#and on the other side.. aren’t I already losing my fucking mind? hasn’t he already checked out of this friendship?

[tiredsadpeach]

The urge to isolate and only talk to my family, my bf, and one other friend lmao

#it’s just so #I’m tired of hurting #if he comes to me little I’ll still be his cg because that’s like leaving a child imo #but just ever since the bullying incident thing I have really really been rethinking that friendship #and all those connected to him #and I hate that because liek on one side that’s my fp I think I’d lose my fucking mind without him #and on the other side.. aren’t I already losing my fucking mind? hasn’t he already checked out of this friendship? #you literally tweeted SHUT UP repeating after I asked you if you were okay one time lol #whenever we get in a fight I get to see all the awful things you say about me in that time #you can’t even be happy for me and my bf just because things moved so fast I understand being worried but I’m so fucking happy cant you say #just once that despite it all you’re happy for me? I know I was happy for you at times I was also worried sick lmao #I make one cent tweet and you get mad because I didn’t say anything to you immediately when we’ve known each other for a while and it takes #me some time before I can do that like idk what else you want from me I wait so that I don’t explode and say something I don’t mean #I always have and everytime that’s a problem even though I’ve told you before #I just #idk #2022 killed this friendship I think and I hate that

[k-hotchoisan]

In my head (San x fem!reader)

HERE I GIVE U SOME AMBIENCE:

Synopsis:in my head, I see you all over me; in my head, you fulfill my fantasies.

San has the fattest crush on you—and it heightens even more when you mentioned offhandedly that you’d fuck him.

A/n: thanks Jason Derulo. horny ass song 💥😐

Enjoy this Drabble while I work on the final chapter of How to be a Heartbreaker ❤️

Word count: 4.9K

Genre/warnings: straight up smut, gonna do my best for some sexual tension, drinking but no drunk sex because both are sober enough to consent, creaming, multiple orgasms, choking, light choking (san gets choked ❤️), riding, unprotected sex

Choi San doesn’t know when or how it started, but something definitely clicked in him—the butterflies abdomen, the way his words stop at his throat when the smell of your shampoo hits him, and the way his stomach turns when your gaze catches his. He catches himself drifting off to the thoughts of him being with you, and sometimes—even fucking you. But of course he would never say that, not when you’re constantly playing around with him from time to time, just to get a rise out of him.

“San”, you call out, snapping the male from his daydreams. He turns and gives you his attention. You tilt your head at him and he immediately starts wondering how your neck would be like littered with hickeys from him, or how you’d look like with his hands around your throat. “Pass me the notes. I need to hand it over to Wooyoung”, you ask. He quickly bunches the bunch of papers into your hands and you hold his stare for little longer before turning around to Wooyoung.

And then San’s eyes happen to land on your ass as you turned around—perked up as you reached over to where Wooyoung was—ass right up in San’s face. His mind immediately wanders to just bending you over and fucking you senseless at this point, and the thought of it just hardens his cock beneath his jeans. He doesn’t know why he can’t stop thinking about it but he’s not complaining.

But as he’s sucked in his own imaginations, he hears you squeal and you fall, landing right into Wooyoung’s lap. Wooyoung laughs, holding you by your arms as you tried to steady yourself. Something pricks in San, and he gets slightly annoyed, as he sees you giggling on Wooyoung’s lap.

Wooyoung moves closer to your ear and whispers, “aren’t you doing a little too much? San’s a pretty possessive guy.” You pull away from him and smile innocently. “It’s fine. It’s fun to poke him a little. He can’t do much since we aren’t together anyways.” Wooyoung raises an eyebrow. He’s A LOT touchier compared to San, but when he glances over to San, San’s already burning a hole behind your head with his stare. Wooyoung only scoffs at how gullible San is, and decides to push you away so you stay properly seated before San actually loses his shit.

You sighed as you plop back to your position beside San. Your gaze meets his and he cuts it immediately, you see red creeping up his neck and cheeks. You couldn’t help but surprise a smirk. You tuck your hair behind your ears and hum as you sink back into whatever you were reading.

Thursday rolls around and you’re window shopping for clothes on your phone. You feel a tap on your shoulder and Wooyoung appears behind you, with his signature smile. “Hey”, you greet, leaning to his side to give him a quick hug which he reciprocates. The both of you began getting absorbed into your own conversations.

San spots you in the crowd and was about to approach you for a meal, only to pause quickly the moment Wooyoung’s face comes into view, the both of you seemingly engrossed with talking to each other. San pouts slightly, deciding if he wants to approach you. But as your figure starts disappearing from view, San strengthens his resolve and walks over to the both of you.

“How are things with San?” Wooyoung asks. You tilt your head to face the raven-hair male. “He hasn’t been doing anything.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“No why the hell would I be?”

“‘Cause your mind seems pretty preoccupied with him recently.”

“That’s funny because that’s true. Fuck, he’s actually really cute. I’d love to be dicked down by him honestly.”

San’s world stops at that very moment and he stayed rooted behind you, his hand already stretched out to get your attention. His mind is thrown into a whirlwind upon hearing those words come right out of you mouth. Fuck. The way he wanted to just grab you and fuck you right at a corner. His mind was in a haze and he doesn’t realise until you vanished from his sight.

Wooyoung cocks an eyebrow at your straightforwardness. “Please never say that because I just threw up a little. San would fucking disintegrate if he heard that.” You laughed and shoved Wooyoung as the conversation drifts off to another topic.

The next few days for San were a blur. Every time you appeared before him, your words would echo in his head, and he would shift uncomfortably in his seat the moment his imagination of bending you over and fucking you senseless, and whatever positions he wanted to fuck you dumb in. His fantasies climbed from wanting to just taste your lips and feeling your skin to filthy and sexual pleasures. He wonders how long he could handle before he burst since fucking into his hand while imagining you sucking him off could only satisfy him so much. He sighs as he cleans himself up, another session leaving him relatively unsatisfied.

He exits his bathroom after a shower and snuggles in his bed as he unlocks his phone to check for messages. There was one from you—asking if he was going to Hongjoong’s party tomorrow. He replies with a “yeah of course” before staring at the chat, then closing the app. You and San really didn’t text very regularly, only conversations popping in and out.

He shuts his eyes, trying to trace back to when his heart started fluttering for you and it vaguely comes to him—it was probably the accumulation of constantly being around each other, the way you laughed at all his lame jokes and paid attention to him when his friends didn’t manage to hear him. Soon enough, he felt himself going soft whenever it came to you, and even his friends noticed.

And by the time he realised it himself, he was already head over heels. Every small movement you did around and towards him, he was fucking whipped for it, and he enjoyed showering you with acts of services and light flirting.

San sighs as he pulls the covers over himself, trying to falling asleep, with you being the last thing on his mind as he slowly drifted off.

You sat right on his pelvic area, smiling as you feel his cock harden beneath you. San groaned, unable to move his body as you grind down gently on his clothed cock. “Does it feel good, San?” you asked, barely hanging on, hungry on lust. “Please”, San cried out, buckling his hips to meet yours. You pulled your panties to the side, and your cunt is just dripping for him. San felt himself about to snap.

And his eyes flutter open. What the fuck. He glanced down at his boxers, now stained. A whole ass wet dream at this point was ridiculous. “Fuck me”, he groans, still half awake. It was already 11am by then, and he goes to wash up.

San arrives to the party with Wooyoung in the late afternoon. “What’s the occasion though?” San asks as he scans the room, particularly to look for you. He’s dressed up in a navy rugby shirt and khaki trousers, his hands hiding in his pockets.

“I think he just wanted to throw a private party to destress, like a mid semester party”, Wooyoung replies fitting his shades in his hair. “Oh damn, there’s y/n!”

San’s gaze immediately whips to where Wooyoung pointed at, which makes Wooyoung scoff in amusement.

Your eyes meet San and Wooyoung’s and your expression lightens up. San feels something stuck in his throat the moment he sees you all dolled up in a pretty dress. His mind starts to wander again, as his breath hitches.

“Hey you two,” you smile, giving the both of them a quick hug. And of course, the smell of your shampoo hits him and he’s ready to just melt into you. He wants to keep you in his arms and never let go.

“Hey. You look good, y/n”, San manages, unable to keep his eyes off you. You feel yourself grow shy, but you step closer to him, your body leaning into his, freezing him into place, and you return the compliment, “you’re looking really handsome, too.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Am I interrupting something here?” He asks sarcastically, and you break into laughter, missing out at how red San was getting. You link your arms with Wooyoung and poke his cheeks, “aw don’t feel left out!” Wooyoung slaps your arm and you let go playfully.

“I’ll catch the both of you in a bit. I’m gonna find Hongjoong”, you say, waving at them before walking off.

“Fuck, she’s so cute”, San breathes the moment you leave the area.

“Fuck, you’re so whipped for her”, Wooyoung echoed. “I’m gonna get some drinks. You want any?” San then requests for a mock-tail, not really interested to get drunk so early. His eyes scan the room and he spots you with Hongjoong. The both of you were happily engaged in a conversation. Hongjoong’s eyes glance over to meet San’s and then back to yours, and then he leans in to whisper something to you, and pulls away as pink flushes your cheeks. San’s eyebrows furrow, unsure if it was from frustration or confusion. He suddenly wonders if he should have asked for an alcoholic drink instead.

Wooyoung comes back with drinks in his hand and passes his drink to San. San takes a sip and lets the fizzy drink dance on his tongue. He slips into conversation with Wooyoung as they find a comfy seat at a corner.

A few long minutes later, you walk over with Hongjoong. You glance at San and gesture him to make room for you, which confuses San for a moment but he isn’t about to let that opportunity of being physically close to you slip, especially not when the couch had barely enough space for the three of you. He scoots over as you plant your ass down beside him, your knees touching his.

Hongjoong suggests a small party game between the four of you and there was an unanimous agreement quickly.

“Loser has to take a shot”, Hongjoong states, pouring in an alcoholic mix into a shot glass and the punishment was set.

From time to time, your knee would bump into San’s and he was trying his best not to notice it. Then, your arms would brush against his shoulder. As Wooyoung lost the next round, you squealed in delight and laughter, leaning in more into San, your body pressing onto his, almost hugging him.

Your ass loses the next following round and you down the shot and bring the shot glass up to show its emptiness, and as you do, you fall too far behind and San catches you on instinct, his arm curling around your waist, face just inches away from yours. You hold the stare for a second before breaking into laughter, brushing your fingers gently on his lips. “I’m fine, San. The couch has a backing.”

San barely snaps out of it, almost just wanting to dive in and eat you up, but he holds himself back. He pushes you back upright and you thanked him with a light pinch on his cheek before settling the glass down and continuing the game.

A few more rounds pass, and San loses two rounds, he decides to clock out before he really does something stupid if he does get drunk. After the final shot, he leans back onto the couch, watching the three of you continue the game. You take his half-full drink and slip the straw the between your lips as you lean back with him, stealing sips of his drink. San doesn’t look too bother with you stealing his drink, he’s looking bothered that you’re sharing the same straw with him. You giggle as you glance into his silt eyes.

Fuck he really looks so good. Your fingers play around with the straw as you try to suppress the smile. His fingers go up and brush the corners of your lips. “You’ve got juice there. How the hell do you even manage that when you’re drinking off a straw?”

You shrug, leaning over to settle the cup onto the glass table. Your hand wanders to his thigh which sends electric shocks through San as you slap his thigh lightly. “You’re not playing already?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “no. I’m watching my alcohol intake. You know how lightweight I am, y/n.” You surprise a smile, rather impressed at his self-control. The alcohol was starting to hit a little, so you’ve been stealing sips of San’s drink to keep yourself sober. Both Wooyoung and Hongjoong weren’t pissed drunk, neither did they force any of you to down the shots when you couldn’t, which you definitely appreciate. Another slow shot you take, and you were laughing, pointing at Wooyoung, your body pressing down onto San’s lap, and another hand absentmindedly squeezing his thigh. It’s taking all of San’s self control not to just pounce at you at this point because he really wants to. He just wants to eat you up, feel up every part of your body, push you against the couch and just driving his dick in-

“Okay, I need the washroom”, you announce. “Too much drinks.” Hongjoong points, “second floor, to the right.” You thank him and walk off. The couch suddenly feels way too light, San thinks.

More minutes pass, Wooyoung and Hongjoong were getting pretty damn drunk. The game had already stopped since a long while ago, now Wooyoung talking to another guy and Hongjoong dancing with his peers. San starts worrying that you might have passed out in the toilet or something.

He leaves the couch and goes up the stairs, remembering Hongjoong’s directions to you. He reaches an unfamiliar door which he thinks it’s the toilet you’re in, and knocks.

No response. He knocks again.

“Y/n, are you in there? You’ve been gone for awhile.”

More silence follows. San starts feeling anxious at the prospect that something might have happened to you. He knocks again, and then adds, “I’m coming in.”

He pushes down onto the handle and to his shock, the toilet’s not locked. He pushes the door open and no one’s there. Panic turns into confusion, because what the fuck is going on?

“Sannie!” You squealed. He turns to your direction so quick that he doesn’t know how he doesn’t get whiplash from doing so. You stood a few meters from him, smiling. He notices the door behind you ajar.

“You…”, he trails off, trying to piece things together. “Oh right. I needed a bit of fresh air at the balcony. I asked permission from Hongjoong to use one of the guest rooms, because I needed to charge my phone and I fucking fell asleep on the bed. I just woke up like, ten minutes ago.”

San continues to stare at you, confusion still written all over his face. He thinks about how ridiculous this all sounds, and at the same time he doesn’t want to think—not when it’s just the both of you standing across each other. It was like god’s given chance.

You stretched, and take a breath, “I’m heading back in. I think everyone else is probably fucking drunk by this point. I’ll catch you later”, you wave, entering the guest room and closing the door behind you.

Only the door to be stopped by San. He steps into the room with you, engulfing you up with his gaze as he shuts the door behind him, and inches closer to you. His eyes are radiating with some sort of emotion—lust, desire, jealousy, anger? Oh my, did you play too much with your small touches when y’all were playing the game? That doesn’t intimidate you though, instead, it sparks some sort of playfulness you want to poke San with.

You ignore him and head for the bed, the sheets already creasing from your little nap, your shoes were kicked off near the balcony doors. San takes a deep breath, approaching you slowly, taking in your figure as you lie sideways, your dress hiking up all the way to your thigh as you were on your phone, connected to your cable. You turn your body, back on the sheets and your phone right above your head.

“Y/n”, San starts. Your eyes dart to him. “Yeah, San, what’s up?” You asked. “Are you gonna lie down or what? The bed’s really fucking comfy.”

He’s at a loss here. His mind is racing through so many of his thoughts and fantasies. And you were just there, inviting him in. His sanity is slowly thinning, and he just wants to eat you up right then and there. He walks over to the bed and sits near you, drinking in your features. His cock is hardening already.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” You tease. He shakes his head, and you reply, “because you definitely have something on yours.” Before he could make sense of it, you grab his collar and pull him into a deep kiss, licking his bottom lip.

Ah, fuck. San’s head isn’t working. He was lured in by your kiss and he’s going haywire because he never thought that this day would come.

And he’s not letting it slip away that fucking easily. No. Not when he’s been fantasising about it for so many fucking weeks already.

His hands cup your cheeks as he steadied himself with another arm on the creased sheets. “Fuck, you taste so good Sannie”, you whisper, licking his bottom him. He feels his cock push against his trousers, and he doesn’t know how much more he can take. “It’s the fruit punch isn’t it?” You tease. San smiles in between kisses as he bites your bottom lip gently, earning a soft moan from you.

San breaks from the kiss shortly, as his gaze slides to your hiked dress. In his head, he’s already undressing you and it’s driving him fucking nuts. You cup his cheeks and squeeze. “Stop undressing me in your mind and undress me for real”, you say. He swallows as he slithers a hand underneath your dress, finding the fabric as his thumb hooks it, and tugs your panties down. San spots a trail of arousal connecting from your wet pussy to your stained underwear, and that drives him up the wall even more.

You lift your ass, then legs up to let the undergarment slide off smoothly. He drops it somewhere on the sheets, as he dives in for another hungry and messy kiss. You feel his erection pressing onto your thigh, and you whine softly.

“Fuck, y/n. You don’t know how you look right now. I don’t know how much more I can take,” San confesses, pushing his trousers down, his erection even more evident, pushing hard against his boxers.

You laugh. “I think I do. And I really want you right now.”

San litters your neck, shoulders and chest with kisses and love bites, the sensations producing moans and whimpers. His fingers travel down your sides, looking for the zipper, and he finds it, instantly pulling it down.

