the eyes. And it’s a look you’ve never seen in him before. It wasn’t anger or disgust in his half lidded eyes, but a pure sense of utter lust and desire. His hand grips your chin, his fingers pressing against your cheek as his eyes examine your face. His face is a pretty pink from the alcohol and you guessed from him blushing. Now, you’re on top of him. Straddling his lap, and you can feel his hard - on underneath you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, (Y/N). I’m giving you one last chance before I take you back to my place and break you,” Jisung says, and you liked this side of him. Sure, you’ve seen him being aggressive, but not like this. No, this is different. You don’t have much courage to speak, so all you can do is let your tongue fall out of your mouth and guide his index finger in between your lips. His mouth parts slightly in shock as he watches your mouth engulf his finger.

“Fine, you wanna be like that,” Jisung brows furrow, and he stands up quickly, and you let out a yelp as his hand yanks itself from your mouth as both of his hands latch around your thighs. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and your arms around his neck, “We’re going home.”

It wasn’t easy, leaving without being spotted by one of Jisung’s friends. Felix had come over to see us when he saw Jisung’s arm wrapped around you as your head stuffed into his neck (teasingly kissing his neck). “Oi, Jisung. Everything good?”

“Yep,” Jisung gives Felix a convincing smile, and you smile against his neck, “I’m taking (Y/N) home. She got a bit too crazy tonight.”

“Really? She’s been pretty quiet,” Felix notes.

“Well, she has her different sides to her,” Jisung laughs, “Uh, yeah, well, I gotta get her home, Felix. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, alright? Let Hyunjin and everyone else know that I’m leaving.”

“Alright, I’ll catch you later, bud. Take care of her for me, alright?”

“Oh, I will,” Jisung smiles, and you squeezed tighter onto him.

After that, it was foggy. All you could remember was how Jisung treated you. Calling you dirty things all while praising you. Making sure you were alright while tearing you apart blissfully.

It was the next morning where everything was decided.

You were the first to wake up, having the sun shining brightly in your face. You had a blazing headache, and you could feel your head pulsing that morning. You couldn’t even open your eyes after you woke up because it hurt so bad. You hadn’t even considered where you were or why you were completely nude at first. But, when it hit you that there was only a thin, soft blanket covering you, you had the courage to open your eyes and see where you were.

It was a familiar room, that’s for sure. The bed was much bigger than your own, and you usually had more pillows and blankets than this, so it wasn’t your room. It didn’t really hit you where you were before you looked to your side. You nearly screamed when you saw Han Jisung, your best friend laying next to you. His back turned to you, and completely shirtless. You held the blanket around your chest. You stared at him for a moment, brief memories of last night running through your mind. You wanted to cry as embarrassment and shame powered through you, but a sense of want overpowering it. A part of you didn’t want this to be just a one - time thing.

“Jisung!” You whispered, nudging his shoulder. He didn’t budge, “Han Jisung! Han Jisung - ah, wake up!” Your voice raised as you shook him, “Jisung!”

“What, what? Is everything okay?” Jisung bolts up after you yell his name. Sitting up straight, he hisses when the sun makes contact with the sun. His hand rubs his eye, and you try not to note the scratch marks on his back, the hickeys littering his neck and chest or how he was just as naked as you, only being covered by the comfort of the thin blanket. “Fuck, (Y/N), don’t scare me like that.”

“Why are you acting so calm?” You didn’t raise your voice, as your head ached terribly because of it, “Look at me Jisung.”

And, so he did. He looks up. He didn’t seem as tired, as he saw the blue and purple hickeys lining your neck and what he could see of your breasts as well as red scratch marks on your shoulders. You both don’t say anything for a while. You’re both an uncomfortable distance away from each other, and you didn’t want to admit that you wanted to cry right there.

“I’m sorry,” Jisung is the first to say something after that tense silence, and your brows furrow, “I… I shouldn’t have… I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll… I’ll.”

“Why are you sorry?” You asked softly, and Jisung seemed hasty. His hands were trembling as he gripped the blanket, and he didn’t make eye contact with you.

“I shouldn’t have done anything to you. Everything’s ruined now,” Jisung’s head dips, “I shouldn’t have let the stupid alcohol guide me. Fuck, (Y/N), I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Hey, nothing’s going to change between us,” You crawl towards him, still keeping the blanket firm around you as your free hand cups his cheek and lifts it up towards you. “It was both of our faults…” Jisung stares up at you, “I was the one to make the first move. If anything, it was my fault.” You let go of his face, as he watches as you sit on your feet. You swallow the lump in your throat, and utter out, “And, besides… I don’t regret anything.” Jisung’s mouth falls open, and his brows lift in what you can guess is shock, “I might not remember all of it, but I how you made me feel.”

There’s another silence, both of you staring at each other.

“I want to feel it again.”

Jisung didn’t answer right away, but his bottom lip got entrapped between his teeth subtly.

“You don’t know that,” Jisung whispers, “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Of course I do,” your brows furrow, almost angrily. “I know what I’m saying, Jisung. And I’m saying that I don’t want this to be just a once in a lifetime thing and never think of it again.” You look away, resting against Jisung’s headboard. “I know that we don’t share romantic feelings for each other. I know that, Jisung.” You look over to him, “So, I want benefits.”

“You mean…? Friends with benefits?” Jisung musters out in a low, unsure voice, “I don’t know, (Y/N). I don’t want to ruin this friendship.”

“But, that’s the whole point of it, Jisung,” you chuckle, “I know that you don’t want our friendship to weaken, and neither do I. But, Jisung, I’ve always been attracted to you. Not exactly like I want to be your girlfriend, but I want you in some way. I just don’t know if you feel the same way, so I’m saying it now. Do you want me, Han Jisung?”

He doesn’t answer right away, which makes you nervous of his answer. But, his answer satisfies you, thankfully; “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I hate to admit it, but I do. I couldn’t resist last night.”

“I know. It was my fault for urging you to do that even when you warned me not to,” you chuckle.

And, from then on, you two concluded that whenever someone needs to let off stress or steam in the form of sex, the other should be open for it. Of course, there’d be rules along with it. You didn’t want this to just be a ‘come by for sex and leave’ kind of thing, or thinking the other is romantically attracted to the other so you wanted to make some ground rules. Jisung agreed, thankfully.

There were four rules. Number One was that no one is to hear about this relationship. Not only would it cause rumors amongst school and your friends, you both agreed that it should be kept top - secret. Besides, you both didn’t want people to think you’re both in a secret relationship and that it’s more than just a friends with benefits type of relationship.