“Didn’t know you were the impatient type”, you tease, pulling up the dress over your head, your lace bra the only piece of article on you.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this”, San says, both hands creeping under your bra, giving both tits a squeeze. You gasp, feeling it in your pussy. He pushes the bra upwards, and sucks your nipple, the other finger fondling with the other nipple. Your fingers entangle with his locks as he licks you up hungrily, as you try to ground yourself as waves of pleasure slowly start to build.

He stops and leaves you panting. San straightens himself and his stares down at you, traces of doubt and uncertainty already faded as he pulls his shirt over his head, and you swallow hard as you stare at his bare, muscled body. The both of you are gonna drive each other crazy, that’s for fucking sure.

San pushes your legs open, his eyes drinking in the sight of your wet and leaking pussy, all for him. He leans in and starts eating you out. You cry out in pleasure the moment his tongue flicks up to your clit, grabbing his hair.

“You’re my good girl right?” He asks, his voice vibrating to your clit, making it more sensitive. “Yes, I am, Sannie”, you manage out.

He smiles and continues licking your wet cunt as if he hadn’t had a meal for the longest time. Every lick just made you even wetter as the knot in your stomach tightens. He soaks his fingers with his spit, then circles around your pussy, rubbing against your clit before plunging them in. Your body arches in bliss, your fingers tugging San’s hair as the other grips the sheets desperately.

“Fuck. San, you’re driving me insane”, you cry out. San kisses your cunt as he pumps his fingers into you.

“No. You’re the one who’s driving me insane”, he corrects you. He’s not wrong. He had so many fucking fantasies, countless amounts of just wanting to be in you.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He coos, rubbing your clit as he fucks you with your fingers. You nod. The pleasure was getting too much because the knot in your stomach was threatening to break.

“San, I’m cumming. Fuck it feels so good”, you cry out, eyes rolled back as your orgasm shakes your entire body, your legs shaking, and San not relenting as he continue to finger you and lick you clean through your orgasm. He fucking loved how your pussy is clenching around his fingers desperately and it only riles him up to quickly stuff you full with his cock.

He gets up, and licks your cum off his fingers, pushing them to your lips. You take them voluntarily, sucking on his fingers and your arousal. He smirks as he pulls his fingers out, to remove his boxers. His lengthy cock springs out, precum glistening on his red and angry tip.

“Look at you, covered in cum, looking fucked out just from my fingers. How are you gonna handle my dick then?” He throws, leaning in, stroking your overstimulated cunt with his leaking cock. You feel your pussy pulsate at the feeling of cock just inches away from you. You grab his face with both hands, pulling him closer. “Won’t know if we don’t try”, you muse, spreading your legs further, rubbing your cunt on his cock, meaning softly at the sensation. San takes another deep breath, and you see his invisible strings of rationale snapping one by one. God, it was so fucking fun to poke him. You don’t know how long he’s been like this, but it was probably a pretty fucking long time, looking at his reactions.

He pushes an inch and you wince from the pleasure. The last of his rationale barely hangs on as your wall clenches around him beautifully. Every inch he pushes in, he starts losing it, and so were you, loving how his cock was sending so much sensations through your overstimulated cunt. “Fuck, you’re so tight, y/n. You feel so fucking amazing.”

His eyes roll back as his balls are right at your pussy and you cry out at how fucking full you feel. Tears were starting to pool at the corners of your eyes from the immense pressure, and it only mounted as he started fucking into you.

The obscene sounds of skin slapping bounced off the walls, and your moans with San’s weren’t covered any better. San was reciting and moaning your name like a mantra—stating how much he loved your pussy, how tight you were, and how he feels that he can’t get enough of fucking you. All of which just made your pussy squeeze him out even more.

San suddenly stops fucking you and pulls his cock out of you, his precum and yours linking by a thin string. You whine at the empty feeling, your pussy clenching at nothing. He moves in further onto the bed, near the headboard as he links your fingers with his and he brings you onto his lap.

You don’t sit on his dick yet, only his lap, his his hands stroke your sides, sending shivers through your spine as he pulls you in for another greedy kiss, now more messier than ever. While he was distracted with the kiss, you feel for his cock, stroking it gently as San moans in between kisses, and slip it right into your pussy. Stars explode beneath your eyelids when you do. What the fuck. His cock fills you up to the brim, poking at your sensitive spots. You swear you felt a slight bulge from how fucking big his cock is. You barely had time to register as your legs trembled in pleasure, while the man in front of you had his head thrown back, crying in pleasure as he slowly buckled his hips.

“San. Wait, fuck it feels too much”, you cry out, clawing at his chest.

He barely recovers as he pulls himself back to face you, red tinting his cheeks, looking half lidded from the pleasure. “That’s the whole fucking point babe”, he says, pressing the slight bulge at your abdomen, causing your legs to shake and more noises come out of you. “You take my cock so well. We should fuck like this more often.”

Every movement you make just pushes San’s cock right to your g-spot and your eyes roll back. Soon enough, you were riding off him, bouncing on his cock. Your hands crawl up to San’s neck and moves his head back a little more for access.

So you started fucking his cock with your hand around his neck. No doubt, it was driving him fucking insane. He loved the pressure you put on his neck and around his cock, both stimulating him perfectly. Chokers would look so fucking lovely on him. You know you wouldn’t last.

“San, I’m gonna cum again,” you say, taking heavy breaths as he continues to buckle his hips into you.

“Go ahead. Scream my name”, he replies, pushing his thumb past your lips. And you did. Like how he hummed your name like a mantra, you screamed out his as your second orgasm hits your cunt sending you into a spiral as you spasm against San’s cock. He whimpers, “fuck that feels amazing when you cream on my dick like that.” Your eyes were totally fucked out at this point, barely able to focus on what he was saying as you continued to ride out your orgasm.

“Be a good girl and take my cum”, he instructs, albeit, pretty broken considering that he had his cock in you. You nod, pressing a kiss on his forehead before letting him rut into you as he fondles with your tits.

“So good. So fucking good. I love you. Fuck”, he confesses as he paints your cunt in white ropes, his dick twitching so much. Your heart speeds up at his confession more than him cumming in you though.

You pull yourself to face him, his dick still in you, and you laugh, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I love you too, Choi San.”

San’s heart flutters and his breathing quickens. He doesn’t know what shocked him more—his confession in the midst of him cumming, or yours.

“Ah, San, you’re hard again”, you squeal in surprise, feeling him fill you up with his cock again. The surprise turns into pleasure as your eyes roll back at how full you were feeling from his cock once again.

“Y/n, I don’t think I’m done yet”, he whispers, his hand landing on your ass. “And I don’t think you’re gonna walk tomorrow at this rate.”

True to his word, he left you fucked out, cum spilling out of your pussy, your limbs sore by the end of it after clearing another two fucking rounds. San was a fucking terrifying beast. Not that you were complaining.

“Don’t sit up yet. Let me clean you out first”, San says, who wanted to steal a whole roll of toilet paper to clean you. You grab his arm to stop him and that halts him in his tracks. You point to another room within the guest room. “There’s a bathroom there.”

San blinks. Right. But also, how fucking rich is Hongjoong? He walks over to grab a roll and then starts gently cleaning you up, peppering you with kisses on the way.

“Was I too rough?” He asks, stroking your head. “I’m sorry if I was, it’s just that honestly, I’ve actually really liked you for a long while and I had fantasies about you and stuff…”, and he trails off, embarrassed.

“And that’s why I’ve been teasing you. You’re so adorable when you’re blushing around me. How could I not have noticed?” You reply, giggling into his chest. San pouts, be he’s glad that it worked out, though honestly thinking about it just made him want to fuck you out even more.

The both of you were cuddling under the sheets now, your head on his chest as he had you wrapped in his arms.

“We should wash up”, San suggests, twirling your hair.

“Yeah we should but you need to carry me. My legs are jelly because of a certain someone”, you pout, smacking his chest.

San only laughs, and then nods. “Anything for you, darling.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #smut #ateez san #choi san smut #Spotify

[jackiepackiee]

How bout 16!stormbringer chuuya x reader where reader is one of the targets that veralines tryna kill and him and adam have to save them but their in school so adam and chuuya have to like follow them around all day and make sure nothing happens.

𝟣𝟨!𝒞𝒽𝓊𝓊𝓎𝒶 𝓍 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 - 𝒱𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃𝑒, 𝒜𝓈𝓈𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

𝒯𝓎𝓅𝑒 - 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈 / 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓁𝑜𝑔𝓊𝑒

Will DIE so he doesn’t lose you

Wanted to state that first, I mean he’d go full corruption on the city and have his power overwhelm him if it means you’re safe

Especially now, since your death would be caused by him (not his fault, but would think it was)

Things also depend on if he’s already lost the flags or not

If he hasn’t?

Well he isn’t fully aware of the threat

He also isn’t aware of the pain

But if they’ve passed…

He knows how quickly the king of assassins will strike

And with the pain of losing his only friends all at once, he’s like a guard dog.

And if Verlaine is a bitch and sends his own spies or small assassins?

Chuuya will OBLITERATE them

He can’t very well kill Verlaine that quickly

But, he can fight him off

And keep him off your trail

Originally found out by a threat by Verlaine

Some cryptic letter in French left on your pillow

(He broke into your house, left a note, and left, all undetected. What’s scarier?)

You couldn’t read it, so you skipped on up to your favorite person, Chuuya, and asked him to translate it (even if you can read French, the letter made absolutely no sense. Riddles and mentions of names you don’t know)

His eyes stilled, no longer moving left to right as they had when he was engaged by the writing. Their usual light tone when he was with you had disappeared.

“Chuu? What’s wrong, you look…”

“Nothing, it’s nothing. You know what, I probably left this at your house last weekend… Don’t you have school? How about I walk you?”

He loved walking with you, a great start to his day. But today’s motives were different. He needed to make sure you were safe.

“Okay! Wait… who is that?!”

It’s… well it’s Adam. Maybe he could get some practice in on explaining confusing situations with you now?

“Hello, I’m Adam. I’m for Europole-“

“Shut up!.. Sorry bout him… let’s get you to school.”

Every time you questioned who the man with you was, Chuuya changed the topic

You knew Chuuya was a mafioso, but knowing Adam would make you ask too many questions

When you finally got to school, he was annoyed

He hadn’t planned this far and didn’t know what to do for your safety

Human version of “fuck it, we ball” and goes inside the school

“Yes, I’m a new student. Chuuya… And this is my dad, Adam.”

Gets let it?!? You don’t mind, of course

“What the fuck is trigonometry?”

“You ask like I know…”

“You’re the actual student.”

“You’re the one who chose to be here.”

Adam buts in. “Trigonometry is the study of-“

When you get to science class, it’s your lucky day that you have physics

He is amazed by gravity, seeing how his ability works in a scientific way

Definitely shows off, making the whiteboard marker fly across the room

“So that’s why I can lift heavy stuff? I wonder…”

Also definitely got yelled at cause the teacher thought he threw it

Chuuya definitely tells Adam to shut up at least every other minute

When you get to literature class, hope you aren’t reading a book on the human condition

Or anything with relationships of the family kind

Quickly gets reminded of Verlaine, and remembers why he is there

Holds you hand tight

“It’s not weird, I just… my hands are cold, that’s all” “Most teenagers who hold hands are involved in romantic-“ “Shut up Adam!”

It’s finally your last class and he’s nervous

On one side, he doesn’t have to worry about you surrounded by so many others

On the other side, it’s gonna be more difficult to protect you when he just has you and Adam without the cover of a whole student body

So, he takes you to his apartment

It’s… dull

He makes Adam watch the door, and you to his bedroom

Helps with your homework to try and ease any creeping ideas in your mind that this is all suspicious

Even if he isn’t any help, like at all

Sleepover!

Overall, you’re surviving

No fucking way that he’s losing you

Not you, never you

#chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd fanfic #chuuya x fem!reader #chuuya stormbringer #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #chuuya nakahara

[kissitbttr]

how about mean!cheerleader having her first fight with eddie? i need a little something angsty soooo bad:(

ask and you shall receive baby! this is quite short. hope you don’t mind that<3

-

eddie and mean!cheerleader have their first fight

the anger that burns inside of her still hasn’t died down and she doesn’t want to do anything she’d regret later, but it’s so difficult when eddie is being a downright prick to her. it’s like he has no idea how to control his choice of words. yet, she’s trying so hard to keep her cool because she doesn’t want him to get hurt.

“oh so now you’re not talking to me? you were having fun chewing my goddamn ear off just earlier!” he sarcastically says, looking at her who refuses to do the same.

“yeah, cause you were being a dick” she mutters, furiously flip through her magazine, trying to shake his rude tone off her mind. “you didn’t get what i mean. so why don’t we just call it.”

he laughs humorlessly, running his hands through his hair frustratedly. “what did i not fucking get, y/n? you were overreacting, there was nothing going on between me and rebecca! her nose was this close to bleeding, thanks to you!”

she slams the magazine down, raising up to her feet so she can now look at him dead in the eye,

“that bitch had her hands all over you, twirling your hair and shit, ignoring me as if i wasn’t there. as if i wasn’t even your girlfriend!” she angrily responds, only to hear him scoff

it’s s good thing that there aren’t a lot of people at the bleachers, or else she would be giving them a show for the third time,

“you didn’t even do anything about it! just laughed and enjoyed the attention she gave you. i tried telling you but you brushed me off! and fuck, do you know how hard it was for me to not knock that bitch out?”

“oh? well why didn’t you, huh princess? it’s what you’re good at right?”

the way he says it… god he makes it sound like she’s a terrible person.

he implies that violence is the only thing she knows how to do in terms of solving things. it hurts her. because she knows damn well that’s not true. she doesn’t like hurting people. that’s not who she is entirely

“no, smartass! not at all! because i have actually been trying to fix that. it’s hard but I’m trying! i just- when it comes to the people that i love, i have to do whatever it takes to not lose them. and i love you, so i got scared okay! I’ve told you million times about this already.”

he’s quick to shake his head, scoffing at her. finding it hard to believe that his girlfriend is trying to find a way to justify her actions. “no-just—you do not get to play that card with me. you almost broke her nose, y/n. if it wasn’t for me, she’d be at the nurse’s office by now.”

“oh, what, you’re her knight in shining armor, now?” she tilts her head curiously, arms crossed. “her fucking prince, is that it? maybe i should’ve broken her nose. or her arm. how about that?”

“god you’re unbelievable” he breathes out a tired sigh, putting his hands on his hips. “i had know fucking idea you’d be like this.”

“be like what?” she pushes, challenging him as she steps closer. his eyes are filled with rage, she can tell. and she dares him to say it. “you can’t even say it, can you?”

“no because it’s not worth it anymore.”

“uhm yes it is! she’s the reason why we have this fight in the first place! because you picked her side over mine!”

“i didn’t pick her side, stop putting words on my mouth!”

“you did!” she argues, “if you didn’t, i wouldn’t call out on your shit! she likes you eddie, why can’t you see that? she wants you, she wants my boyfriend! how the fuck are you so damn clueless?!”

“jesus h christ, y/n! you need to drop this insecure shit you have going on! it’s not cute! just because I’m dating you doesn’t mean that other girls can’t talk to me!” he yells, eyes wide in anger because he can no longer hear anymore of her complains, it’s tiring. “no wonder your exes are fed up”

her body soon freezes momentarily. as he draws a few steps away from her, she feels the beat of her heart begins to slow down, as if there’s no air left for her to breathe.

so many things he had said was just plain wrong and she has no idea where to start.

oh, eddie… why did you have to say that?

“w-what?” she feels small as she chokes out, eyes turning glossy, “insecure?”

when eddie looks back at his girl, he immediately realizes what words were spewed from his mouth. to see her trembling and looking like a kicked puppy just makes him want to punch himself in the stomach.

what has he done?

“wait.. n-no baby i didn’t mean that, i was just-“

“you’re the only person who never calls me that” she then breaks into a full sob before walking away from him. she can’t be in the same room with him now. anywhere but here. she needs to clear her mind,

“y/n, no, princess please I’m-i’m sorry.” he begs, running after her. “i didn’t-“

“don’t!” she immediately stops him. “i don’t want to talk nor see you right now. don’t even bother, eddie.” with that she continues to walk off, wiping her tears away with her palms,

his heart chips away piece by piece when her cold tone appears, especially after hearing her call him by the first name. he’s always been eds, puddin or neddy. it was never a first name. and that’s when he knows he’s fucked. he has hurt her. it pains him to watch her cry like that in front of him. it just kills him. especially since he promised that he’s not going to do it, because he doesn’t want to be like all of her former boyfriends. he promised to treat her better.

but he just feels like he has become one of them. hurting her. his girl.

“f-fuck” he has his hands in the back of his head, hanging low with his eyes shut. “munson you stupid. fucking. freak. what the fuck have you done.”

-

pt.2

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson x mean!cheerleader #eddie things

[its-all-stardust]

Head Above Water

Matt Murcock/GN!Reader

3.9k

Summary: A month after Thanos turns half of all life to dust with the snap of his fingers, you find a man sitting on a bench in the rain, alone.

Notes: This is my first fic here, and to be honest, I'm testing the waters a little bit with it lol. I hope to write more fics for Matt and other characters in the future! My ask box is open and feedback is appreciated ❤️

Thunder claps in the distance, and you know the rain is only going to get heavier. Part of you doesn’t mind, despite the already-soaked legs of your jeans. Your small umbrella barely covers your shoulders, the occasional drip hitting you when you let it tilt the wrong way in your daze. You meant to get a new one ages ago, especially when the fabric started lifting away from the metal. But you never got around to it.

And now, you don’t care.

It’s been a month since the world ended. A month since you lost your sister.

A month since half the world—or half the universe, if what the news report you barely listened to is true—turned to dust.

And fuck, do you hope Lizzie turned to dust. Hope that she didn’t go down with the plane as it crashed in the middle of some town, engulfing everything in a fiery blaze.

You hope she turned to dust. You think about her last moments often.

Would she have been terrified if she noticed her limbs fading away before she ceased to exist? Or would she have been confused? Was she awake when it happened, or was she asleep?

Did she cry when the plane started to plummet?

Dust or fire, either way, she’s gone.

The rain feels nice, in a way. A chilling reminder that the world stopped and still stops. The streets are practically empty with so many people gone and the natural dislike of being caught out in a storm.

But it never feels like enough.

The world stopped, but it didn’t end.

Someone walks by on the other side of the street.

A month.

It’s only been a month, and you and everyone else are expected to live as if the worst tragedy in history hadn’t just happened.

You can’t go back to work. You were supposed to. But your days are consumed by grief after losing the only person you loved. How can you go back, pretend that it never happened, that you’re fine?

You’re not fine.

You don’t think you’ll ever be fine.

You don’t have a job anymore.

Your foot catches on something, sending you stumbling and pulling you out of your dark reverie. Rain spills down your back as your umbrella tilts forward. You don’t know what you tripped over, nor do you care very much. You adjust your umbrella and try to take another step forward, but stop when you send a cane clattering down the sidewalk.

The sight of it makes you pause, confused. Your state of mind slows any thoughts that aren’t of Lizzie. It takes a moment to realize you’ve stopped next to a bench. 

A bench with a man sitting on it.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly say. The cane must belong to him. 

You’re still not used to how empty the streets of New York City feel and have grown used to the lack of people running about, no longer needing to carefully avoid hitting others or having someone slam into you with abandon. You haven’t needed to avoid being in someone’s way for what feels like an eternity.

It’s been a month.

Shaking away the cloud of thought, you reach down, pick up the cane, and turn to the man, who hasn’t said a word since you ripped it away from him.

Holding it out, you wait for the man to take it, but he doesn’t move. Then you notice his dark glasses and what type of cane you’re holding.

The man is blind.

“Uh…” you start, stumbling over what to say. “Here’s your cane. Sorry.”

Like a statue coming to life, the man finally moves. Reaching for his cane, you set it in his hand.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, settling back into the bench. 

You should leave. You’ve done your due diligence and given the man back his cane, but your feet don’t want to move.

The man is soaking wet, dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. He had no jacket or umbrella of his own. His hair is plastered to his head, and raindrops collect on the lenses of his glasses briefly before falling. He looks like a mess. You’re not one to judge because you looked much the same over the past month. 

Looking past him, you see the church.

“You uh…need help getting inside? It’s a little wet out here,” you finish awkwardly. You have no idea if he even believes in God enough to want to go inside, if he just came from it, or if this is just the first bench he found. Whichever it is, you don’t like the idea of him sitting out in the rain with not even a jacket to keep the rain off, especially not with a storm coming.

More thunder nearly drowns out the man’s answer: a short, simple “No.”

But still, you stand there in front of him, watching water drip down through his dark hair and land on his cheek.

“Here,” you say suddenly, mind made up. “Take this.”

The man looks confused, the first expression you’ve seen on his face. But he doesn’t say anything, just holds out his free hand, where you place the handle of your umbrella.

“What’s this?” he finally asks.

“An umbrella,” you say and start to turn away.

“Don’t you need it?” the man calls after you.

You pause and turn back. “Not anymore.”

Despite his frown, the man goes quiet and settles the umbrella against his shoulder, the rain now no longer able to reach his face. Water still drips down his hair as you turn to leave, walking a little faster to get back to your apartment before you end up like the man outside the church.

It’s still raining the next day, but it does nothing to stop you from going on your daily depression walk.

You couldn’t stay curled up on the floor of your apartment any longer, so you’ve taken to spending the day wandering the city streets, lost in thought, trying to wear yourself out so you can sleep at night.

You’re berating yourself today, one of the iterations of thoughts you cycle through these days.

How can you walk miles throughout the city for days on end but can’t make yourself go to work? You lost your job, and the landlord—the new landlord, after the old one turned to dust, is bound to catch on that your rent payment is late. You don’t think you can get evicted during a state of emergency, but you wouldn’t bet on it.

The world ended. Your world ended. You shouldn’t be expected to have picked up the pieces and moved on like everyone else.

The world never stopped turning, though. Part of you knows you can’t keep doing this forever—avoiding life and praying everything goes back to normal. It won’t, not with Lizzie dead. But if you don’t, you’re sure you’ll find some way to join your sister in whatever afterlife she ended up in.

Your foot knocks against something, and you stop. You wandered too close to a bench where someone sits, making you walk right into a cane extended into your path.

Not thinking much of it, you’re about to step around it when you recognize the man on the bench. You’re at the church again, and the same man as yesterday sits outside. Without the umbrella you gave him.

You’re afraid he’s been here since yesterday without moving, but you see that the t-shirt and sweats he’s wearing today are black as opposed to the gray he had on when you first saw him.

You can’t help but be a little annoyed that the man appears to have lost your umbrella. But as you stare at him, at the blank expression on his face, and the defeated slump of his shoulders, it reminds you of yourself. If you didn’t despise wearing soaking wet clothes, you’d likely be without an umbrella, too.

You want to help, but you’re not particularly inclined to give him another umbrella for him to lose, not since you just bought this one on the way home yesterday.

So you sigh and, unsure if the man even knows you’re there, sit next to him on his right side, immediately soaking the seat of your pants on the wet bench. Shifting your umbrella to cover both you and the man, you sit back and wait.

Silence surrounds you for long enough to congratulate yourself on buying a larger umbrella. Your right side, and presumably the man’s left, is being hit by the rain, but it’s doing a decent job of covering two people not pressed close together.

“What…are you doing?” the man finally asks, either just noticing your presence or deciding to acknowledge it. His voice cracks, making you wonder when he last spoke and how long he’s been in the rain.

“Waiting for the rain to stop,” you tell him as if it were obvious. You adjust your grip on the handle to rest it against your arm. You could be here for a while and want to be as comfortable as possible.

“...why?”

“You lost my umbrella,” you say, looking at him. “At least, I assume you did since you don’t have it, and I don’t want you to get wet. Well, any wetter than you already are.” You finish awkwardly.

A look of realization comes over the man’s face. He recognizes you now.

“I…forgot it,” he says simply, and you wonder if that’s true. Maybe he wandered out into the city without it on purpose, hoping the rain would either cleanse him or punish him.

You know the feeling well.

Silence descends again. So far, the rain hasn’t shown any signs of stopping, nor has the man seemed uncomfortable with your presence.

Then he shivers. Maybe you’ll bring him a jacket tomorrow if he’s still here. If you find one his size, which you can only guess at.

Next, the man’s hands start fidgeting with his cane, the most movement you’ve seen from him during your brief interactions.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

The man scoffs, a bitter smile on his face. “No.”

His voice shakes, and you watch as he swallows and clenches his jaw. You’re familiar with the reaction. You’ve done it a lot over the past month when you want to avoid crying in front of others.

You look away from his face and down to his hands. He’s clutching his cane in a white-knuckle grip with both hands, and it’s a wonder he doesn’t snap the thing in two.

Something comes over you then, and you don’t know if you should do it or if it’s even a good idea. But you give in to temptation, sitting up to reach over with your right hand and place it on the man’s clenched fists.

“Neither am I,” you say softly, pressure starting to build in the back of your throat.

The man freezes, and you’re afraid you’ve overstepped, crossed a line with this stranger that you had no business crossing.

You’re about to pull away when he shifts, one of his hands turning to grasp yours, clutching it like a lifeline.

Neither of you speaks, both trying to breathe through the wave of emotion welling up inside you.

Connecting like this with someone is…nice. Practically everyone around you lost someone because of the attack, but this is the first time you don’t feel alone in your grief.

You don’t know how long you sit like that, but you’re disappointed when you notice the rain finally stopped. Letting go of the man’s hand, you move your umbrella off to the side and close it.

You’re unsure where to go from here, what the next step is now that you’ve held hands with and found comfort in a stranger.

Glancing over at the man, you see his hand is still open as if waiting for you to take it again. You hesitate briefly before giving him your name.

It’s almost as if he comes alive then, taking a deep breath like it’s his first taste of air. He shifts, turning to face you.

“I’m Matt,” he says.

“Matt,” you repeat, a small smile on your lips. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Matt kept sitting on the bench outside Clinton Church. He’d been doing it since the day everyone died. First Karen and Foggy turned to dust in front of him. Then, when his head cleared enough, he went to the orphanage to look for Maggie.

She was gone, too.

And so he sits outside the church, going back to his apartment when he needs to. But he always returns. Matt doesn’t go inside, doesn’t pray. He’s just numb and doesn’t have anywhere else to go.

Then, one day, you appeared and gave him an umbrella.

And you kept coming back.

A week in, though the two of you barely spoke, Matt asked why you did. You tensed and hesitated long enough that Matt was about to try to take the question back when you quietly admitted, “I like sitting with you.”

He froze, not knowing how to react. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but the thought that you enjoyed his silent company never occurred to him. It was an odd thing for Matt to hear.

The fallout with his friends was only just recovering after his disappearing act. He had just learned to truly let the people who cared about him in. And with everyone suddenly gone, the idea that a stranger wanted to be around Matt was shocking.

Uncomfortable with the feeling welling up in his chest, Matt changed the topic.

“Do you always walk this way?” He’s mostly out of it while losing himself outside the church, but even so, he didn’t remember someone walking by every day at the same time like clockwork.

“I only just started this way,” you explained with a shrug. “Needed to change up my route.”

You went silent, and Matt could feel the melancholy pouring out of you.

He didn’t ask why. He could guess well enough why you’d be sad about changing a familiar walking route or why you never seemed to be going anywhere in particular. Instead, he stayed silent, thinking about how he liked sitting with you, too, and how warmth still radiated on his skin from when you held his hand.

As the days went on, you and Matt slowly started talking more, carefully avoiding mentions of friends or family. You started sitting with him for longer, and Matt began to expect you at 2:14 every day and looked forward to your warmth at his side.

But it’s 2:22, and you’re not here. Matt listens for your heartbeat, the sound of your footsteps on the concrete, but there’s no trace of you. He fidgets with his phone, having it repeat the time as if it’ll go back or make you appear. Ever since that first day, you were never late, and something in his chest—which he refuses to believe is his heart—constricts at the thought that something happened to you.

He wants to believe that you simply changed your route again. That maybe you were tired of him, didn’t want to be around him, and just didn’t know how to tell him. But Matt remembers how quiet you were yesterday. How your silence reminded him not of the unfamiliarity of a stranger but of a sadness barely held in check. Your breath hitched, and you let out a small gasp before cutting your visit short and leaving with a strained smile pulling at the corners of your mouth and a promise to see him tomorrow.

But you’re not here.

Matt’s conflicted. Should he try to find you? Does he have any right to? What would you think of him if he did? Should he stay and wait, see if you show up late? Wait until tomorrow before truly worrying?

Something is wrong.

The thought won’t leave him. What started as a scratch has turned into claws digging into his gut, trying to pull him forward toward—

Where would he even look for you?

Matt stops a few feet away from the bench. He hadn’t realized he had even started moving.

Where would he look for you? He doesn’t know where you live or the route you take. Finding you would be nearly impossible.

Except he hears the faintest trace of your voice. He’s familiar with the cadence, matching perfectly with the one in his memory.

Matt follows without a thought, crossing into the street and forcing someone to slam on their breaks to avoid hitting him with their car. He tries not to run, instead staying at a fast-paced walk. You don’t sound like you’re hurt. In fact, you’re…humming?

Matt forces himself to stop. The tune sounds familiar, but in his panic, he can’t quite place it before you stop.

Maybe…maybe you are fine, and you just… didn’t want to see him anymore, unable to find the same comfort in him that he found in you. His stomach sours at the thought, his face twisted at the small pain in his chest.

And then he hears something else.

“I miss you.”

Your voice is so quiet, and Matt is so far away he almost misses it. The pain in his chest eases, but now he’s less sure about what to do.

You’re clearly unharmed, but Matt remembers what you said to each other that second day.

Neither of you are okay.

And you wouldn’t have kept coming back for days if you hadn’t found some sort of stability, some familiarity in him.

Matt keeps walking. You’ve stopped talking, but he has a decent idea where you are. He doesn’t think you moved, either. If you do, Matt’s sure he’ll be able to follow you easily, especially now that he’s caught your heartbeat.

Within minutes, he finds you sitting on some other bench, hunched forward, holding something in your hands. There’s saline in the air around you. You’ve been crying. There aren’t any tears on your cheeks now, but he can tell your eyelids are swollen from earlier.

Matt stands there, taking you in, unsure if he should approach or walk by and hope you’ll say something. He licks his lips and starts forward, decided. When he gets close enough to the bench, Matt taps the end with his cane before sliding it along the ground to hit your foot.

Startled, you jerk your feet back as he says, “Sorry, is this seat taken?”

“Matt?” you ask, confused when you see him standing next to you. “You…left your bench.”

“I…did.” He was in such a rush to find you that he hadn’t considered that you would find it strange for him to be somewhere else.

“Why?”

Matt flounders for a moment, unable to tell you the truth, before repeating something you said to him. “I needed to change my bench.”

You nod in understanding, believing he could no longer sit somewhere that held so many memories—the reason you had to change your route.

You slide down the bench. “Sit.”

The usual silence falls between you as Matt takes the spot next to you, but he isn’t comfortable in it this time. You’re staring at the thing in your hands and chewing your lip. Matt shifts in his seat, unable to maintain his usual stillness. He doesn’t know where to go from here. He didn’t come up with a plan.

“Do you like this place?” you ask suddenly.

“The…city?” Now it’s Matt’s turn to be confused.

You laugh lightly. “The bakery.” You tilt your head back to gesture. “Behind us,” you say when you remember he can’t see.

Matt has been so focused on you that he blocked everything else out. Now, as he takes in the space around him, the scent of all sorts of baked goods wafting over him from the building only feet away. He doesn’t even need his heightened sense for it. It’s a bit of a wonder, he thinks, that it’s still open.

“I’ve never actually been here,” he admits. “Have you?” As soon as he says it, he realizes that the thing in your hands is a cupcake and that you’ve just come from the bakery yourself.

“Yeah,” you say softly, focusing intently on the desert. “It’s my sister’s favorite place. Was her favorite.”

With those words, you start crying. For the first time, you cross the unspoken line between you to not talk about whoever you lost. You both avoided the topic not to create a barrier or to keep from knowing too much about each other but because it was too hard. Your tears are evidence. But even still, you told him.

Matt is shocked but won’t stop you if you are ready to take that step.

“What’s her name?” he asks gently, careful not to pry too deeply. When your breath hitches, he reaches out, fingers brushing your forearm.

“Elizabeth. Lizzie. She was my best friend.” Raising a hand, you wipe your face. “It’s her birthday.”

Matt lets out a breath, practically feeling your pain. No wonder you’re so upset, why you left yesterday.

“Here,” you say suddenly before Matt can speak. “It’s a cupcake.”

“Isn’t it for her? Shouldn’t you eat it?” he asks, yet reaches for it anyway. You wince as you set the cupcake in his hand.

“I actually hate red velvet. It was always her favorite flavor. Uh…I heard it’s good, though,” you awkwardly assure, making Matt let out a soft chuckle.

“We’ll find out.” Matt starts peeling the wrapper off but doesn’t take a bite. Instead, he sits there, wondering if he should share with you what he lost. If he even can.

But he wants to try.

“When I was a kid,” he starts slowly, finding the words and prying them out from that place in his heart where he locked them away.

“I lost my dad and grew up in the orphanage just behind the church we sit at.”

You stay silent, letting Matt speak, giving him your rapt attention. It seems you’re just as shocked that he’s sharing with you.

“I didn’t really have anyone growing up. And then I met Foggy while I was in college. And Karen a couple of years ago. And then, a few months ago, I…found my mother in that very church. Maggie.” A fond smile finds its way onto Matt’s face. He hasn’t said any of their names in so long. It feels good.