Number Two was that the minute one of you gets into a serious relationship with someone, all benefits cease. This one is quite obvious. Neither of you wanted to be defined as a cheater if either of you do end up in a relationship with someone else. No matter how much the other person wants it, if one of you is in a serious relationship, until that relationship ends and both are single, there’s no sexual activity.

Number Three was that both had to respect each other’s wishes entirely. No matter how bad they want it or how horny they might be, if the other person is uncomfortable with something or doesn’t want to have sex, then the other must respect their wishes. Again, no matter how horny or how much they want a certain thing. This also leads to a safe word between the two of you, which was just basic yellow and red. Yellow being to slow down or to take a short break and red being to stop completely without argument.

And finally, Number Four was that there’s no falling in love. This one was actually Jisung’s idea. Everything else was yours. You agreed with him, but was still skeptical about it. If you did catch feelings, you’d have to hide it. Jisung seemed pretty serious about it, though, which kind of scared you.

And, those four rules led to the present day, months after this event. You lean against a family bathroom sink with Jisung’s fingers curled around your hair, keeping your head up to watch him in the mirror as he slowly pushed himself into you. Your leggings and panties barely pushed down past your ass as Jisung undid his belt and pushed his pants down. Not even prepping you before he pushes himself into you. His cock, covered by the condom, which he had learned to always carry around, slowly dragging against your wet, oversensitive walls.

He’d been teasing you all day in the movie theatre he’d taken you to with his friends. While watching the movie alongside Hyunjin, Felix and Christopher, he was slowly playing with your clit, edging you on and on. Finally, the movie ended and after half an hour of pure torture from Jisung’s sinful hands, you dragged him to the family bathroom (which was one bathroom with a lockable door). He didn’t even hesitate before bending you over the sink, making you watch him and yourself as he fucks himself into you painfully slow.

“Oh, fuck, baby… you feel so fucking good.”

You delicately whimper at the sound of his words from behind you as he fills you. Jisung liked to call you by pet names during sex, like baby, babygirl or babe (anything with baby in it, really).

“Oh, fuck… I’m not gonna go slow, baby.” Jisung warns the minute his pelvis presses against your ass.

“I don’t care,” you groan in response, eyeing him in the reflection in the mirror, “Break me, Jisung. You’ve been teasing me all fucking day - oh my god!” you would have screamed if it wasn’t for Jisung stuffing the end of your hoodie into your mouth before his hands grip your waist before pulling out and ramming himself back into you. Once his hand lets go of your hair, your head dips down in pure bliss. Your teeth grinding against the fabric of your hoodie and your hands gripping the sink.

“I know you like it, baby,” Jisung grunts out as he starts to thrust into you, “I know how much you like it when I play with your little pussy in front of everybody like the little fucking slut you are. I know you like it, baby.” You let out choked moans at his words. The degrading words only make you wetter as you move your body back to meet with his thrusts. One of your hands reaches back to grip his wrist as Jisung’s hands dig into your hips to move your body with him. The way his cock rammed into your tight cunt burned in a blissfully sinful way.

Jisung had pulled your tank top and bra underneath your breasts so he could lean over you to play with them harshly. His hands gripping your bare, warm breasts as his chest presses against your back. His head presses against your shoulder as he breathes heavily against your neck. His tongue occasionally jutting out to lick stripes up your sensitive neck. Sucking gently on your skin, trying not to leave too many marks.

“Fuck, fuck…” Jisung curses breathily, and you try your best not to scream as he ruts into you as if it were the last time he’d ever have the chance to fuck you again. Your saliva coats the part of the hoodie that stayed in your mouth for you to bite onto. Your hands weakly grip the sink to try and hold you up, but your legs can barely hold your waist. “Oh… my god, babygirl.” Jisung sweetly moans into your ear.

Your mouth opens to let the hoodie fall out of your mouth, and you utter out, “Jisung… Jisung I can’t… oh, fuck… I can’t stand.” Jisung is quick to fix the situation by turning you around so that you’re sitting on the sink, legs thrown over his shoulder and your back and head leaning against the mirror as he fucks himself into you. Jisung doesn’t hesitate to grip onto your neck, but careful not to let off air flow, just pressing his fingers on either side of your neck as he rams himself into you. Your hands creeped up to grip his wrist, which only seemed to make Jisung more and more confident.

He pressed his hand against your core, slowly down slightly to allow himself to focus on pressing his thumb against your extremely sensitive and extremely erect clit. The minute his thumb makes contact with your sensitive bud, waves of pleasure and chills run through you, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as your back arches up, your nails digging into Jisung’s arm.

“Oh my fucking god, Jisung!” You pitifully cry out, trying your very best to contain your moans so no lingering ears would hear. But, it was getting difficult with Jisung’s hard cock thrusting ever so quickly into you and his thumb pressing firmly against your clit as his hand wraps around your neck.

“Shh… babygirl, you don’t want anyone to hear, do you?” Jisung chuckles darkly as he looks down at you, no mercy in his eyes as you clench around him. Beyond sensitive to every touch. “I want you to cum on my cock, but be as quiet as you can, baby. Try and be quiet, but I want you to cum.” His hands move from your neck to your mouth, his middle and ring finger slipping between your lips and pressing down against your tongue.

The moment his hips start to stagger and his thumb pressed harder and harder against your sensitive clit, your hip bucks violently as you feel your climax approaching. Jisung doesn’t slow down when he feels your warm walls clench around him tightly. He speeds up despite how his hips falter and tense as his own orgasm edges up, you let out a series of high pitched moans, muffled by Jisung’s finger, and Jisung lets out a string of low groans against your neck. His thumb softens against your clit, rubbing small circles to ease you out of your climax.

Your stomach twitches as Jisung pulls out of you, his thumb finally coming off your clit to gently press against your abdomen as he eases out of you. You let out a sigh as let your body relax once Jisung’s no longer in you. His fingers pull out of your mouth to deal with the condom, and you catch your breath. Your hands clutching the sink as your legs stay limp on his shoulders, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“You made such a fucking mess. How horny were you?” Jisung teases as he eyes the cum and pure wetness still seeping out of you. You glare at him.

“Very. And it’s your fault.” You snap, and Jisung raises his hands in defense.

“Hey, guilty as charged,” Jisung chuckles and pulls up his underwear and pants, not bothering to tighten the belt around him before he reaches over to grab paper towels to help clean you up.

“Still. You were the one teasing me during the movie,” you utter out as Jisung wipes away the cum with the paper towel, “Couldn’t even focus on it. You seemed to enjoy every bit of it, though.”

“You know it,” Jisung jokingly winks at you, and you playfully hit his head.