But it quickly falls.

“They’re gone now,” he finishes. He doesn’t need to explain how.

You reach out, taking Matt’s free hand in your own and intertwining your fingers. He feels the warmth radiating from you, driving away the permanent chill in his bones.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing her,” you say.

“I know I won’t stop wishing they were still here.” Matt feels tears starting to well up in his eyes. But his hands are full, and he can’t wipe away the tear that slips down his cheek.

“Do you want to be friends, Matt?” you ask, a spark of hope filling you, making a small smile appear on your face.

The two of you weren’t yet friends, despite how much time you spent together on the bench. You never shared enough, never talked enough for it to happen.

Matt nods and squeezes your hand.

“I’d like that.”

And unbeknownst to the other, you both think that now that you’ve met, you’ll be able to get through the rest of this life together and, perhaps, be happy.

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #x reader

[borathae]

↳ Index [Chapter 23 - Mitte]

• Mitte (German, middle)

Warnings: this is a Tae & Yoongs chapter, they finally talk with each other, it’s beautiful to see, so much mutual respect and healthy conversations, Yoongi also tells him a little bit about vampire history, their friendship is beautiful i wuv them

Wordcount: 8k

a/n: this is one of my fave chapters, i fucking love them

He spent a lot of time down here. The candles have burned down by now, but he doesn’t care. The dark hasn’t bothered him since three millennia.

The floors are wet, as are parts of the walls. The sound of moving water can be heard somewhere. The stench of magic is in the air, it forces his head to pound in a terrible headache. His body is cold as well. The clothes he decided to wear aren’t suited for such rooms. Pants and a button up, both made out of fabric too thin for cold, wet cellars.

He likes heated rooms and being warm, but he is used to the cold, so he doesn’t really mind. He does care for it. He hasn’t done so always, but ever since he feels, he would rather take a warm room over a cold one.

He can’t be picky however, not when so much is at stake.

Light cuts through the darkness then. It aches in his eyes and for just a few seconds, he is blind. He blinks, adjusting to the new situation.

“What are you doing here?” he asks the person holding the oil lamp.

“I could ask you the same question. It has been hours and you are still locked up in this awful room.”

“I can’t leave yet, I have to find out how to stop him.”

“You do, but you also have other priorities.”

“For example?”

“Helping us with the clean-up for example? Or perhaps coming up with what to do next? Or simply making sure ___ is safe?”

“How is she?”

“She is still the same. She is in shock and refuses to speak to anyone.”

“I see. I will check up on her later.”

“It’s too late for that. I helped her fall asleep.”

“Good. At least she won’t be able to think that way.”

“Yes, it’s good. Jungkook is with her for now.”

“Good. He’s perfect for that, he’ll keep her safe if she wakes.”

“I agree.”

Yoongi looks into Taehyung’s eyes for the first time ever since the latter joined him in this wet, cold room.

“Why are you here?” he asks him.

“The others asked me to see how you are doing.”

“Well, you did, now leave.”

Taehyung stays in the doorframe, shaking his head in refusal.

“Tch”, Yoongi lets out defeated and stands up from the wooden chair he had been hunching on for hours. He stretches out his back and turns away from Taehyung in order to disappear deeper into the room.

The dozens and dozens of shelves were a labyrinth for him once, but he spent enough time in here to know his ways by now.

The first three rows are stacked with potions and their ingredients. They are useless to him.

The next five are stacked with books. Of both magical and normal nature. They are useless to him, except for one book, which lies opened on page 639 back on the table.

Yoongi skimmed through row nine and ten already. They were filled with all sorts of magical devices. Some seemed useful, some interesting and some boring, but none was the one thing he was looking for.

“What are actually doing here?”

Yoongi doesn’t startle upon hearing Taehyung’s voice behind him because he heard his steps before that. He looks over his shoulder. Taehyung left the oil lamp by the table. They can still see each other clearly despite that.

“I’m looking for something.”

“And what is it you are looking for?”

“Why do you care?”

Taehyung blinks in confusion.

“Because the last time I checked, we are on the same side.”

“Sure”, Yoongi says sarcastically and with a loud scoff, he turns away from Taehyung.

The latter stays quiet for now, trailing behind Yoongi as he loses himself farther and farther in the labyrinth of shelves.

The eleventh shelf turns out to be useless as well. Yoongi turns, almost colliding with Taehyung from just how close the younger vampire is standing.

Yoongi lifts his head, locking eyes with Taehyung again.

“Out of my way”, he hisses.

“You are angry at me”, Taehyung says, making himself big in order to force Yoongi to have the conversation.

“Angry is an understatement.”

“Angry, mad, furious. However you may call it. You are upset with me.”

“I’m disappointed.”

Taehyung knits his brows. He clearly hadn’t expected that.

“Now get the fuck out of my way before I decide to throw you all the way back there”, he says, nodding his head into the direction of the far away hallway.

Taehyung sneaks a glance at it over his shoulder then turns back to Yoongi.

“You are disappointed in me?” he asks.

“Tzt”, Yoongi lets out and pushes Taehyung to the side.

He stomps to the hallway in big steps. Taehyung follows him hurriedly.

“Talk to me”, he tries.

“Just piss off”, Yoongi answers him, taking on the next shelf.

“Hyung, I want to talk with you.”

“Don’t call me that”, Yoongi whips around, “I’m not your family, so shove it.”

Taehyung tries to cover up the hurt in his eyes, but fails.

“Now leave me the fuck alone before I actually hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me”, the words weren’t filled with provocation but rather with childish hopefulness.

“Yes, Taehyung. Yes, I would hurt you. Oh I would love to hurt you. If it wasn’t for ___, I already would have. Hell, you’d be dead already.”

“But why?”

“Why?” Yoongi’s nostrils flared as he growled the word, “now you’re just fucking with me. You really wanna push me?”

“No. No, I really wasn’t”, Taehyung insists with widened eyes, “I, I genuinely want you to tell me.”

“You-”, Yoongi hisses and grabs Taehyung by his chin.

Taehyung squeezes his eyes closed.

“I want to fix this!” he blurts out in his attempt to save his face from getting bashed in by Yoongi’s lifted fist.

Yoongi halts.

“___ is traumatised and, and she needs us both.”

Yoongi lowers his fist.

“And that means that we need to stick together.”

Yoongi lets go of Taehyung’s chin. The latter opens his eyes.

“I know that you are upset with me, but please Yoongi let’s try to fix this for ___’s sake.”

Yoongi listens with a tense jaw.

“She doesn’t need another burden on her shoulders in the form of us constantly wanting to kill each other. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Yoongi grinds his teeth, studying Taehyung’s face with iciness in his gaze. Taehyung falters in his confidence now that he is victim to Yoongi’s punishing look. Soon he touches his own hair, playing with it to soothe himself.

“I agree”, Yoongi says coldly.

“You do?” Taehyung almost gasped the question for Yoongi’ compliance truly surprised him.

Yoongi nods his head, but his frown stays on his face.

“Wow, hyung those are great news. I truly didn’t expect you to agree.”

Yoongi turns a cold shoulder to Taehyung.

“Don’t call me that”, he says.

“I apologize, force of habit. I won’t call you like that again.”

Yoongi begins hurrying down the small corridor. Taehyung follows him close by, looking at everything Yoongi looked at seconds before.

“So what are you doing here?” he asks him.

“I’m looking for something.”

“Yes? What are you looking for?”

“It shouldn’t concern you.”

“Well, it does. We are on the same side, remember?”

Yoongi sneaks a glance at Taehyung, grinding his teeth.

“I guess”, he murmurs, looking away again.

“So? What are we looking for?”

“We?”

“Yes”, Taehyung flashes Yoongi a sweet smile, “I want to help you.”

Yoongi sighs loudly.

“Fine”, he gives in, “follow me.”

And with that, the two vampires hurry back to the desk in silent steps. They both blink to get used to the change of lighting.

Yoongi hovers himself above the book, which is opened on page 637 because Taehyung flipped through it before deciding to join Yoongi. The latter flips it back to page 639 and presses his finger into the page.

“This”, he says, “this is what I’m looking for.”

“I see. May I read?”

“If you can read this language.”

“Oh, you underestimate me. Of course I can read it”, Taehyung says and sits down on the chair. He begins reading.

Yoongi disappears in the meantime, returning to the shelf in search for what he is looking for.

He doesn’t find it and continues to the next shelf.

Taehyung returns when he has looked through a quarter of the stuff.

“The Unbreaking Shackles. Why are you looking for such a terrible weapon?” he asks him.

“Because ___ destroyed the one we wanted to use.”

“Yes, because we would all be dead otherwise.”

Yoongi glance at Taehyung angrily.

“I wasn’t blaming her, so stuff that accusatory tone of yours up your pompous ass.”

“Yoongi”, Taehyung sounds disappointed, “you promised me that we would get along.”

“I never said that. I promised you that I wouldn’t fight with you in front of her anymore. I never promised you friendship.”

“Well, that is terrible. I thought you wanted to get along even when she isn’t here.”

“I could never get along with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are a terrible person.”

“Hey, now are you being unreasonable.”

“You drank her blood”, Yoongi growls, turning to Taehyung and stepping so close their breaths intermingle, “this is the literal definition of being a scumbag.”

“I don’t want to harm her.”

“And yet you still do.”

“You are twisting my intentions.”

“Am I? Now tell me, what’s so good about drinking the blood of the woman you swore to love and keep safe?”

“Because I love her.”

Yoongi scoffs, “no, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do!” Taehyung insists loudly, furrowing his brows, “stop questioning my feelings for her. I love her.”

“Let’s say you do. Why do you think it okay to drink her blood?”

“Because it makes me feel closer to her.”

“You’re sick”, Yoongi hisses and turns his back to Taehyung.

“I mean it”, Taehyung insists, “I was so careful when I bit her. I made sure she was comfortable and never in pain. And she enjoyed it.”

“Don’t say that”, Yoongi hisses, grinding his teeth at the image of how you enjoyed getting drained. It infuriates him too much.

“I am honest. She was never in pain and afterwards I helped her heal with just a few drops of my blood.”

“I told you not to say that!” Yoongi screams so loudly that the entire room shakes in his echo.

Taehyung closes his mouth, looking at Yoongi with fearful eyes.

“First you play with her life by draining her and then you play with her freedom by feeding her our cursed blood. How dare you? Do you have no respect for her?”

“I respect her, I really do”, Taehyung insists honestly.

“And yet you-”, Yoongi swallows what he wanted to say, “I hate you so much, you asshole. You are such a reckless child. Fuck, I should kill you.”

“I’m sorry”, Taehyung says, “I truly am sorry. I didn’t think that blood sharing carries so many negative connotations for you.”

Yoongi takes a step back. The apology reeks of honesty and it irritates him because he didn’t expect Taehyung to be honest.

“But I truly meant no harm when I fed from her. My intentions were of a good heart, one that loves her dearly and that craved the intimacy only blood sharing can offer.”

“That’s just a lame excuse. You can be intimate with someone without participating in this terrible thing.”

“Have you ever tried it?”

“I did. It’s disgusting.”

“Well, maybe you should try it with-”

“Don’t finish this sentence”, Yoongi growls, “I would never put her through that.”

“Maybe just once?”

“No”, Yoongi flashes his ruby eyes, “tread carefully now, Kim Taehyung.”

“Okay, I’m sorry”, Taehyung gives in, “I won’t talk about it anymore. I just”, he exhales through his nose loudly, “I just hope that you can find it in yourself to stop seeing me as a villain. I love ___ dearly and I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Then stop drinking her blood.”

Taehyung keeps quiet.

“Tzt. As I thought. The weapon’s not here, let’s go to the next shelf.”

Yoongi brushes past Taehyung and leaves. His steps are slow, almost as if he was dragging weight behind himself.

“___ told me that she wants to stop for a while. Did you force her to it?”

“Force her?” Yoongi’s voice trembles in anger, “I would never force her to do anything. How dare you.”

“But it must be because of you.”

“Yes, because she knows that it upsets me. And because other than you, she actually respects other people’s feelings.”

“I respect them as well.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do”, Taehyung insists.

“Tell yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night.”

Yoongi abandons Taehyung on the main hallway, but the younger vampire doesn’t stay on there for long. Very soon and he is by Yoongi’s side, helping him look whilst trying to keep the conversation going.

“I respect them. That is why I want you to tell me why you are so upset and why you are disappointed in me, so I can understand you better.”

“I told you. You are a scumbag.”

“No, that is not it. I know your feelings for me changed. Back when we pretended to be a frat house we liked each other. Remember?”

“I think you only imagined that. I never liked you.”

“You are lying. The music nights we shared. When we thought of melodies together and then played them. You can’t tell me that those nights were nothing but pretend.”

“You are not that person anymore. Neither am I.”

“Indeed. Now we are both feeling and we are in love with the same woman, which means we have to work even harder to fix us.”

Taehyung grabs Yoongi by his shoulders and turns him. Yoongi lets him, making eye contact the instant they are facing each other.

“We can’t stay so broken. Eternity is too long to spend it with fighting, especially when it hurts ___.”

“Oh? Now you want to make it about hurting her? Start with thinking about what you did before pointing fingers at me.”

“Yoongi, I told you”, Taehyung sounds exhausted, “I had no evil intentions behind sharing blood with her. I just wanted to be closer to her. Why can’t you see it? I just wanted intimacy.”

“Because it’s not intimate or good or romantic. It’s awful and should be forbidden.”

“Why?”

“Because it is”, Yoongi insists, “aren’t we hurting enough people? Why do we have to hurt the people close to us? The people we love and, and promised to protect?”

Taehyung takes a deep breath through his nose and exhales it the same way. He relaxes his shoulders, pulling his hands away from Yoongi’s arm.

“I see”, he says, “have you hurt someone during blood sharing?”

“It shouldn’t concern you.”

“Well, it does if it helps me understand you better.”

Yoongi stays silent and leaves. He is looking at the contents of the shelf with such precision that Taehyung knows he is acting busy to avoid talking.

“I’m sorry that you did. I hurt someone too, a long time ago. Her name was Jackie and I bit too deeply by accident. She cried so much and told me that I was a monster. She wanted it initially, but never wanted to see me again afterwards. Till this day I feel terrible for what I did to her.”

“That should be proof enough for why you shouldn’t do this with ___. What if Jackie was ___? What if you bit her too deeply?”

“Because I was careful. Oh, Yoongi I am telling you, the moment my fangs touched her skin, I concentrated on nothing other than her comfort. I don’t go deep, just enough to get droplets of her blood. I am actively making sure to never repeat what I did to Jackie. I never went too far, you have to believ-”

“You never went too far?” Yoongi has Taehyung pressed against the shelf with his fingers around his throat and his face morphed into demonic anger, “you almost killed her the last time, you fuck.”

“I, I can’t breathe”, Taehyung chokes out, hitting Yoongi’s hand.

“I don’t fucking care. I don’t care about anything you fuck feel”, Yoongi spits, “you and your empty words. You speak of tenderness and love when your actions show the opposite.”

“I want to change, I urgh-”, Taehyung gags and writhes, “hyun- plea-”

“I want to kill you”, Yoongi growls, “you ruin everything.”

“Ple-” 

“I love her. I love her so very much that I wanna move mountains for her and because of you I will lose her”, the corners of Yoongi’s mouth grow, showing off his true teeth, “you’re gonna kill her, but not when I can prevent it. Hear me, Kim Taehyung? I’m gonna rip you to fucking shreds”, he says and runs his long tongue over his sharp teeth, “you think you know how Rippers kill? Fucker, I am the monster we are based on and I’m happy to show you why that is. Give you a taste of your own fucked up medicine and make you choke on your own blood before I rip your fucking head off with my teeth.”

Yoongi draws closer. Taehyung whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Please don’t kill me. I don’t want to die.”

“And neither does ___ and yet you get off on ending her life.”

“I went too far!” Taehyung chokes out, “I lost control. Please Yoongi, I admit my fault. I truly lost control.”

Yoongi growls, pressing down harder on his neck. He unhinges his jaw, opening it so he can bury his fangs in Taehyung’s throat.

“And I’m sorry!” Taehyung squeaks, writhing in fear.

Yoongi's fingers loosen their grip. His once black eyes return to ruby. His mouth shifts back to human size.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry to ___ and I’m sorry to you. You are right. I was blinded by my blood lust and lost control. And I’m sorry.”

Yoongi’s fingers slip from his throat, now resting on Taehyung’s chest. 

“Please believe me. I don’t want to kill her and, and I don’t want to take her from you.”

Taehyung places his hand over Yoongi’s.

“You make her happy in ways I fail to do and in return I have never seen you so…alive before. Why should I ruin something so wonderful? So honest and real? Please believe me when I say that I want to change.”

Yoongi looks to the side.

“I want to change for ___ and I want to change for us. You are my friend, even if we fight. And I hurt you. I admit my faults and I’m sorry. For hurting you and for hurting ___.”

Yoongi takes a step back. 

“Fuck”, he presses out, “fuck you for actually meaning it.”

“Because I do. I really, really do. I don’t want to lose her and I also don’t want to lose you and the others. So I am here begging you for one more chance.”

“And if I give you one? How long will it take before you put her in danger again?”

Taehyung shakes his head, “I won’t put her in danger anymore, I promise. I will only give her my blood when she asks me for it or if she is hurt. I promise you.”

“Sweet talk it all you want, you won’t change my mind about the blood sharing.”

“I have realised that much by now and I don’t intent to change it. I guess this is a topic we won’t agree on. But I am trying to change your mind about how you see me.”

“Just help me look for that cursed weapon instead.”

“I am. I haven’t found it yet.”

“Neither have I.”

“Are you certain that it is in here?”

“It must be. That’s where Meredith keeps all her trinkets.”

“Have you asked her already?”

“No. The witches still aren’t back.”

“I see. Then we will find it without them. I am sure of it”, Taehyung says and reaches out to nudge Yoongi’s arm, “we’ll find it together, hyung.”

“Stop calling me like that.”

“I’m sorry. I am just so used to calling you that name, that it comes natural to me.”

“Tch.”

They end up leaving the corridor and walking to the next one. It is the second to last shelf.

“Oh dear”, Taehyung says, “this is a lot of stuff.”

“Yes. It’ll take a while. You start at the beginning, I’ll start at the end.”

“Understood. Let’s meet in the middle.”

“Mhm.”

Yoongi disappears.

Taehyung looks at the small form of Yoongi at the end of the corridor. He huffs out air in defeat. Well, this is going to be a lot of work. Not only finding the weapon, but also getting Yoongi to open back up to him. He knows that it is possible. He knows that out of his former roommates, Yoongi was always the fondest of him. He knows that there was a time where he could call him his family and Yoongi wouldn’t mind. And because he possesses such knowledge, he knows that he can get Yoongi to like him again. 

It will just be a long way to get there. A long, long way to meet in the middle. Taehyung almost has to laugh at just how perfectly the situation fits. Meeting in the middle. Yes, let’s do that for now, he thinks and begins looking through Meredith’s trinkets.

He finds a cube which can suck all air out of a room, but it isn’t what he is looking for. He also finds a very interesting looking coin. It has the word “eternal blindness” written on its back. Taehyung discards it quickly and moves on to the next section.

He finds a book. It is as light as feather and carries the words “Magnus Vasistas” on its cover. He doesn’t dare to open the book, placing it back on the shelf.

Then he sneaks a glance at Yoongi. He has already come a little closer. His brows are furrowed in concentration.

Taehyung turns his head away and begins sorting through the stuff again.

There is a goblet which catches his attention. It is made of metal as black as obsidian and with purple crystals embedded on its rim. He twists and turns it a few times then looks inside. It is empty safe for the dust covering the surface.

“This is not right”, he murmurs and places it back on the shelf.

His eyes lock on a stone next. It sits right in his palm. It feels cold on his skin. Taehyung widens his eyes. The coldness is disappearing. It becomes warmer and warmer and warmer and warmer and…

“Ah”, he gasps, dropping the stone.

Yoongi turns his head upon hearing the loud sound of it landing on the ground.

“It burned me”, Taehyung says, showing Yoongi his scorched palm, “ah it hurts terribly.”

“It’s your own fault for touching it.”

“It truly hurts”, Taehyung whines, staring at his palm, “why is it not healing?”

Yoongi sighs in defeat and within a second he is by Taehyung’s side. He wraps his fingers around Taehyung’s wrist and pulls his hand closer.

“What did you touch?” he asks, inspecting the deep wound.

“This stone”, Taehyung says, pointing at the inconspicuous looking stone sitting on the ground, “it felt cold at first but then it heated up and burned me.”

“Tzt”, Yoongi clicks his tongue is distaste, “that’s why you shouldn’t touch anything in here. This stone is dangerous. She probably laced it with eternal scorching.”

“What? Eternal scorching? Ah”, Taehyung gasps before he has to hiss in discomfort, “ah it hurts.”

“I know. Idiot. You just cursed your own hand.”

“Please make it stop, it hurts unbearably.”

“Serves you right”, Yoongi murmurs, but still tugs Taehyung with him, “follow me, I know a cure.”

He drags Taehyung all the way back to the first shelf and stops right when they are at the middle. He is still holding Taehyung wrist whilst the latter is trying not to close his fingers. His palm burns so much that he can barely handle it. His wound grows exponentially.

“That’s it”, Yoongi says and reaches for an emerald green bottle. He opens the cork with his teeth, spitting it on the ground. Then he turns to Taehyung and tugs his hand closer, “hold still.”

And without warning he pours the green liquid all over his hand.

“Ah!” Taehyung exclaims, trying to wiggle away, “what is this? This feels terrible.”

“Quit whining. It’s the antidote. Look, it’s dissolving the curse.”

The scorch on Taehyung’s hand is sizzling until it stops and magically becomes smaller and smaller.

“It healed”, Taehyung gasps.

“Yes, that’s what it’s supposed to do”, Yoongi says dryly and leaves him by the potion shelf.

Taehyung takes a quick glance at the bottles. He can’t read the letters they display.

“Yoongi”, he calls out and turns to hurry to the older vampire.

He finds him hunched over the book, reading page 639 once again.

“How come you know so much about all of this?”

“I lived long enough”, he answers him dryly.

“No, there must be more behind your knowledge.”

“Mhm”, Yoongi acknowledges him, but stays silent otherwise. He is too focused on memorising the words on the paper.

Taehyung studies his face then the book until he lands on his face again.

“Now this weapon”, he begins, “how come you knew of its existence?”

“I just do.”

“I would like to argue that I posses a great knowledge of witchcraft and yet I never heard of it. Let alone heard about curses of eternal scorching and emerald antidotes. How do you know so much?”

Yoongi lifts his eyes from the book, locking them with Taehyung. When he sees the determination in his gaze, he gives up with a loud sigh.

“Because most of those things I helped create three thousand years ago.”

“What?” Taehyung gasps, widening his eyes, “you helped?”

Yoongi nods his head.

“I was a warlock before I became a vampire. A pretty impressive warlock actually. I helped write most of those spells in this book”, he says, touching the book.

“Now that is”, Taehyung laughs in disbelief, “those are the most mindboggling news I have ever heard. You possessed magic as a human?”

Yoongi nods his head.

“This is wonderful. Why did you never tell me?”

“Why should I have?” Yoongi asks, scrunching his nose up in disgust, “it’s not like it’s any of your business.”

“Well, I think that it is. You were a warlock once, this is wonderful. How come you became a vampire?”

“It shouldn’t concern you.”

“Well, I want to know. How did all of this start? How did we start? Was it one of your spells?”

“No.”

“Well, what was it then?”

“Why are you so nosy?”

Taehyung huffs out air, sending Yoongi a little pout.

“Fine”, Yoongi says with annoyance in his voice, “I was still a warlock in apprenticeship. We all were, my friends and I. And one night we stole one of our master’s spells and used it. It was my idea. Our master told us that we weren’t ready for it yet, but I wouldn’t listen because I was a proud asshole, who wanted to prove him wrong. So we stole it and tried it out. Thirty people died, a couple hundred got injured and our village lost half of their crops.”

“Oh that is terrible. Was it the spell which started vampirism?”

“No. It wasn’t, it was the spell of Eternal Scorching. It is supposed to be used only on little objects. We tried to curse a rock with it, but we lost control and it spread over our lands and burned the people from the inside out.”

“Oh.”

“Our teacher stopped the spell before it could spread any further and captured all of us with magic. He created vampirism as our punishment. He cursed all of us to eternal life so we will never be freed of the terrible guilt of what we had done.”

“Well that is…not what I had expected. So our nature is truly a curse?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Taehyung asks and chuckles in confusion.

“For starting all of this.”

“What?” Taehyung asks, “but it’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is. If I wasn’t such a childish idiot back then, if I only had listened and not overestimated my own abilities, maybe then this awful curse would have never spread over the lands.”

“There is nothing to forgive, I don’t blame you.”

“Well, you should. I know it’s my fault. The sorcerer let me know by making me the only goddamn Gluttonous Ripper and I know how my lineage turned out. I know that my creations are fucking cursed to a sad life and I know that it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. Haven’t you spent most of your life teaching your lineage ways they could control their urges?”

“Yes? What about it?”

“So you helped them. They may have been cursed to a sad life, but you broke that curse by giving them back their control. So stop wallowing in self-pity when you did so much to prove the sorcerer wrong.”

Yoongi listens intently, staring at Taehyung with slightly widened eyes.

“You’re not that selfish person anymore. Hell, you are sometimes so self-sacrificing and, and righteous that it infuriates me.”

Yoongi scoffs and shows the smallest of smiles.

“Thanks, I guess”, he murmurs, looking back into the book.

Taehyung smiles as well. Yoongi is warming up to him again. He knows that he is. Taehyung steps closer until their arms were touching. Yoongi doesn’t put distance between their bodies.

“So that book”, Taehyung begins, “you created it while you were still a warlock?”

“Yes, my friends and I did, but the sorcerer must have finished it.”

“How are you so certain that he did?”

“Because of this.”

Yoongi flips the book on its last page. The handwriting is almost unreadable as if the mind which produced it was clinging to its last string of sanity.

“I think the sorcerer went insane in guilt for what he did to us”, Yoongi says.

“You think so?”

Yoongi nods his head, “I don’t think that his intentions were to create immortal monsters which hunt innocent humans and kill them so violently. I think that perhaps the curse of vampirism was too much for him as well and it laced itself in our bodies in a way which he couldn’t control.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. I can still remember how he talked about dark magic and that the price for our punishment is the blood of an innocent. He sacrificed a lamb back then, but I believe that the darkness of the magic laced itself with the blood and as it entered our bodies it created the dark hunger for blood. I think the sorcerer wasn’t aware of just how unpredictable the dark magic he used was and I really think that he only wanted to curse us with immortality, but that the dark magic took over and turned us into how we function.”

“Do you think that this is also the reason why we dry out if we aren’t fed blood? Because the dark magic needs to feed on blood and if we don’t consume blood, the curse resorts to feasting on our own blood until we are drained?”

Yoongi sneaks a glance at Taehyung.

“I didn’t think that yet, but I think you’re right. It would make sense.”

Taehyung smiles proudly.

Yoongi looks at his smile for just a second before he averts his gaze back into the book.

Taehyung moves closer to get a better look at the page. He drapes his arm across Yoongi’s back. It forces the older vampire to tense up and sneak a confused look at Taehyung. He doesn’t move away however.

“What does this say? I can’t read it”, Taehyung asks.

“I think this is the solution to all of our problems”, Yoongi says.

“How come?”

“As I said before, I think the sorcerer spent his life trying to fix what he had done. I think that this obsession turned him mad in the end, but this right here”, Yoongi dances his fingers over the page, “this right here is the last proof of his genius.”

“It’s barely even distinguishable.”

“It’s a spell for reversing the curse of vampirism.”

“What?” Taehyung gasps, “a spell to reverse vampirism?”

Yoongi nods his head.

“It says right here. Lace it on to a blade. Yes, yes. Lace a blade. Pierce a heart with it. The heart of my demons. The demons. Oh what have I done? It will redeem my deeds. This will redeem my deeds. Lace a blade and pierce a heart.”

“You can read those scribbles?”

“I had to decipher his writing on a board back in school”, Yoongi says, making Taehyung laugh.

Yoongi allows a small smile to hush over his lips.

“I see. Well, then we can be glad that you have so much experience”, Taehyung says, rubbing his hand up and down Yoongi’s lower back.

Yoongi moves away with an arch of his back. He looks just slightly flustered. Taehyung ignores it, sitting down on the edge of the desk instead.

“So why do we need the Unbreakable Shackles?”

“I want to capture Namjoon with them and then use the blade on him.”

“What?”

Yoongi nods his head.

“You want to steal Namjoon of his vampirism?”

“Yes.”

“That is truly your plan?”

“Yes. Is it that unbelievable?”

“Yes, it is. What about killing him? Wasn’t this always our goal?”

“No. We can’t be killed. The only way has always been to weaken him and then keep him in a cell for all eternity.”

“This is”, Taehyung pauses for he finds no words to describe the utter surprise he is feeling, “how are you so certain that the spell will work?”

“I’m not, but trying never hurt anybody.”

“Until it does. What if it doesn’t work and Namjoon stays a vampire?”

“Then we will keep him in a cell for all eternity.”

“And if it works?”

Yoongi falters. Taehyung watches as fearful heartbreak glimmers in his eyes for a mere second.

“We’ll see when we get there”, Yoongi answers him.

“I see”, Taehyung averts his eyes to the book, “to know that such a spell exists”, he murmurs, dancing his fingers over the page, “this is…”

“Our hope.” “Terrible.”

The two vampires say at the same time, meeting each other’s eyes in a surprised look.

“What? Our hope?” Taehyung asks Yoongi.

Yoongi stays silent, tensing his jaw.

“Yoongi”, Taehyung jumps down from the table, stepping closer to Yoongi, “our hope? Why are you saying this?”

“Well, why do you think it’s terrible?” Yoongi hisses, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Because it’s terrible. If this spell falls into the wrong hands they can use it to drain whichever vampire is dumb enough to run into their blade. We could lose everything.”

“So? You’d still be human.”

“Yes. And mortal and weak and without the ability to heal or to never get sick and in the end you will die.”

Yoongi scoffs, looking to the side. Taehyung studies the features of his friend with worry in his eyes.

“What are you planning to do with this spell after we used it on Namjoon and it deemed successful?” Taehyung asks him quietly, dreading the answer.

“Nothing”, Yoongi dismisses him.

“Are you planning to use it on yourself?”

Yoongi gives him a quick glance.

“Let’s continue looking for the shackles, they must be here somewhere”, he dodges his question, stomping off in quick steps.

Taehyung runs after him, grabbing him by his elbow.

“Hyung, talk to me. Are you truly considering using it on yourself?”

“And if I do? What about it?” Yoongi hisses, ripping himself free from Taehyung’s hold.

Taehyung reaches for him instantly, holding his wrist.

“You can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’d lose everything.”

“Yeah and gain much more.”

Taehyung laughs in disbelief.

“No”, he says, circling Yoongi until the smaller vampire can do nothing more than stop and look up at him, “do you hear yourself talk?”

“It’s my decision, isn’t it?”

“No, no it’s not. Not anymore.”

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re not alone in this world anymore. You can’t be so bloody selfish.”

“Selfish? Do you even know how awful it is to know that no matter what you try, you can never die?” Yoongi hisses.

“Yes, yes I do.”

“No you don’t. You just have to rip your own heart out or run into a fire. You have the option to ram a stake through your heart and rip your own head off. Me? When I try any of those things? I’ll wake up again and continue to fucking live. You’ll never know how it is to actually be immortal because while you may not die through most deaths, in the end you still have options.”

Yoongi pushes Taehyung softly.

“You fucker can still end it whenever you want, but I can’t.”

Taehyung reaches for Yoongi, holding his wrists with utmost care.

“I understand what you mean, but please don’t use it on yourself.”

“Why not?” Yoongi asks, fighting Taehyung’s hold.

“Because you’d become mortal.”

“So? At least I could finally die.”

“Do you hear yourself talk?” Taehyung presses out, eyes filling with tears, “you selfish cunt, don’t you have enough reasons to want to stay alive? Isn’t ___ enough?”

Yoongi stops fighting, staring at him with widened eyes.

“Isn’t she enough to want to live? To want to stay immortal?” Taehyung’s voice is trembling, tears roll down his cheek, “how dare you do that to her. How dare you make the decision of how long she wants to be by your side for her.”

“You don’t-”

“Don’t tell me that I don’t understand. I understand a lot”, Taehyung interrupts him, “back when I was captured and you came to talk to me, you told me that I shouldn’t give up on life because ___ hasn’t given up on me yet”, Taehyung shakes Yoongi’s hands as if he wanted to shake him awake from his insanity, “you told me that it is worth wanting to live for her”, his voice is shuddering in emotion, “so goddamn, believe your own words and live.”

“If the spell is successful I can still live with her.”

“No”, Taehyung sobs softly, “please, don’t give up your immortality, not yet.”

He falls around Yoongi’s neck.

“What the hell are you doing?” Yoongi grunts, trying and failing to escape the hug.

“You can’t think like that. Not yet. You can’t become mortal.”

“Why not?” Yoongi pushes him away, “why can’t I become mortal? What if the day comes when ___ dies? Where she is old and grey and her heart gives up? What then? You expect me to continue living after I had to watch her die?”