Once he’s finished cleaning you, you get off the sink to pull up your underwear and your pants, sighing deeply at the sore feeling in your core. “Fuck… Jisung, you’re carrying me back to my dorm.” Jisung couldn’t argue with you, since you’d always have the upperhand, especially since Jisung knows he can become an animal when fucking you, and usually blames it on ‘not being able to hold back’.

“As you wish, princess,” he teasingly calls you, and you glare at him as he buckles his belt before turning his back to you and crouching down for you to get onto his back.

When you do, he unlocked the door and started heading out, both of you not really caring for the wandering eyes of people who were curious why two adults came walking out of the family bathroom. Luckily, Felix, Hyunjin and Christopher were all gone, since you couldn’t spot them anywhere. The movie theatre was in the center of a mall, so you had suspected they were somewhere, roaming the stores of the mall.

“I swear, I’m going to have arms bigger than Changbin’s at some point. Having to carry you everywhere,” Jisung complains, and you groan.

“It’s not my fault all you do is go rough,” you counter, and you can see Jisung roll his eyes, “Maybe if you were a bit more gentle you wouldn’t have to carry me. But, hey, you need the workout.”

“Do you not like it rough?” Jisung teases.

“I never said that,” you mutter, and Jisung laughs triumphantly.

At first, things were a bit awkward between the two of you, but that was to be expected. It wasn’t until Jisung was knocking on your dorm room door at three in the morning and railed you while your roommate was out grabbing groceries (at three in the morning? You didn’t know why, either.) because he had just gotten into a fight with one of his friends and “needed to let off steam”. After that, everything even related to the benefits you both have turned into a normal thing, and you both seemed to get even closer with each other. You both could talk about information that would be considered weird between normal friends, but since you’ve both seen each other completely nude over a dozen times, it wasn’t as weird anymore.

“But I don’t just like it rough, you know? If it’s intimate and slow, then I don’t care,” you sighed, resting your chin comfortably on his shoulder. Jisung doesn’t respond. In fact, he frowns at you. Why? You had no clue. All the more, it was a silent walk back to the dorm buildings. Jisung dropped you off at your dorm, and your roommate, a geeky, yet strange, girl named Jeo Jeongja thanked Jisung for taking you home.

“And, by the way, (Y/N),” Jisung said before leaving, and you raise a brow as you climb up onto your bed, “I expect you to meet me at the D.R. tomorrow night. Jeongin’s gonna be outta town for the weekend.” Jisung winks at you, and your breath catches in your throat.

D.R. was your secret word for ‘dorm room’. Since saying directly, especially in front of others, that you’re going over to a boy’s dorm room when they’re roommates going to be out of town is suspicious to say the least, you both decided to come up with that.

“Are you alright with that?” Jisung asks, his tone lacing with a delicate worry.

“Definitely,” you shoot him a playful smile.

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow. See ya, Jeongja,” Jisung waves at Jeongja, who gave him a subtle wave back, not really interested or immersed in the short lived conversation you and Jisung were having. And with that, Jisung left, closing the door behind him.

There’s a subtle silence between you and Jeongja. You both might be roommates, but you could never really consider her a friend. The most you two talk to each other is when you help each other study with whatever topic. Once Jisung leaves, Jeongja sits up on her bed and stares at you with a playful smile.

“Oh my god, I don’t get how you’re not crushing on him” Jeongja giggles.

“He’s my best friend,” you sigh, laying down on your pillows to try and soothe the ache in your gut from your last session with Jisung, “I could never picture myself with him, you know. If you want him, have at it. But, be warned, he is a player.”

“Oh. I know that much,” Jeongja laughs shortly. You should’ve known, since Jeongja seemed to have ears all around the school. Every rumor eventually gets to her, and through your ears, whether you want to hear about it or not, “I heard he’s been fucking with most of the popular girls.”

“Oh, really now?” your brows raise. For some reason, it sparks an angry flame in you. Sure, you might not be in love with him, but the fact that you both have an intimate relationship makes you jealous when you hear that he’s been with other girls, but you try not to show it as much.

Jeongja shrugs a shoulder, “Just what’s been going around. I only report what I hear. And, apparently, Jisung knows all of the rumors. He just hasn’t said anything about it.”

“Well, he hasn’t talked to me about it,” you sigh, taking your phone out of your pocket, debating whether or not to talk to Jisung about what you're hearing. After a few brief moments of staring at your locked phone, you decide against it and let it fall onto your stomach. “Do you mind keeping me updated on this shit?”

“Why? Is someone jealous?” Jeongja wiggles her shoulders and brows at you, smirking.

“Hell no,” you groan, your head falling back, and you rub your eyes. Exhaustion crashing over you, “I’m going to bed, Jeongja. Do whatever you want, but don’t turn the lights back on.” You get up briefly to shut the lights off before climbing back under your blankets, slipping off your bra.

“But, it’s only nine!”

“I don’t give a shit. I’m tired.”

But, a part of you wasn’t. A part of you was beyond eager for what Jisung had in mind for tomorrow. Your aching core began to throb at the thoughts.

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ayybtch · 3 years

Text

Bread

Wanda Maximoff x f!Reader, Baker!AU + Friends to Lovers

Chapter 5 of Made With Love

Word Count: 3,292

Chapter Warnings: Our two favorite idiots are so blind it’s not even funny, lots of yearning, some brief mentions of alcohol consumption towards the end

A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for being patient with me on getting this posted. School and work have been crazy, but I’m almost done for the semester so hopefully it won't be as long for the next update. Shout out to my Grandma for sending me her paprikash recipe so I would actually know what I was talking about for this chapter. We literally never speak but she did me a real solid on this one and I will be adding paprikash into my regular cooking schedule once fall hits. Full disclosure though, I literally Googled “What wine pairs with chicken paprikash” and the wines mentioned are what it gave me. Please let me know what you think! I love reading your guys’s comments, it really makes my day.

Hey, so everyone is going to be out on a mission tomorrow night except for me. Any chance I can cash in on that raincheck? There’s a Bewitched marathon happening.

You smiled at Wanda’s message, quickly typing out your response. Definitely! Would you like to join me for bread day tomorrow?

She responded almost immediately. YES!

You couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. She had been wanting to make bread ever since the two of you made snickerdoodles. She brought it up almost constantly, mostly as a joke to get back at you for all of the times you teased her about it.

Up to this point, Wanda refused to accept any of your attempts to say thank you for helping you out through the cupcake debacle, saying that this was the sort of thing that friends were for. It only felt right that this should be the next thing to bake as your own special way of saying thank you.