“No.”

“Then let me become mortal and let me fucking die.”

“No, I can’t do this”, he intertwines his fingers with Yoongi, “you know ___, you know that there will come a day where she wants to become just like us. And, and when that day comes you have to be immortal with us. It would kill ___ if she knew that you wouldn’t be with her for all eternity.”

“She shouldn’t give up her mortality.”

“Well, if that is what she wants then we have to let her. She’ll drink my blood, become a Normal so she won’t be cursed and then you and I can make sure she learns how to drink blood without killing.”

“You’re sick for even thinking that.”

“I’m not sick. Don’t you want to be with her for all eternity?”

“Of course I do. That’s all I’m thinking about.”

Taehyung smiles.

“See? Then concentrate on that thought instead of wanting to die.”

Yoongi inhales deeply.

“I just want to know that I have an option”, he confesses quietly, “even if she becomes a vampire, she can still be killed. I could still lose her. Fuck, I just want to know that I am also able to die.”

“Okay”, Taehyung says, “I understand. That is why we will test it on Namjoon. If it works and he becomes mortal, then you will know that shall the day come where you lose everything and death seems sweet, you can end it. But please Yoongi”, Taehyung squeezes Yoongi’s hands, “please don’t think about it for as long as you have ___ and you are happy.”

Yoongi furrows his brows.

“You deserve to be happy. Truly happy, without thinking about wanting to die. And if you don’t believe me, take it from ___. I know that she wants you to enjoy your life. So goddamn, enjoy it for her if you can’t do it for yourself. And you’ll see, one day you will realise that you have long stopped enjoying it for her sake and that you like it because you genuinely enjoy living.”

Yoongi is deeply moved by Taehyung’s words. He is also deeply moved by the grief Taehyung showed when he talked about dying. He never even thought that Taehyung cared enough about him to find sadness in his death. Yoongi is deeply moved by how much he seems to care. But he can’t show it, because it embarrasses him.

He pulls his hands away.

“You’re a dreamer”, he murmurs, turning around to flee.

Taehyung follows him.

“Perhaps I am, but I genuinely believe that you have many bright days ahead of you.”

“Mhm”, Yoongi looks at the shelf with shy eyes, “let’s just look for the shackles.”

“Yes, we’ll look for them. And I hope you will think about what I said.”

“I won’t use it. At least not yet”, Yoongi whispers.

“Oh Yoongi”, Taehyung falls around his neck again, “this is great news.”

The latter wiggles out of the hug.

“Why do you keep hugging me?” he hisses with burning cheeks.

“Because I’m happy that you won’t give up yet.”

“So? Stop hugging me.”

Taehyung giggles and nudges Yoongi’s arm, “don’t lie, you like it.”

“No, I don’t. It’s weird.”

Taehyung grins, flustering Yoongi even more.

“Whatever”, he dismisses him, disappearing in the narrow corridor.

“I like this, Yoongi”, Taehyung follows him, “I feel like we made a lot of progress.”

“We made zero progress, except that you burned your hand.”

“I’m not talking about our search, but us.”

Yoongi halts and looks over his shoulder.

“I’m glad we made progress.”

“I’m still mad at you for drinking her blood.”

“I know, that is why I decided that I will stop it for a while.”

Yoongi scoffs, cocking his right eyebrow up in surprise.

“I can’t promise you that it will last forever because I truly love the intimacy of it, but for a while I won’t do it”, Taehyung says, making Yoongi turn.

“Why not forever?” he asks.

“Because it makes me happy. Yoongi, you should have been with us when it was still a thing between her and me. She didn’t feel a thing and was incredibly happy afterwards. We shared comfort that way.”

“Tch.”

“But you are right. It long stopped being what it was initially. I became greedy. When we started sharing our blood I only took a little, but ever since a few weeks, I took more than I should have. And I wanted to let Jimin feed from her as well, which I never should have allowed. I admit my fault.”

Yoongi nods his head.

“Do you know that he forced her to drink his blood?”

“Yes, she told me.”

“And what do you think of it?”

“I broke his nose, because I punched him way too hard.”

“Hah”, Yoongi scoffs, “good. I’d have done far worse.”

“I know.”

Yoongi studies his features.

“You’re bearable when you’re without him, brat”, he says, “why does he have to be with us?”

“Because he’s my best friend.”

“He’s an entitled bastard, that’s what he is. He thinks that he has a right to you.”

“Doesn’t everyone who loves someone think that way?”

“Being with someone you love isn’t a right, it’s a privilege. He should be happy that you put up with his shit and you should reconsider your own value.”

“What does that mean?”

“You deserve better. You know that, don’t you?”

“What are you insinuating?” Taehyung seems angry.

“Crying after sex isn’t normal, Taehyung. Feeling too scared to voice your opinion because he could scream at you isn’t either. Neither is making yourself as small as a mouse whenever he’s in the room.”

Taehyung stumbles back, back hitting the shelf. His eyes are widened yet glassy.

“It’s not like that anymore”, he whispers.

“Maybe, but we both know Jimin won’t ever better himself. Not even death was able change his ways.”

“He’s different now”, Taehyung insists.

“I hope you wake up one day. You’re a sweet man, terribly naïve at times, but at your core you are sweet”, Yoongi says, “Jimin shouldn’t be with us. I never liked that he was. He takes that sweetness from you.”

Taehyung blinks rapidly, seeming lost for words for just a moment. He is searching for his voice just long enough that Yoongi turns his shoulder to him to look for the shackles instead.

“So why did you allow Namjoon to live with us?” Taehyung finally throws back, “he’s far worse than Jimin ever was.”

Yoongi grinds his teeth, “because I had to make sure that he behaves and…and because he wasn’t always that way.”

“Neither was Jimin. Namjoon made him that way.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, “touché”, he grumbles, turning his back to Taehyung.

“So you see? It all comes down to Namjoon”, Taehyung says, catching up with him in big steps.

Yoongi looks over his shoulder, right brow cocked up in question.

“He made Jimin the way he is, he is threatening ___ and he is the reason why we are fighting.”

“The reason why we are fighting is your own recklessness, brat”, Yoongi throws back.

“Fine, very well. I must admit, it is also my own recklessness”, Taehyung says, lifting his finger in defeat.

Yoongi scoffs and clicks his tongue.

“But I am truthful. I won’t drink her blood anymore. And if she feels ready for it again, I promise you that I will do it as carefully as possible.”

“And if she won’t ever want it again?”

“Then I won’t do it. All I want is her safety.”

“I want her safety too.”

“Then we can agree on that. Her safety”, Taehyung says, offering Yoongi his hand to shake.

Yoongi eyes it. He takes a deep breath and takes Taehyung’s hand to shake it.

“Her safety”, he says.

“Yes. Her safety”, Taehyung agrees and squeezes his hand, “thank you, Yoongi. For listening to me and telling me how you feel.”

Yoongi studies his face, clicking his tongue in the end, “you can call me hyung”, he whispers.

Taehyung takes a deep breath, feeling his stomach flutter in happiness.

“I understand. Hyung”, he says and smiles brightly.

Yoongi retorts it groggily, pulling his hand back. He turns his attention to the shelf instead.

Taehyung watches him with a light heart. So now they are here. Right in the middle. Quite literally, as well as figuratively.

They have finally met in the middle.

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #vampire!bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #vampire!yoongi #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #vampire!taehyung #jungkook fanfic #vampire!jungkook #hoseok fanfic #vampire!hoseok #seokjin fanfic #vampire!seokjin #jimin fanfic #vampire!jimin #namjoon fanfic #vampire!namjoon #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fanfiction #vampire!bangtan #fanfic: magnus venatio

[nonas-third-tantrum]

I’m losing my mind over mercymorn calling gideon-in-harrow (who she thinks is alecto-in-harrow) a “great big calf-eyed fuck up.” what does that mean??? when she says it she still hasn’t put together that alecto and john swapped eyes. given what we know from nona about cows, what is the significance of john’s yellow eyes being described as calf-like? is mercy referring to the color (unlikely, calf eyes aren’t yellow, unless you’re talking about eyeshine, see below) or to some other quality?

so then you have to wonder: were those actually john’s original eyes or are they some kind of side effect of resurrection? if john had those eyes before the resurrection then at least some of the lyctors would have already known that alecto had his eyes. so he must have had different eyes pre-resurrection. and then the yellow eyes could have something to do with murdering all those cows. right? am I crazy? someone help

#tlt #the locked tomb #tlt meta #john gaius #alecto #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #htn spoilers #nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers

[bnha-dumpster]

The thought of a submissive incubus just came to mind and now I can’t stop imagining the reader (incubus) trying to take control of the situation but gets fucked and tamed instead.

this? this is a good idea. i feel like doing some priest au iida lmao

Pairing: Priest Iida x Incubus Reader Content tags/warnings: dub-con, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, mind break/mild dumbification, aphrodisiac spit Word count: 1.6k

You’re a poor excuse of an incubus, you know this. Naturally submissive, shy and introverted, inexperienced with sex- all things that an incubus shouldn’t be. You’ve been feeding off of other incubi and some succubi for energy. You knew that it wouldn’t last forever, that you’d eventually have to feed off humans. But it’s dangerous with your submissive nature. That’s why you’ve been trying to stay with your kind for as long as possible. 

Now you’ve been tossed out, left on your own without any sort of advice. There’s an intense hunger inside you that’s clawing at you, one that’s clouding your reasoning. You stumble through the streets as if you’re drunk. Humans ignore you thinking you’re just an annoying drunk and you know you’re not going to get energy in time. 

Then you run into a priest. 

“No, I’m fine-” Your speech is slightly slurred as you protest his help. A priest is the last person you need to run into right now. He’ll exorcise you or contain you until you tell him about other incubi in town. Both things scare you and you try to tug yourself out of his hold. Unfortunately for you, the priest you’ve run into is not only stubborn but strong. If you weren’t so weak, you might’ve been able to break away. There are so many things that would’ve been solved if you weren’t so weak.

He helps you walk, leading you to his church. The second you reach the steps, you tug on his cassock and shake your head. 

“I can’t go in there. I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t.” 

Your hopes of him listening to you are crushed instantly as he shushes you and opens the large doors. The moment you step in, your already fading human disguise vanishes. Large, spiraling horns protrude from the sides of your head, a thin tail at the base of your spine, your hands and feet turned to claws and the small tattoo below your navel; if he can’t tell you’re an incubus from this, you don’t know what will.

The priest stops and stares at you, letting go of you. You fall to your knees on the floor, no longer strong enough to keep yourself standing. It’s humiliating to be found out in such a way. Though it’s your fault for allowing yourself to be grabbed by the priest in the first place. 

“An incubus?” He seems a bit curious as he kneels before you, lifting your chin to look at your face. “You’re not doing so well. What happened to you?” 

What little pride you have left keeps you from answering. 

“You must be hungry. While my fellow clergy may look down at me for this, I’ll help you.”

Confusion is clear on your face. You look at him like he’s insane. Maybe he is, but the thought of being able to feed matters a bit more than figuring out where the hell his common sense went. 

“I thought incubi were good at pleasing their partners.” He’s mocking you. The priest, who introduced himself as Iida Tenya, looks down at you as you do your best to take him into your mouth. He’s thick and your jaw aches slightly, but that ache naturally turns into pleasure that goes straight to your core. “You’re inexperienced, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll help you.” 

Hands grab your horns and force your face further, making you take his cock down your throat. While you don’t gag, you’re clearly uncomfortable. You claw at his wrists to make him stop but it doesn’t seem to bother him. 

“See, you take all of your partner’s cock into your mouth.” Iida groans. “Suck and move your tongue around it. You can do it, I’m sure you can.” 

Surely he’s making fun of you. You may not be like the others, but you can still do what you were born to do. So you begin to bob your head up and down, letting things come to you naturally. His cock is heavy on your tongue as you lick the underside of it, teasing the vein that runs along it. You make use of your lack of gag reflex and make sure that you take him fully each time. 

It seems like it’s working, like you’re gaining some semblance of control. Just from this, energy is already beginning to flow your body. If you can make him cum, then maybe-

“Tsk, I thought you’d be better than this.” Seems like he knows exactly what’s going through your mind. “Do you really think you can overtake a priest when you’re in such a state? Don’t be foolish.” 

You’re tugged off his cock. Iida is about to grab you by your hair and bring you up onto the bed until you press a hand on his lower stomach. You have enough strength to leave a branding: a piece of incubus magic that forces a human to be overcome with lust. It typically leaves them a mess, unable to do anything but beg for pleasure. But going along with your lack of luck, it backfires. 

The feeling of intense lust fills the room and instead of the priest curling in himself, he drags you onto the bed by your horns. You’re laying on the bed with your ass up, Iida already lining himself up with your hole. 

“Natural lubricant, hm?” There’s a bit of slick coating your ass and inner thighs. It’s something incubi are able to make when they’re anticipating being the bottom. 

He pushes in slowly. Your hole greedily swallows his cock, clenching around it to milk him. Iida grabs hold of your tail and wraps it around his hand like a leash, using it to bring your ass against his hips. You can feel the heat of the brand and the lust radiating from him. The fact that he’s managing to stay even the slightest bit composed is amazing. 

“You’re begging for me to give in, aren’t you? You just want me to let go and let you have your way with me, yes?” 

“C-clearly!” 

Once the words leave your lips, a harsh spank is left on your ass. The pain instantly changes to pleasure and you tighten around him. He begins to spank you more, enjoying the way your walls clench and shudder with each impact. You’re doing your best to hold in any moans and pleasured noises to spite Iida. It’s all you can seem to manage to do. Even with strength filling you, he’s still got a good hold on you.

Your cock twitches from neglect. It’s not that you need it to be touched, you just prefer it. Yes, you can cum without touching it, but you want to touch it. So you reach between your legs to pump your cock, letting out a small groan. But your hand is swatted away. 

“Who said you could touch yourself?

He lets go of your tail and and pulls out, watching you flip yourself over. His cock twitches in anticipation when you pull him towards you for a kiss. 

Your tongue is long and clearly inhuman. It invades his throat and nearly makes him gag. The properties of your saliva are forgotten, letting his mind become a haze. Between the brand fueling his lust and the sudden warmth caused by your saliva, he loses what little cleric dignity he had. 

Iida pulls your face away from his by your hair, pushing you back onto the bed so he can thrust into you again. Your legs go over his shoulders and you’re able to recognize that the priest has you in a mating press before he begins to pound into you. He smashes his lips against yours, mouth open- he’s asking you to kiss him more. You happily do so, thinking that the haze he’s being enveloped in will give you a chance to take control. Lips mash against each other as you shove your spit down his throat with your tongue. 

The aphrodisiacs in his system must be too much and he cums, filling you. A strange daze washes over you and you lose your focus on the brand. Is this what human energy is like? It’s absolutely addicting. That addicting feeling pushes you over the edge, your own cock covering your stomach in cum. Your eyes roll back into your skull and you lose yourself for a few seconds.

He hasn’t stopped and you don’t think he will anytime soon. His cock is still hard, stretching you and pushing his cum even deeper inside you. 

“Maybe I’ll keep you, hm?” When did he regain his mind? “Keep you like a little pet. You’ll have to rely on me to survive anyways.”

Your mind is still in a haze and he takes advantage of it. He continues to pound into you with no pause, his own stamina still high. While your cock is limp against your stomach, he watches as more cum dribbles out of it. 

“Be a good incubus and cum more and more. If you do what I ask, I’ll give you more than you could ever need.” 

If you could think properly, you would curse how obedient your body is. Your cock twitches to life for a few moments before you cum again, an almost never ending stream of cum landing on your stomach. He groans as your walls clench around him. It’s like your body is begging for more of him, which it is. 

“There you go. I’ll keep you here so you can’t hurt anyone else.” That’s not the real reason he’s keeping you, but that doesn’t matter. You’re already lost to his words, the feeling of a human’s energy destroying your mind.

#tenya iida x reader #iida x reader #iida tenya x reader #iida tenya x male reader #bnha x reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader smut

[jackalopesao3]

Obey Me Cast Receiving Oral HCs

Super NSFW

⛔️ Minors do not read/interact ⛔️

⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️

I don't even like giving blowjobs but here we are 🤷‍♀️ I have no idea why I felt the need to write this. I'm such a hoe for these fictional demons, a fictional angel, and a fictional sorcerer. Please put me out of my misery.

Characters: The Brothers, Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, and Solomon

Lucifer

💙 Likes to be in control when receiving so you will be on your knees.

💙 Sometimes he will stand and other times he will sit at his desk chair.

💙 Likes to keep a hand on your head to control your movements.

💙 Sometimes he'll just hold your head still with both hands and fuck your face.

💙 Typically doesn't get naked for them and just unzips his trousers.

💙 Lucifer isn't very expressive when receiving and stays pretty composed. He'll either just stare at whatever is in front of him or look down at you to make sure you're servicing him properly.

💙 Loves the feeling of your lips wrapping around his cock and deepthroating him.

💙 When he gets to close to release, a very faint blush will spread across his cheeks and his mouth will open just slightly in a silent pant.

💙 He lets out one breathy moan when he cums and his eyes close.

💙 Will praise you for your efforts and stroke your head as he comes down from his high.

Mammon

💛 Is a blushing mess when he's receiving.

💛 "Of course you want to pleasure the Great Mammon."

💛 Prefers you on the bed with him while he's on his back, he can hide his facial expressions better this way.

💛 He gets hot easily so his clothes always end up in a pile on the floor.

💛 Is very sensitive. Has come from just you licking and teasing underneath his head.

💛 He is a whiny, needy, drooling mess. He just looks so adorable when his breaths puff out from his reddened face.

💛 Will also keen and bite his pillow as he nears release.

💛 You may have to hold his hips still as he will start bucking his hips uncontrollably. He just gets so into it.

💛 Slip a finger into his ass and curl it while you deepthroat him and Mammon.EXE will stop working.

💛 Gets really clingy after he fills your mouth with his seed. He is super affectionate and thanks you for pleasing him.

Leviathan

🧡 Is also a blushing mess when receiving. No matter how long you've been in a relationship, he is still a shy boy at heart.

🧡 Leviathan is loud. You have to be careful when his brothers are home due to the volume of his moans.

🧡 Will totally let you go down on him while he's gaming. Has forgotten to mute his mic before though so best to remind him lest his teammates hear all those lewd noises he makes from your ministrations.

🧡 Will give you shy little praises as you suck him off. "Y/N...s-so good...aah!"

🧡 He can go either way with keeping his clothes on. If he's not gaming while you're doing it, he likes when you take your time with him and strip him of his clothes.

🧡 Despite thinking of himself as a, "yucky otaku", when you kiss down his body and praise him it makes his heart soar.

🧡 He is very sensitive, almost as much as Mammon. He will tear up from the pleasure.

🧡 He loves when you cosplay as his favorite characters during the act.

🧡 Play with his balls gently while bobbing your head up and down on his length and he will lose it.

🧡 When he gets close to climax his toes curl and he bites his lip.

🧡 Afterwards he likes to pull you close and kiss all over your face while repeatedly whispering "I love you," to you again and again.

Satan

💚 Prefers to be in control when you're going down on him and much like Lucifer, you will find yourself on your knees.

💚 Likes to be seated in a chair, clothed or unclothed it depends on his mood.

💚 If he's feeling particularly randy that day, he will collar and leash you, holding your leash as he looks down at you working so hard to please him.

💚 He loves watching your head bob up and down on his cock but he also enjoys holding your head still and fucking your face.

💚 If he has any precum on his head before you start, he will tell you to lick it off, watching intently as your tongue laps up each little bead.

💚 Will growl things like, "Right there, kitten! Don't stop!" when he's getting close. He growls in arousal, doesn't moan.

💚 Despite his almost feral growling as you bring him to the edge, he remains in control. Will keep his dick perfectly still as he empties his seed down your throat, you can feel his member throbbing against your tongue as he releases.

💚 Likes to pull you on his lap afterwards and praise you for a job well done.

Asmodeus

💗 Asmodeus loves a good blowjob, anytime and any place really.

💗 "Such a naughty little minx, aren't you, Y/N?" He'll tease you if you do it somewhere you could get caught.

💗 When the two of you are alone, he prefers that you both are naked so you can enjoy each other's bodies in all their glory.

💗 Please worship his cock and tell him how amazing it is - kiss along its length and rub his balls.

💗 He likes when you start with his tip, sucking on it softly and slowly taking more and more of him into your mouth.

💗 Is very vocal, calling out your name while he moans in ecstasy.

💗 If you're okay with it, he will take pictures of you with your lips wrapped around his cock or your tongue licking up his shaft.

💗 Kiss and suck along the underside of his member to watch him lose his mind.

💗 His moans get louder and louder as he reaches climax and he will stroke your hair as he cums, cupping your cheek as he watches you drink every last drop.

💗 He is also very cuddly and loving afterwards and will snuggle into your side.

Beelzebub

❤️ Will suggest doing a 69 with you - he loves to give and the vibrations from the moans you make around his cock.

❤️ Beel gets hot easily, so he prefers being naked when receiving.

❤️ Does get worried about you choking on his massive length and girth of his package.

❤️ Seeing your cheeks stuffed full of everything he has to offer is a big turn on though.

❤️ Despite not having control with things like food, Beelzebub is a very gentle lover and good at controlling his reactions. He's very aware of his size and strength.

❤️ He's vocal, letting out low moans and guttural growls as you work him towards release.

❤️ Insists on making you as comfortable as possible so isn't picky on what position the two of you are in.

❤️ Loves when you suck on his balls and tease them.

❤️ Will warn you when he's about to release as he typically cums a lot more than the average demon.

❤️ He will moan your name as he empties himself down your throat and thank you afterwards.

❤️ Definitely cuddles afterwards and will want to return the favor as soon as you're ready.

Belphegor

💜 Will be a pillow prince on days he's feeling particularly in tune with his sin.

💜 Just lays on the bed as you suck him off, eyes closed and letting out soft moans.

💜 Gets incredibly aroused if you tease him and will beg for release if he's in more of a sub mood that day.

💜 On other days he likes you on your back while he straddles you.

💜 Will fuck your face as you lay on the bed, in complete control of your body as he thrusts in and out of your mouth.

💜 Likes both of you to be naked when he's on top like that.

💜 Belphie has just a slight sadistic streak in the bedroom and gets turned on when you're all but choking around him.

💜 He will never hurt you though and if you show any sign of distress, he stops immediately.

💜 For either position, his tail will come out and wrap around you affectionately.

💜 When he's on his back, he whispers your name as he releases his seed into your mouth. If he's on top, he lets out a growl as he fills your throat with his cum.

💜 Is always up for cuddling after. Gets really sleepy after orgasm. Likes to nuzzle into your neck and shoulder while his arms, legs, and tail wrap around you.

Diavolo

💙 I wholeheartedly agree with the majority of the fandom that Diavolo has a huge dick so he tries his very best not to buck his hips when you go down on him for fear of hurting you.

💙 He likes to sit on the edge of the bed while you kneel between his legs so he can watch you. Diavolo absolutely adores you and loves seeing you work your little mouth around his girth and length. He always has a comfy pillow for you to kneel on so you don't feel sore.

💙 If you can't kneel, that's okay. Dia is honestly quite happy with any position. He wants his lover to be as comfortable as possible.

💙 He let's out soft moans and whines. He's definitely touched starved so he gets really into it. Don't be surprised if he lets out a deep growl and fists your hair.

💙 He loves praising you while you suck him off. He will stroke your face and hair lovingly during gentle sessions.

💙 One of his favorite things is when you make eye contact with him and the two of you exchange a loving look. He loves when all your attention is focused on him. Sometimes he will take one of your hands and lace your fingers together, giving your hand a squeeze when you lick a particularly sensitive spot.

💙 When Diavolo cums, he cums A LOT. He will warn you ahead of time and always gives you the option of swallowing. He will not be hurt in the least if you spit. He knows his load is a lot to handle.

💙 Diavolo likes to reciprocate and will happily go down on you afterwards if he hasn't already.

💙 He loves to cuddle and becomes slightly possessive post-orgasm and will hold you close to him.

Barbatos

💛 This man is not used to others doing things for him both in and out of the bedroom. He probably doesn't have a lot of time to relieve himself either as he's so busy.

💛 That being said, he prefers to sit or lay down on the bed when you go down on him. He wants to be completely relaxed so he can focus on the pleasure you're giving him.

💛  For some reason, I imagine him being slightly shy about it. You will have to ask/initiate. It's probably been a long time since he's had intimacy with anyone. Barbatos might even be a bit shy about it.

💛 He doesn't make much noise except for some small gasps when you swirl your tongue on his head just right. He may let out a few soft grunts and pants as well.

💛 Barb likes foreplay and when you take your time pleasing him. He wants to enjoy these rare moments of intimacy with you. Play with his nipples and gently bite his thighs when you're warming up. That will really get his blood pumping.

💛 He tends to stiffen up as he comes before letting out low moan and releasing all that tension. He really doesn't care if you spit or swallow. He is sure to praise you after.

Solomon

💗 Shady wizard is likely a horn dog and will let you suck him off just about anywhere. Sometimes he'll even pull his cloak around you and hide you in it while you do your thing to him.

💗 When you're alone he prefers to sit or stand so he can watch you. Will place a hand on your head and sometimes help you bob your head up and down on his length.

💗 Solomon isn't shy about telling you what he wants. He'll tell you when to suck and where to lick and will watch you as he gives you instruction.

💗 Sometimes he'll just hold your head still and fuck your face when he's feeling particularly dominant. He'll also talk dirty to you as he uses you and your mouth like a sex doll.

💗 He uses magic to soundproof the room if he wants to be loud. Definitely curses and grunts as he's getting close.

💗 If you don't want to swallow, he'll occasionally pull out and come on your face or chest. Will pat you on the head afterwards while teasing and also praising you.

Simeon

💚 Holy boy is still a horny boy at times but he is the most shy out of everyone. You will definitely have to ask and be the one to bring it up.

💚 Always makes sure the door is locked and that he has some kind of sound proofing spell up as he doesn't want anyone walking in.

💚 Even with a sound proofing spell, he's still rather quiet. Simeon will bite his wrist or muffle his cries into a pillow.

💚 Prefers to be on his back so you can't his flushed face and his blissful expression. He also wants you to be comfortable though so he will do another position if that's better for you.

💚 The underside of his shaft is pretty sensitive and he will buck his hips on reflex if you slowly trail your tongue from his balls to the underside of his head.

💚 The closer he gets to orgasm the less he cares about keeping quiet. Will moan and sigh your name as he fills your mouth with his seed.

💚 Is a little shy afterwards but also clingy. Simeon will hold you close but will blush when he makes eye contact with you.

#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #om! swd #obey me hcs #obey me hc #obey me headcanons #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #leviathan obey me #satan obey me #asmodeus obey me #beelzebub obey me #belphegor obey me #obey me diavolo #diavolo obey me #barbatos obey me #simeon obey me #solomon obey me #belphie obey me #beel obey me #levi obey me #asmo obey me #diavolo swd #om! lucifer #lucifer swd #mammon swd #leviathan swd #satan swd

[bloomyagi]

bleed me dry (m)

summary: where Itadori is your bottom-loving boyfriend and Sukuna reluctantly learns this vessel is the real curse. or: where seduction is a dangerous game, and the King of Curses loses.

pairings: itadori x f!reader, sukuna x f!reader

warnings: subby itadori, sub sukuna (yeah you read that right), light bondage, blindfolds, sukuna’s havin a whole ‘reconsidering life’s meaning’ moment, lotta swear cause u know sukuna things, coming untouched, he faints (yeah you also read that right) and is actually unabashed about it, all things considered

length: 1,432

notes: what? me? obsessed with jjk? that doesn’t sound like me at all! 

.

.

.

His vessel is in love.

The word curdles in his mouth, tastes like ash. He has never known such a thing. It is part of his nature, he muses absently. Hardened from centuries of death and decay. Of destruction and war. He revels in it. Feels the most alive amongst the chaos.

But that’s the point. Curses can feel. They can have emotional attachment. Can’t you see? In so many ways, they’re not so different from us. He thinks you’re too loud. Your thoughts and beliefs are too loud. They’re also pointless and naïve, and he likes to pop by just to drive it home.

Hello, Sukuna. Where is the fear? Where is the resentment, the anger? The disgust? He enjoys it. But you—you just sit there and coax him into conversation like he’s another one of your classmates. Like he can’t crush your windpipe with a single flick of his hand. Like he isn’t the slow bleed of a death sentence for your lover. Like he isn’t anything at all. Like his titles and powers are stripped. What is he beyond it all? Who is he?

You ask about him sometimes. He rarely gives any indication he’s listening, but he does. Of course he does. There’s not much to do, bound and locked in this pink-haired boy. He lounges on this throne and watches his vessel pine and blush.

Sukuna watches his vessel fuck his fist and mewl your name every night.

It’s sad. “Brat,” he hisses. “Grow some balls. This is just pathetic.”

Itadori swallows. “Oh. Can you—?”

Sukuna shoves him off the ledge. A faint yelp travels, followed by a large splash. “Fuck her already. All this sitting and plotting is making my ass itch. If you won’t, I will.”

“You wouldn’t.” Sukuna tilts his head to peer down. Itadori’s eyes are narrowed, uncharacteristically solemn.

His lips bare into a slow grin. “Try me.”

Itadori blinks once. And then vanishes.

.

.

.

Fuck. It’s the only coherent thought his muddled mind can pierce together. He gazes down at his palm, opening and closing languidly. His vision is blurry, spine tingling. He raises the other hand, reaching for his palm.

Mmm. He shakes his head firmly. The sharp tinge of metallic and iron coating his tongue clears the fog a little. The pain fades quickly, muted from his years of conquest and ruin.

Every nerve is on fire. His skin, this flesh cage, burns, an unfamiliar heat curling in his lower stomach. Sukuna is no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh—is well-acquainted, spent much of the centuries indulging in his vast harems. In the haze of blood and carnage, there is the memory of writhing bodies, of soft thighs and breasts, of glazed eyes and cries of his name. Of women fucked into wanton abandon, bred and lost in the worship of his cock.

But this. This heat is foreign in every sense. In its strange intensity and all-encompassing hold. All his senses are heightened but laser focused on the other pair of hands mapping his body. On the addicting sensations they’re inducing.

Can you—? Yes. Yes, he fucking can. He can feel everything and he wants to wrap his hand around your throat and squeeze.

His eyes roll back. Ngh.

“Fucking wench,” he snarls. You’re a fuckin’ tease and if you edge him again, he is going to murder—

“Ah, ah. Watch your language, Sukuna. Ask nicely.”

He jolts. Finds his eyes cloaked in darkness, arms tied to his back and legs spread. Bare, save for a pair of briefs that’s slick and restricting. Kneeling. The sheets bunch beneath him. Every muscle in his body is tensed, body coated in a thin layer of sweat.

This position—!

“That brat—mmph!” Is that a fucking—gag? Did you just gag him? He struggles harder against the binds, but he feels your lips curl into a smile where you’re suckling against the column of his neck.

“You’re powerless here. The binds will restrict you for the next twenty-four hours … unless you can be good.” You trace the thick knots, smiling only growing at the way he lets out a muffled growl.

Every fucking sense is heightened tenfold. He’s on firefirefire. The flames consuming him inside out, like he’s being exorcised from within.  

It’s humiliating. It’s exhilarating. It feels—

“King of Curses. I want you to beg.” You’re a witch. You’re enthralling. Temptation incarnate. His head falls forward, chest heaving.

“Mmmmf!”

“What a dirty mouth,” you murmur, and his struggling is renewed when he feels your fingers dig into his thighs.

Oi, brat, he growls. What the hell is this?

His vessel is silent, but the back of his mind prickles. He’s watching. That freaky little shit.

“So stubborn. Let go. You’re good at that, aren’t you?” Fuckfuckfuck, you’re palming his cock over the thin fabric. Maybe it’s been a while, maybe there’s a little more truth lurking beneath it, but he vaguely notes he’s never been so hard before.

You—! You’re fuckin’ burning his briefs off. Ash tickles his nose. A small part of him thinks it’s hot. His cock throbs, and even without visual confirmation, he knows you’ve paused at the sheer size. His mouth curls into a lopsided smirk, dark pride making his chest swell. What was he so worked up for? You’ll just end being another one of his breeding bitches, fucked stupid by his thick, long cock.

But then you pinch his left nipple, twisting harshly. Electricity courses through him and a sound he’s never heard in his absurdly long life escape his lips, muffled by the gag. His back arcs, head hitting the mattress beneath him.

His mind blanks, eyes rolling back as white noise fills his ears.

.

.

.

He rouses slowly.

He blinks lethargically at the ceiling, gaze unfocused. Everything feels muted, limbs heavy like he’s swimming in a pool of ink. But he’s not restrained anymore. There’s a blur of movement in the corner of his eye.

He turns his head to peer at you, half-lidded.

“That’s a very nice expression,” you chuckle, moving to sit by his side. The mattress dips lightly. He lifts a hand to tug at the hem of your outfit, expression twisting at the staggering movement.

“That’s a very nice look on you,” he murmurs in response. You’re wearing one of his vessel’s dress shirts, the oversized fabric falling mid-thigh. It simultaneously swallows you and presses against your curves. Something inside him stirs. His throat feels shot, even though he knows he hasn’t had much of a chance to speak.