As excited as you were to spend time with her and teach her how to do this, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly nervous at the same time. Why had Wanda decided to share her sexuality with you after all this time?

Okay, scratch that. You understood why she shared it with you when she did. The real question is what to do with the information now that you had it.

Was it just a general knowledge sort of a deal? Or was this her way of trying to say she was interested?

You groaned and put your head in your hands. This is why you hadn’t dated someone since your last relationship ended. You needed big flashing lights that screamed “I want to date you!” before you’d catch on, and even that didn’t work sometimes. If someone tried to be subtle, you were an absolute lost cause. You did your best to recall every interaction you had with Wanda that could even remotely be considered as her flirting or expressing interest.

She did smile at you a lot, even more than she smiled at Sam and Bucky who she clearly adored. She also certainly didn’t shy away from physical contact and had even initiated it several times. She had also remembered your coffee and bagel order from the one random time it came up weeks ago...

Suddenly, everything started to add up. All of those glances that had left your heart racing, all of those little touches...maybe Wanda was interested in you?

Your heart felt ready to burst out of your chest with joy.

Wanda didn’t arrive at the bakery until almost noon. The majority of the bread had been baked already; the only bread left to make was hers.

The two of you said your hello’s and caught up a bit as she stepped in to put on her apron and began washing her hands. Once the conversation slowed, you started your rundown for today’s bake.

“Bread is actually a lot easier than it looks but there are a couple of points we’re going to need to be careful at. I’ll remind you about them as we go about but I figured it would be good to have them all in your head now.

“We’re going to be very conscientious about temperatures this entire bake in a way we haven’t really needed to before. When we’re dealing with the yeast, we need the milk around 110 to 115o so the yeast activates properly. We also want things to be warm during the rise times, which shouldn’t be too much of an issue given the ovens have been on most of the day. Once it’s in the oven, we aren’t going to mess with it at all until the last couple minutes and that’s only if we need it to brown further.”

Wanda nodded along as you spoke. “I don’t know how much of an actual problem this is because you’re here, but I always hear a lot about overworking or underworking the dough. How do I know if it’s been kneaded enough?”

“Ah, good question! If the dough keeps getting really flat and not holding its shape, it’s underworked. If the dough is overworked, it gets kind of hard and not easy to work with. The good news is that we’re kneading by hand since it’s your first time and it’s a lot less likely to happen that way than in a mixer.”

She looked unconvinced but nodded. “Okay, so where do we begin?”

The first fifteen minutes of the bake flew by quickly. The yeast mixture had been prepared and was almost ready for the rest of the ingredients to be mixed in. Wanda was completely in awe at how the mixture looked.

To be fair to her though, the yeast mixture does look very weird if you’re not used to seeing it.

Once the flour, salt, and eggs were mixed in, the true fun began. Everything was mixed just enough to be combined into a rough, sticky ball of dough before being taken out of the mixer and onto the floured counter. Wanda followed along as you sprinkled some flour on your dough and began to knead, doing her best to mirror your motions.

You watched her out of the corner of your eye as you worked the dough, waiting to see what she would do. It was hard to hold back your giggles as you watched her. She was practically just squeezing the dough in different directions. You gave her a few minutes to see if she would work things out, but eventually, you set your dough down and moved closer to her.

“Here, let me help,” you said. Your hands moved so they were on top of hers, you tried guiding her through the motions, only for things to fail miserably.

“Okay, can I try something that might be a little weird? It’s just that I’m not used to kneading at an angle like that so it’s throwing off my muscle memory.”

She nodded and you adjusted yourself so you were now standing behind her. Your arms slid around either side of her waist and your hands rested on top of hers. This time, your hands knew what they were doing and you were able to help guide her through the motion. Even after she got it, you remained standing behind her, your chin resting against her shoulder.

The feelings that washed over you as you stood there with her were hard to describe. There was nothing necessarily comfortable about the position you were in, but your whole body felt more relaxed than it had all day. At the same time though, everything felt electrifying. You hoped she couldn’t feel the way your heart was thumping against your chest.

It wasn’t until you realized Wanda had paused and turned back slightly to face you slightly that you stepped back. An apology rose up in your throat only to die as you noticed the small smile on her face. You shot a smile back at her before moving back to your spot, turning your attention back to the job at hand.

The rest of the bake went smoothly, despite Wanda’s fretting about if the bread was rising enough. It didn’t take long before you had two perfectly round loaves of bread sitting next to each other on the cooling rack. Wanda had not stopped smiling since they came out of the oven. Even though that was her usual response, this time felt different.

For the second time that day, you were left trying to describe impossible feelings. Was it her eyes that felt different? They were lit beautifully, radiating so much joy it was impossible to not feel just as excited. But how was that any different from usual? Her eyes always captivated you and left you breathless. Maybe it was the new shade of pink lipstick she had on. It was perfectly accentuating the shape of her lips, to the point you couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to feel them pressed against yours.

You may not be able to pinpoint what the look was, all you knew is that you were grateful to be a part of why her smile was so big.

After she finished taking pictures of the loaves, she turned to you. “That was incredible! I had no idea bread could be that simple.”

You nodded along, unable to hold back a smile. “I told you it wasn’t too bad, there are just a couple spots you have to be sure to navigate well. And clearly -” you gestured towards the loaves, “- you did. Maybe I should start worrying about you stealing my job.”

Her laughter filled the kitchen at your teasing.

As her laugher began to die out, her focus turned back on to you. “Okay, so what time were you thinking of coming over? I’m making us dinner and want to try and have it finishing up right around the time you get there.”

You glanced over at the clock and then back to the to-do list written out on the whiteboard above your desk before answering, “I think it’ll probably be close to five if I had to guess. I still have to finish cleaning some stuff here and I promised to go help Charlie work out some menu options for that picnic thing that’s coming up.”

Wanda nodded along, “Are you going to that?”

“I’m working it, so I, unfortunately, don’t have much of a choice.”

She nodded again. “Same here, actually. All of the Avengers are required to be unless there’s some sort of alien invasion again or something…” She trailed off a moment before continuing. “I was planning on making paprikash. Is that okay with you? I don’t know if there’s anything you can’t or don’t like to eat.”

“I’ve actually never had that before so that would be wonderful! I’m pretty easy when it comes to food. The only things I don’t like are mushrooms and zucchini, but I’ll still eat them if I have to.”

Wanda gasped, “You don’t like mushrooms? How do you not like mushrooms?”

You just shrugged, “Okay, I’m actually pretty neutral on mushrooms. I’ll still eat them. I just don’t go out of my way to make them for myself. Zucchini is a firm no, though.”

She gave you a side-eye but relented. “Well, there are no mushrooms or zucchini in this, but just know I’m going to have to keep an eye on you from now on. I don’t know how we’ve made it this far into our friendship without me knowing you’re an anti-mushroom heathen.”

The two of you joked around for a few minutes longer before she left to start preparing for dinner.

Planning the menu with Charlie didn’t take very long, which you were grateful for. He already had a decent idea of what he wanted to do, so the main thing left was to figure out how much food to order to prepare it. The two of you also agreed upon what you needed to make. Most of your responsibilities centered around desserts, specifically pies, though you agreed to make some fresh rolls and soft pretzels as well.

You were thankful for the meeting to end though because it meant the remaining time you had left could be spent getting ready to go see Wanda.

‘Getting ready’ was perhaps a bit dramatic. You were just changing out of your usual work clothes into something a little cuter. It was nothing particularly fancy, but it was an outfit you felt both confident and comfortable in. You had also made sure to pack some toiletries that morning, allowing you to freshen up your deodorant and brush your teeth as well.

As you stepped into the elevator and pressed the button, you couldn’t help but feel a bit jittery. The past few times you’ve made your way to that part of the building you’ve been nervous about the other Avengers not wanting you there. This time though, all of your nerves could be attributed entirely to Wanda. You weren’t sure what to expect of tonight, but you were determined to have a fun night filled with food and good company.

The warm smell of paprika filled the air and made your stomach grumble as soon as you stepped out of the elevator. Once you were inside, you found Wanda in the kitchen, stirring in some additional seasonings.

“This smells incredible,” you said, setting the two loaves of bread down on the counter.

Wanda beamed. “Thanks! This is my great grandmother’s recipe and is one of my favorite things to make.” As she set the spoon down, she walked towards the fridge. “I bought some wine to go along with dinner if you would like some.”

“Yes please, wine sounds amazing right now.”

“I have a chardonnay and a Barolo, which would you prefer?” she asked, turning back towards you.

You shrugged, “Whichever one you want.”

She nodded and pulled out the Barolo. It didn’t take long for the bottle to be opened and to have a glass of wine in your hand.

It wasn’t until you took your first sip that you realized Wanda had also changed. Your breathing hitched as you looked her up and down. Gone were her jeans and old T-shirts, replaced by a pair of cut-off shorts and a stylishly oversized T-shirt. If it weren’t for the fuzzy wool socks on her feet, you’d assume she was camera-ready. Hell, even with the funny socks she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen.

You realized you were staring and abruptly began looking around the kitchen, trying to find something to do that would take your mind off of how hot Wanda looked. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Wanda shook her head no. “There’s not really anything to be done, this just needs to simmer for about another five minutes and we’ll be good to go. Why don’t you go have a seat at the table and I’ll be over in just a moment with some bread slices and butter. Once this is ready I’ll bring it in as well.”

You nodded and made your way out of the kitchen and towards the table.

It wasn’t until you were seated that you realized how well the table was set. Both seats had beautiful flatware laid out, with silverware organized neatly to the side. Underneath was a crisp, pure white table cloth. What caught your attention the most though were the two lit candles sitting between your chair and hers. It wasn’t until you noticed the candles that you also noticed the music playing softly in the background.

Everything about the setup screamed ‘fancy first date’.

Before you had much of a chance to dwell on the thought, Wanda arrived with several slices of bread and a small dish of butter. You thanked her before she walked back towards the kitchen. She returned soon after with the pot of paprikash, setting it on the hot pad in the center of the table. She walked around to her seat and soon both of you had your plates filled and began to eat.

It was impossible to hold back a satisfied sigh as you took your first bite. It tasted just as delicious, if not better than it smelled. The chicken was cooked perfectly and all but melted in your mouth. The paprika added a nice rich flavor and added extra depth to the creaminess of the sauce.

“Wanda this is incredible.”

She smiled at you brightly, “If you think it’s good by itself, try dipping the bread with some butter in it.”

You did as she said and this time instead of a satisfied sigh, you let out a satisfied moan. “You are going to have to give me this recipe. This is so good I don’t even know what to say, all I want to do is keep eating.”

Wanda laughed at your enthusiasm. “Tell you what, I’ll teach you how to make it sometime. It’s about time I taught you something in the kitchen.”

Dinner was a blast. The two of you spent more of it laughing and talking than eating. The bottle of Barolo was finished before dinner was done. It didn’t take long before it was replaced by the chardonnay.

Once dinner was over, you fought Wanda to let you help clean up the kitchen. Her argument that guests shouldn’t help was shot down as you pointed out she’s technically a guest in the bakery, yet she always helps clean up after she’s been in there. She grumbled about it but quickly conceded. It didn’t take long for the kitchen to be cleaned up and even less time after that for her to drag you over to the couch.

The first-ever episode of “Bewitched” was halfway finished by the time the two of you had settled into your spots on the couch. Currently, Samantha and Darrin were at his ex-girlfriend's house for a dinner party and the girlfriend was doing everything she could to make Samantha feel inferior. Samantha, of course, wasn’t having it and was willing to fudge her promises of not using magic to level the playing field.

Wanda laughed along perfectly in time with the sitcom track. The more she laughed, the more your attention turned from being on the TV to be on her. This was the most relaxed and happy you had ever seen her. She had a small, almost imperceivable smile that grew as she became more and more emerged into the episode. Each time she laughed, you noticed how her nose would scrunch up in the cutest way and it took everything you had to not lean over and kiss her.

What you wouldn’t give to make her as happy as this show.

It wasn’t until the end credits were about to roll that you forced yourself to look back at the screen, unsure of how she’d respond if she caught you staring.

As the next episode cued up, she reached out and grabbed her glass of wine before turning to face you.“So, what do you think? Could I have been a Samantha in another life?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Definitely, though I can’t see you being willing to hide your powers just because a man wants you to.”

Wanda nearly choked on the sip of wine she had taken. “You got me there.”

She finished the glass and set it back on the table before letting out a loud yawn. “Sorry, I probably should’ve warned you beforehand that wine makes me a little sleepy.” She paused for a moment before she continued, “It also makes me incredibly cuddly…”

A rush of emotions washed over you as you processed her words. Was she asking to come cuddle with you?

The hopeful look in her eye suggested she was.

Pure, unadulterated joy swept over your body and you had to fight the urge to jump up and down from excitement. You did your best to collect yourself before you replied, hoping that the answer was indeed what you were looking for.

“Is that your way of asking if you can come snuggle?”

She smiled at you sheepishly, which made you laugh. You moved over on the couch, moving around some of the throw pillows so you could lay down.

“Well, what are you waiting for then?”

Wanda didn’t hesitate for a moment and soon was laying on top of you, her head resting on your chest. One of your arms wrapped loosely around her back after she settled in.

A comfortable silence fell over you as you laid there together, watching Bewitched until you fell asleep.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff fan fiction

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dollslayer · 3 years

Note

Please continue the Scandal-based Steve fic, you write the best angst ever!!!!

A/N: As you wish! Thank you so much for reading, hope this is up to par 💖 (ps- if you commented on the first one I'm tagging you for this follow up, no permanent tags tho don't worry!)

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter

Warnings: pseudo-cheating, angst, alcohol consumption, swearing, love triangle, secret relationship

Part One HERE I Main Masterlist

It’s been an entire week since you walked out on Steve. He never did find the words to tell you that he wasn’t going to leave Peggy, but you never found the words to explicitly leave him, either. You were both in a game of chicken that you’d unknowingly started and neither of you had found the courage to finish it.

It was so easy when you were swept up in the moment, a storm of anger and hurt that finally came to a breaking point. But now you were past it and found yourself lost. The only thing making you feel better was seeing that Steve was having just as hard a time as you were. He wasn’t as outgoing, he was making dumb mistakes, he was off his game. You didn’t necessarily want Steve to suffer but it was reassuring in some way, to know that he felt anything for you. You just wanted this entire mess to be over.

But when the mess was over, what would you want to come of it? Do you even want to be with Steve any more? Or do you just not want him to be with Peggy? Thinking it through, what you felt for Steve was real, real enough to pull on your heartstrings and real enough to hurt. After all of the grief that Steve has caused you you’re not sure that you could properly forgive him. Maybe over time but you couldn’t see yourself trying to rebuild your relationship when the two of you had so much else to focus on.

So now you were caught in some sort of relationship purgatory because you were too afraid to end it. And he was too much of a coward to admit he’s been in the wrong this whole time. Honestly you can’t justify Steve’s actions on any level when it came down to it. His men are in the midst of war and fighting Hydra and he really thinks that a relationship is going to be their saving grace and reassurance? Bull.

On some level, no matter how deep it is, Steve saw something for her that he didn’t see in you and he felt some affection for her. Maybe saying that the relationship was just a front was his way of covering his real feelings for her. But he’d be damned if he thought he could have his cake and eat it too. You’d spent many a night cycling through this thought process and ending up right where you started.

Getting nowhere in your deliberating you decided to bury yourself in your work. You’d always felt that it was fulfilling work, you helped civilians and military alike with your work and you were damn good at it. So you plunged head-first into your codebreaking and strategy-forming and put your in-limbo relationship on the back burner.

Throwing yourself head first into work turned out to be in your best interest for the time being. The last two missions had been a success but per usual, you had gone unrecognized. That’s fine, you didn’t need to be patted on the back every time you excelled but every once in a while it would be nice. And thanks to your codebreaking, once again, you find yourself stuck in the corner of the dingy pub you had lost your mind in just a week ago. Unappreciated. Or so you thought.

You sat back thinking Steve wasn’t under Peggy’s thumb this time but he was trying his best to make the most of the moment over a pint with the rest of the commandos. And you were back in what was becoming your usual corner of the pub, sipping on a dry red wine. It was bitter on your tongue but after the week you’ve had you needed a drink, even if it meant seeing them.

“You did good back there, thank you” Bucky’s voice shook you from your thoughts. “Okay if I sit?”

You were so caught off guard by anyone really speaking to you, let alone praising you that you couldn’t find anything to say. You just stared at Bucky with wide eyes before nodding slowly. He settled into the chair next to you and took a swig from his bottle.

“You know, on the outside you don’t seem like you’re gonna be much but when you put yourself to work… it’s somethin’ else. You’re a natural.” Bucky told you.

“Um, thanks, I guess?” You brushed off the compliment to give him one of your own, “We wouldn’t be sitting here right now if it weren’t for you all. I’m just some codebreaker, you’re the one doing the leg work”

“Give yourself some credit, you deserve it.” Bucky patted you on the shoulder and for the first time in weeks you felt a spark of genuine happiness. You shyly smiled up at Bucky and took a sip of your wine.

“So, you wanna tell me what’s got Steve snappin’ his cap at everyone? You two break up?”

Your eyes rounded in surprise. You were so sure that no one had known. You were so sure Steve didn’t want anyone to so it didn’t occur to you that Bucky might’ve known.

“Did… Steve tell you? About us?”

“Didn’t have to. I ran after him to talk a few weeks ago and found you two smoochin’”

Your face heated in slight embarrassment but you nodded in understanding.

“I just… it’s not fair that he should show her off like she’s his sweetheart while I’m treated like some dirty secret. I gave him a piece of my mind and he wasn’t able to cope. But I don’t know where this leaves us. He didn’t split but there’s just no way we could go on like this.”

Bucky looked a little miffed but grunted in affirmation. He shook his head and clenched his jaw.

“I knew he and Peggy weren’t for real but what he’s been doin’ to ya ain’t right. Sorry Steve’s been such a knucklehead. My two cents, you go back to him and confront him. And if he’s too much of a punk to see what he’s got you walk.”

You shakily exhale and take another gulp before setting your palms flat against the table.

“Easier said than done, but you’re right”

“I love him, he’s my brother but forget him if he’s too much of a jerk to know what he’s got. But for now let’s just get pleasantly drunk, whaddya say?”

Rather than giving him an answer you downed the rest of your glass and put it down on the table. Bucky was looking at you with a toothy grin.

“Atta girl”

____

The evening had been as promised, you were pleasantly drunk and for the first time in weeks you were letting yourself enjoy the moment. Bucky was funny and kind to you when no one else had even batted an eye and you found yourself grateful for his company that night.

You were humming to yourself as you walked back to your room but just when you reached for the door a hand reached out for your wrist. You didn’t need to look up to know that the hand belonged to Steve. You denied yourself the comfort you found in physical contact and reminded yourself of the situation. You sighed and looked up to him expectantly.

“You and Buck? Just what the hell’s going on?” Steve demanded.

“Oh so now you want to talk to me? You only care now that you’re not my main focus?” You shot right back at him. You swayed slightly, tipsy still from the wine.

Steve’s jaw tensed and he schooled his features though you could tell he was simmering on the inside.

“No”, he said calmly, “I just wanted to know. If you’re trying to make me jealous it’s not going to work.”

“Well I wasn’t trying but apparently it is working.”

Steve’s hands balled into fists and you could see veins beginning to spout in his hands. He didn’t say anything so you continued.

“I give you an ultimatum and tell you how much you’ve hurt me and you only come back once I turn my attention to your best friend? He’s the only one that’s said a nice word to me this whole time. The rest have been caught up in the lie you’ve been spinning with Peggy!”

Your anger was getting the better of you but you were letting it. Anger got you through it the first time, it’ll get you out no matter how it ends.

“That’s not fair-”

“You’re not fair, Steve. The way you’ve been treating me, it isn’t right! I gave you a choice and you’ve been dragging your feet. I’m going to ask you one more time, Steve. Me? Or Her?”

Steve was silent again, you could tell he wasn’t thinking about what he wanted, but he was forming an answer. Deep down you knew it would come to this. He’s never going to hold your hand in public, there’s never going to be an apartment in Brooklyn, there’s never going to be an us between you. Maybe there never was.

Steve started to call your name but you shook your head and scrunched your eyes closed in a mixture of frustration and pain. Tears were welling in your eyes but you’d be damned if Steve Rogers would see a single one fall. He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you, he never did.

“I’m sorry…” Steve offered lamely.

“No, you’re not.” Maybe that wasn’t fair of you to say, Steve did look to be in genuine emotional pain over this but right now you didn’t care. If he had felt any true remorse he wouldn’t have let himself get anywhere with Peggy in the first place.

“I really did want all of that with you, I still do. We could still have it, we just need to get through this, please.”

You shook your head and started ushering him towards the door.

“No, Steve. That’s all gone now. You had your chance but I’m worth more than how you treat me.”

You opened the door and waited for him to leave.

“I think you should go. I don’t have anything left to say to you.”

With that Steve sighed heavily but left with his head hung between his shoulders. You could’ve sworn he was crying but you didn’t care if he was. He made this happen and he didn’t treat you right. So this is what happened.

Tears finally make their way down your face but you don’t feel sad. It’s cathartic almost, like a weight lifted. You’d probably put in for a transfer with the SSR just to save the team the grief but for now you’d keep your head down, keep working. Damn Steve Rogers for not seeing in you what you saw in yourself and damn anyone else that didn’t either.

#anon ask #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x peggy carter #steve rogers angst #marvel x reader #marvel au #40s!Steve #love triangle #secret relationship

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bubblegumbeech · 3 years

Text

Homemade

Day 2 Dannymay: Home

Clockwork made cookies, they were a special blend he’d invented through countless trial and error to get just right. For a ghost, they'd have enough concentrated ectoplasm to provide energy and enough positive emotion to make them enjoyable, and for a human child, he focused on getting the right flavors and physical ingredients to make them actually edible.

He set the plate down in front of Danny. The young half-ghost had been working really hard at his homework lately and Clockwork wanted to do something small to reward him for it.

“Are- did you make cookies?” Danny asked, looking up at him in confusion.

Clockwork smiled and gently ruffled his hair. “Will you tell me how they taste?”

Most ghosts lost the ability to taste early on, along with their sense of smell. Clockwork never had either though, only had glimpses into different futures with different recipes and Danny’s own reactions to them.

“Please tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve made cookies…” Danny made a face, uncertain.

Clockwork rolled his eyes and grabbed the plate again, “you don’t have to eat them-“

“I’ll eat them!” Danny grabbed the plate from Clockwork’s hands, a splash of green decorating his cheeks and forming a stark contrast against his starlit freckles.

Braced as if for impact, Danny quickly shoved one of the still warm cookies into his mouth and began to chew. Slowly his features softened into enjoyment and Clockwork got to watch as he grabbed another and then another until the entire plate was clean.

He was glowing slightly, the oven-baked ectoplasm doing wonders for his energy levels. Existing so long on ambient ectoplasm alone wouldn’t have been nearly enough for a young ghost like Danny, so it was nice to see him properly fed for once.

“Clockwork, these are amazing! How did you make them?” Danny asked, his eyes shining slightly.

“That’s a secret,” Clockwork lied. He didn’t want to admit it took him over a thousand tries to actually make something edible to a human pallet, and he had enough of a mysterious air about him that he’d get away with it.

Danny didn’t seem to mind though, he just grabbed the plate and flew over to the kitchen so he could wash it. “Okay, what do I have to bribe you with to get those again?”

Clockwork’s core hummed in satisfaction, it was almost a primal instinct to care for one’s child and it was always nice to be appreciated. “Finished homework would be a nice start.”

Danny scoffed, a small smile on his face. “I think you need to lower your standards. I mean, I’m passing history now right?” The single dish was cleaned, dried, and put away in less than a moment.

“Thank you Daniel,” Clockwork said. Danny didn’t get nearly enough appreciation from those around him, it never hurt to give him a little when he could.

A light green blush built on Danny’s cheeks and he looked away in an attempt to hide his reaction. “Yeah well, you make cookies like that again and I’ll clean your whole clock tower.”

Clockwork smirked, lifting an eyebrow. “The infinite spirals of my clock tower and the unending trails of time that exist ever moving inside of it would certainly appreciate a touch up.”

Danny balked, “uh… maybe I can do a room at a time?”

“You don’t have to clean anything for cookies Daniel. I’d rather you eat than not.”

Relieved, Danny rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled. “Thanks Clockwork.” He sighed and dropped his hand, looking over at the window to the realms outside. “Ugh, I don’t wanna go to school tomorrow.”

There wasn’t much to say, so Clockwork didn’t. He didn’t particularly care about Danny’s academics or whether or not he succeeded in school, but he knew intimately how much it mattered to Danny. It was tied to his two obsessions after all.

He had to go to school so he could both make his family happy and be there to protect the other students, he had to succeed if he ever wanted to fulfill his dreams of working at NASA, the human space program. At the thought of absolute failure he would stress, shut down, and grow apart from those close to him. It would put strain on his obsessions and could lead to internal core damage. It was better for now, that Clockwork simply gave him time and the chance to try and keep up.

“You’re always welcome to visit if you need more time,” he offered.

“I know. I’ve uh, still got homework to finish…”

“By all means.” Clockwork followed Danny out of the kitchen and watched as he sat back down to finish his homework, content with the healthy glow the cookies gave Danny.

He turned back to his own work and watched for anything that didn’t fit or was causing trouble, but his mind was on the next recipe he wanted to try.

The next recipe ended up being a casserole.

Cliche to be sure, but decidedly more filling and sufficient than just a plate of cookies, and this time when Clockwork set it down in front of his young ward he was met with more enthusiasm than suspicion. Despite the bright pink color and the more… mobile parts of the dish. It was difficult to make something that met all the necessary requirements to properly nourish a halfa and have it look appealing so Clockwork had hardly tried.

Danny dug in.

“This is the most amazing casserole I’ve ever had in my life and that includes any and all ecto-contaminated food I’ve ever snuck out of the fridge without my parents noticing how did you do that?” Danny asked, shoveling another forkful into his mouth.

Clockwork purred at the praise, and was glad to see Danny’s glow get even brighter. It was so pale before, barely even there in a way it never should have been with Danny’s obsession and power. “I suppose the difference would be that I was doing it intentionally.”

Danny nodded. “Makes sense.” He took a moment to pause from devouring his food to look up over at Clockwork sitting across the table from him. “Are you going to eat anything?”

How thoughtful. He should have probably prepared for that but, well. “I’m afraid trying to eat something with that much physical matter from the human world would go poorly for me. If you’re uncomfortable I can make some tea?”

“Oh,” Danny looked at his half finished meal, realizing something and unable to react properly to it. “Yeah, tea sounds nice, can I have some too?”

“Of course,” Clockwork agreed easily. He would be using a delicate mixture of herbs and spices from different parts of the infinite realms that Sojourn liked to gift him whenever he bothered to visit. None of them should have any adverse effects on the boy, and if he chose the right mixture, it might actually help him to calm down slightly.

By the time the tea was finished and cooled enough to drink, Danny had finished his meal and cleaned up so that the two could sit and enjoy their tea together.

Danny spent a moment too long staring into his cup, the swirling neon blue of the forgoent leaves—a small blue plant native to some of the darker forest realms, similar to the mortal realm’s forget-me-nots. Clockwork didn’t know what he was thinking, couldn’t see a timeline where he actually spoke his thoughts out loud. He sighed and took a drink of his own cup, the tea’s soothing blend serving to take off the slight edge of his anxiety. It was difficult caring for a child, even with his power.

“Thanks for the tea Clockwork,” Danny said, “and uh, the casserole too.”

His voice was quiet, but sincere and Clockwork accepted his thanks with a small nod of his head. The rest of the evening went on like that, mostly silent but not unpleasant in each other's company. When Danny left to go back to the mortal realm he paused at the clock tower’s door and quickly turned back to Clockwork, pulling him into a quick, tight hug that had him almost freezing time instinctually before Danny pulled away and quickly flew off.

Clockwork stayed there, floating in the entryway to his lair and felt his core practically screaming at him in delight.

He needed a way to distract himself, maybe he could start working on another recipe?

Pie was unnecessarily difficult, Clockwork decided, despite its place as the most popular fairy-tale dish ever mentioned. He’d made no less than three thousand six hundred and four different variations of the damned recipe and not a single one had even stayed together, much less been even remotely edible.

He sighed. At this rate, even freezing time wouldn’t help him accomplish this before Danny arrived. He was admittedly impatient for an immortal entity with all of time under his control, and he wanted to actually be able to spend time with his ward rather than an eternity trying, and failing, to bake something.

Which is exactly how Danny had caught him taking a failed experiment out of the oven, having arrived while Clockwork was distracted.

“Is that a pie?” he asked, excitedly reaching for it.

Clockwork quickly held it out of the young halfa’s reach, unwilling to allow him near his utter failure.

Danny blinked, his face drooping into an exaggerated pout, “I can’t have some?” Clockwork felt his core ache a little. Maybe he should have stopped time until he got it right?

“It’s not fit for consumption at the moment,” he said, carefully floating it out of reach and towards the end of the counter. He didn’t have anything resembling a human trash can, it was uncomfortable to keep waste in one’s lair afterall, so he’d have to leave it on the counter for now. He could dispose of it properly later, maybe as fertilizer for his garden.

“Oh don’t be like that,” Danny said, floating around Clockwork and completely ignoring his very valid warning. “I’m sure it’s fine, everything else you’ve made has been delicious.”

Well yes, everything else he’d made had been very much intended to be delicious. This one was a failure. However, Clockwork wasn’t going to admit to the amount of effort that had gone into each and every piece of food he’d made for his young ward. It would be uncomfortable at best for Danny and horridly embarrassing for Clockwork.

“I’ll make another one for next time, please-” Clockwork didn’t even finish his sentence before Danny was grabbing a piece of the crust and shoving it into his mouth. “Daniel!”

Danny smiled. “Yeah okay not your best work, but it’s edible for sure.” He grabbed another piece and ate that as well and Clockwork didn’t really know what to do. On one hand, he was right: it was certainly edible, there would be no adverse effects caused by Danny eating the food, and it would be just as nourishing as the other meals Clockwork provided. But on the other hand, it could not have tasted pleasant. All of the futures where he tried serving this to Danny as normal were met with disappointment at best.

So why was he content to eat it like this?

“I knew you couldn’t be perfect,” Danny snickered. He grabbed a fork and a plate from their places in the kitchen and then floated over to the table, pie-adjacent pastry in hand. “Are you gonna make tea again?”

“Yes,” Clockwork answered, glaring at the pie. The horrid pie that Danny was eating because not every single meal needed to be perfect and Clockwork, as always, had been over-complicating everything.

The atmosphere at the table was soft and comfortable. It was certainly something Clockwork was unused to, enjoying company for company’s sake. And to think they wouldn’t be here as they were, had Clockwork succeeded fully with his task. It brings up a question, actually thousands of different, related, questions, about failure and success and the weight of either.

Danny smiled at him from over the half eaten pie. Clockwork smiled back.

An alarm went off and Danny shoved one last bite into his mouth before flying off towards the main room of the clocktower. “Shoot, I forgot I promised Jazz to let her help with my english homework.”

There was a flurry of papers while Danny tried to gather all of his things. Pencils shoved precariously into his bag and folders of half finished homework assignments quickly followed. The half finished pie on the kitchen table was completely ignored, as it should have been to start with.

“You seem to be in a rush,” Clockwork said, watching amusedly. Either Danny had forgotten Clockwork’s particular powerset in his haste, or he hadn’t thought to ask for a medallion. Either way Clockwork found it too amusing to offer his aide unless Danny thought to ask.

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny tried to say over the strap of the backpack he held in his mouth in lieu of his busy hands. “I’ll be back home s-”

Danny blushed and stuttered out something awkward and intended to drag attention away from the slip of his tongue. But Clockwork just smiled, watching the boy finally gather his things and quickly make his exit promising to come back tomorrow for dinner.

Wasn’t there a human saying about home and food?

#dannymay2021 #Danny phantom #Clockwork #Lost time #danny fenton #Bee's writing

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