You help him sit up, propped against the headrest, before offering him a glass of water. His lips lift into a half-smirk and you sigh, shaking your head but acquiescing. You take a mouthful before kissing him. Water dribbles down his chin.

You wipe it away with a half-fond, half-exasperated expression. His chest tightens.

“How long—?” He tries to move, but you stop him with a firm hand. He’s conflicted at the way his body responds immediately to the touch. His temperature flares despite his obvious fatigue.

“A few hours. I asked if Yuuji would keep you out until you woke.”

There’s a pause, and the knowing look in your eye tells him you know he’s mulling it over.

And then—

He reaches for you, and you set the glass aside to climb on his lap.

He bares his fangs. “Then let’s make the most of it.”

As you press him into the bed, tongue stroking his in such a manner his brain is starting to haze over again quickly, he thinks, brat, we’re going to have a long talk after this.

Sukuna doesn’t expect an answer after his vessel’s continued vigil, so he starts when Itadori replies, she’s ours.

I don’t share, he slurs. He thinks he sees a flicker of Itadori’s grin.

You’re going to have to. Because you like her, too. And she’s the one in control, not either of us.

Dimly, Sukuna acknowledges he’s right. You might be the one bouncing on his cock, but he’s not the one fucking you, you’re the one fucking him.

Fine, he gasps as you run your nails down his abdomen. Deal.

Good, his vessel says. Because I’m next, and you better not get in the way.

He growls, eyebrows knitting.

Your smile only grows.

#jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #itadori x reader #yuji itadori x reader #itadori smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #sub!sukuna

[apocalypticgargoyle]

the “we’re fake dating to make someone jealous but actually end up together trope” reminds me of drrreeeaaaammmm😇😇😇

-🧚🏻‍♀️

YES YES 🧚 ANON I LOVE UR IDEAS YES.

I also included these: WELCOME 🦀 ANON and as always, 🍭 anon I'm in love w u.

[𝐁𝐎𝐘]𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃. ♘ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: dream x reader (dre™ my beloved)

warnings: vulgar language, mentions of sex, basically that one scene from Easy A, me lowkey trying so hard not to get carried away

You took a sip of your drink; your mind racing with Clay’s words as you debated his plea. You hated the idea of pitting yourself against someone else for an envy factor and meddling in the love lives of your friends, but you knew you’d do anything for Clay. He could mention needing to kill a president and without a word, you’d be by his side. It had always been that way, so why were you so shaken by his request. Then again, you had brought it upon yourself.

“See that girl over there?” Clay asked, barely nodding toward the kitchen as he slumped down to your height so you could hear him over the pulsing music. The smell of the cologne your cousin bought him one Christmas in the hopes that he’d ask her to marry him wafted towards you. You had noticed how he had attempted to clean himself up when the two of you met at the bus stop before traveling to this shindig, but you had brushed it off, knowing it was probably for some girl’s attention.

You peered over his shoulder, seeing the kitchen packed with females. You shrugged slightly. “Yeah, which one?” You asked, raising your eyebrows.

He rolled his eyes. “As if it’s not obvious,” he mumbled sarcastically after realizing what you were talking about. His hand moved to hold your face, squishing your cheeks between his fingers as he angled your head towards one of the various women.

She looked up at the right moment, making eye contact with you and you pulled out of Clay’s grip, already knowing how idiotic the two of you looked staring at her as he blatantly was pointing her out to you. “Oh my god, she saw,” you whispered quickly and he drew in a sharp breath, the two of you freezing as if something were going to happen.

When she didn’t approach the pair of you, you went on like it hadn’t happened, Clay beginning to tell you about why he mentioned her. “We hooked up after calculus a few times,” he smugly boasted.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Why are you still in calculus? Aren’t you a jun-”

“That’s beside the point,” he added, crossing his arms. “She hasn’t texted me back lately.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, peering back over in her direction. It always shook Clay up when a girl didn’t vie for his attention. He was attractive and popular on campus, but there were always a few that would slip through his fingers. And it drove him absolutely crazy.

You wet your lips, exhaling as you thought. “Maybe it’s because you’re too available?” You spoke, thinking out loud and more to yourself than him. He tilted his head as if urging you to continue. You took a sip of your drink, also wondering what you’d meant. “Just start fooling around with another girl and she’ll come running,” you offered.

He nodded along as you spoke, leaning a hand against the wall behind you. “Wanna fool around with me?” He jested, making you snort.

“Oh come on now,” you broke, dropping your head back against the wall, nearly missing his thumb.

He sent you a cheeky expression. “No, you come on now. You suggested it!”

You lightly punched his chest as if to get him to hear you instead of just listen to you. “I didn’t mean me, idiot! Don’t you have like fifteen other people in your phone?”

His shoulders slumped. “Please! I’ve seen you charm the pants off Karl and Sapnap at the same time,” he begged. He straightened up as if he was about to reluctantly agree to something. “I’ll paint your kitchen like you’ve been asking,” he mumbled.

And that’s how you found yourself leaning against Clay’s side as the two of you talked to a group of his friends. His arm curled around your waist, fingers gliding beneath the hem of your shirt to settle against the skin of your hip. You willed yourself to think of something other than his fingers pressed against you, fighting every urge to blush at the contact.

The song switched to a stereotypical dance song and people began to move. You downed the rest of your drink to psych yourself up before eyeing the girl momentarily and standing on your toes to reach Clay’s ear. You wrapped your arm around his shoulder as you told him to dance with you, knowing she was watching the two of you with searing eyes.

You knew he was fighting to see her expression, keeping his eyes on you as you pulled him towards the mass of people by his belt loop. “This is going to be super cringey before the both of us, just pretend you like it,” you bit as you pressed your back to him.

His hands dropped to your waist, moving with you to the beat. “Maybe I will enjoy myself. Don’t be so bossy,” he chided, voice raspy and warm in your ear from talking over the music for most of the night. He was a loud guy, but he always seemed to lose his voice after a party.

You turned in his arms, his body close to yours. “Don’t get too excited,” you jested, pressing a hand to his abdomen as you kept up with him, letting him drop his head beside yours.

“Oh, bet. I’ll get so drunk and mistake you for someone else,” he mocked, his voice a welcome break as it penetrated through the heavy bass of the song.

You scoffed. “Like who? Your cousin?” You teased, making him bite back a laugh as he bit his lip. You felt a laser gaze digging into your back as his hands moved you pull your waist against him. Your hand moved to pull his face to the crook of your neck. You could see her at the new angle; glaring at you over her cup. You felt guilt twist in the pit of your stomach. You’d been at it for a few hours and you were ready to amp it up before she left without him.

“Dream, take me upstairs,” you mumbled into his ear. He pulled away from you, brows threatening to furrow at your words. “Trust me,” you gritted, slipping your hand into his and making it apparent you were looking for a room with him in tow. He was quiet as you lead the way. From where you were walking, you saw her move to inch towards the steps as if she was investigating what you were doing with him. You knew it was in bad taste to set anyone up for jealousy but Clay was your friend, and you really needed your kitchen painted.

You found an empty room, tugging him inside and locking the door. He looked at you with a red tinge to his cheeks. You weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment as if he’d been thinking about what the two of you would be doing in the room, or if it was just from the alcohol. “What now?” He asked.

You chuckled, grabbing his wrist. “Fuck me,” you stated, the words feeling weird with him on the receiving end. His eyes went wide and he awkwardly moved his hands as if he were going to touch you. You rolled your eyes, swatting away his hands before grabbing his wrist and pulling him up to stand on the bed with you after you kicked off your shoes.

You started jumping on the bed, but he just looked at you with a confused expression, making you gesture for him to copy you. He was always like that; you telling him to do something and without actually questioning, he’d go along with you.

You could hear talking outside the door and something clicked in your head. “Oh, that feels so good, Clay. Don’t stop,” you falsely moaned, glaring at him as he struggled not to laugh, the two of you jumping almost in sync as the mattress squeaked beneath your weight.

You motioned for him to add and he looked up to the ceiling, attempting to recover from everything that was happening. “You like that? Slut,” he matched your tone, making you roll your eyes and cover your mouth to hide your laugh at the degradation.

You moaned again, and he giggled quietly, moaning with you. The two of you had begun to loosen up, even timing your jumps so you could double jump and throw Clay off balance. If someone had told you a week prior that you’d be jumping on a nameless person’s bed with your best friend, pretending he was nailing you into tomorrow, you would have laughed. But it probably wouldn’t have surprised you.

The two of you slowed down, winded from the unnecessary exercise. You shrugged slightly, mimicking what you would sound like during an orgasm. It came out weak and Clay looked at you like you’d stabbed him in the chest. He mouthed, “Come on.” You rolled your eyes, wondering how you had found yourself in that position before moaning again, this time a bit too accurately.

You covered your mouth and Clay’s ears turned red as he laughed slightly. You’d been roommates with a friend of his in the past and it nearly dawned on you that he might have heard the sound from you before. You brushed the thought from your mind before it could completely sink in as you got off the bed. He plopped down on the edge of the mattress, catching his breath as you straightened your clothing, tugging your shoes back on. There was something hanging in the air between the two of you now, but you had quickly decided that you’d rather not address it.

After that night, you weren’t really sure how it had gone between Clay and the girl. You wanted to ask him about it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to after you noticed the two leaving together. You had done your job, maybe a bit too well.

In fact, the two of you had been avoiding each other since then. It wasn’t until a week later that you were finally in the same room with him at a birthday party for a mutual friend of yours. The two of you glanced at each other awkwardly before you stood beside him, nudging his arm with your own.

“So, how’d it go with that one girl?” You asked, glancing up at him, your eyes then settling on the group spread around the room talking amongst themselves.

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Uh, yeah I ended up just driving her home,” he muttered, chewing on his bottom lip. You raised an eyebrow at him. “I just… I wasn’t in the mood anymore. I don’t know…”

You nodded at his statement, deciding that it was ridiculous for you to feel so weird around him for nothing. You knew it was all in your head and he wouldn’t be walking around on eggshells if you weren’t making him. This was Clay, after all. “All that work and for what?” You joked.

He sent you a smile, his shoulders relaxing. “I mean, come on. You had to have enjoyed that-”

You cut him off. “Oh yeah, grinding on you was literally the greatest time of my life,” you quipped sarcastically.

He grinned smugly. “I mean, it was the greatest time of my life to hear you moaning my name.”

You scoffed. “Hope you recorded it,” you mumbled, making him nod in agreement. You rolled your eyes playfully as everyone moved to gather around each other. Seats quickly filled up and Clay sent you a sly grin, patting his lap.

Just to prove a point, you took his offer, making him tense up as if he wasn’t expecting you to. He sat up a bit straighter to even the two of you out, making you shift on his lap. You moved again, setting your drink on one of the nearby tables and he groaned. You froze, hoping no one had noticed his hand press into your hip.

His lips were beside your ear; breath warm and inviting. “Stop moving,” he bit, voice barely above a whisper.

Your mouth curled into a smirk. “Why? Can’t control yourself?” You jeered, making his grip tighten on you.

“Don’t tease,” he nipped, making you smile wider. You moved again, this time pulling your knee to your chest and leaning back against him. With the new movement, you could feel him harden beneath you, and for some reason, you were into it. Your escapades in the bedroom had given you a series of oddly sexual dreams about Clay. Maybe this was your chance to relieve what tension had been built between the two of you.

His other arm moved to wrap around your knee, cementing you in place. “Cut it out,” he hissed, making your eyes settle on his. You could tell by the lust-blown look in his eyes that he was already thinking about you too.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” You quizzed, your heart hammering in your chest as his eyes danced back and forth between yours, searching your face for a hint of joking.

You could feel his heart skip a beat. “Really?” He asked, waiting for you to redact your words. You nodded. “You’re serious?”

“As serious as your mom and the pool boy,” you joked, instantly lightening the mood as he rolled his eyes, leaning forward and digging his face into the crook of your neck and making you laugh. You got off his lap, moving towards the birthday boy and saying your goodbyes with the claim that you had an upset stomach so Clay was driving you home.

When the two of you finally got out of the apartment building, Clay turned to you. He spoke with a clear tone now, “This is real,” his words coming out as a question in and of itself. “You’re not fucking with me?”

You sighed, shaking your head before grabbing onto his jacket and pressing your lips against his, your body flush against him as his hands hesitantly wrapped around you. Your kiss quickly became hungry and passionate. You’d never kissed him before; usually opting to live vicariously through your friends. As your hands carded into his hair, his fingers fisted in your clothing, almost as if you would float away from him.

Clay broke away almost breathlessly, his lips moving to press against your neck. “I want you,” he groaned, making you moan in response. As he pulled you towards his car, you knew the two of you would finally be relieving some long-time festering tension.

#🦀 anon #🍭 anon #🧚🏻‍♀️ anon #dream x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x you #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x you #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x you #dreamwastaken fluff #dreamwastaken fanfic #dreamwastaken imagine #dream fluff #dream imagine

[cinnaminsvga]

a love that endures | Yoongi

→ summary: 

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look who’s coming over to say hello!”

{or alternatively: Yoongi and Y/N. Y/N and Yoongi. High school sweethearts that were never meant to last, until a reunion ten years later manages to reignite a flame that never quite burnt out.} 

→ genre: high school reunion!au, exes to lovers, fluff, humor, minor angst → warnings: shy!yoongi and shy!oc live rent free in my brain, mutual pining is poggers, hoseok and seokjin aren’t evil for once in a cinnaminsvga fic, implied smut so it’s pg-13 because i’m a wimp → words: 14.4K → a/n: SHE’S ALIVE!! this is dedicated to @himbeaux-joon​ who commissioned this piece ages ago. thank you again for requesting this because this was honestly so much fun to write. i’ve been in a bit of writing slump these past few weeks but this fic came out so easily and got way longer than expected (perhaps because it’s about yoongi and he’s always been the easiest one to write for me). enjoy!! ;o;

The mere sight of him is enough to knock the wind out of you.

Your body freezes, the hand curled around your paper cup filled with punch tightening ever so slightly. It isn’t like you’re surprised that he came; you aren’t supposed to be. Of course, you should have expected his arrival, but you’ve been hoping all night that he might have been too busy to attend.

He isn’t even on time—it has almost been two hours since the event started and you had been filled with a false hope that perhaps he had RSVP’d and decided he couldn’t make it. 

You had seen Hoseok, his best friend from your younger days, standing outside the entrance of the ballroom before they had started letting people in. The moment Hoseok saw you, he immediately came over to sweep you into a tight hug, his infectious laughter ringing in your ears. He had greeted you happily, expressing how much he missed you since high school, but never once bringing up the elephant in the room.

It wasn’t like you were going to bring him up first. No, that would be weird on your part. Nevermind the fact that going to high school reunions was a recipe for reliving past traumas and seeing all your childhood friends either married or pregnant—you weren’t going to be that person who asked where their ex was. You refused to be the person craning their neck to spy on the entrance every two minutes, hoping to catch sight of an old familiar face.

The problem is that you are that person, and you kind of hate yourself for it. However, it is also the reason why you are probably the only person in the entire ballroom who notices his quiet arrival.

He has never liked causing commotions, which is often apparent from the way he conducts himself. He walks into the room just as a loud round of applause breaks out; an old schoolmate of yours is walking up to the podium, probably the person who had arranged the get-together in the first place. It is a perfect distraction for him as he slinks past the door, keeping near the wall so as not to be seen by anyone just yet.

(Except he has been seen—he just doesn’t know it yet.)

You do not know for how long you stare at him, just that it takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken a breath since he stepped foot into the same space as you. You take a deep, shuddering breath, forcing your racing heartbeat to calm down. You swallow thickly, throat so unbearably dry that even drinking from your lukewarm cup of punch doesn’t seem to do anything.

But the undeniable truth is there, standing only a few meters away from you, and nothing on earth will be able to wash away the nerves flooding through your system.

After ten years of radio silence, Min Yoongi is in your orbit once again.

In the grand scheme of things, ten years wasn’t all that long. Four years in university had passed by in a blur, and the absolute chaos that ensued right after you graduated as you scrambled to secure a job and move out of your hometown had made the days seem shorter than they actually were. You had not even noticed that time was passing until you found that cream envelope waiting for you one day after work, your alma mater’s school crest painfully recognizable even after all these years.

During all that time, the world around you shifted without you noticing, and that meant people were changing too.

Yoongi is 28 now. And so are you, after many months of denial. You have not seen each other since you were both 18—both of you far too young to know about any of the things you would experience in the next ten years.

He might have grown a little taller since then, something you are sure that your brother will find amusing. His hair isn’t dyed like you remembered, as he has opted to keep it his natural dark black that you have not seen since you were both in middle school. It’s styled differently too: combed over and gelled back, with his bangs pushed back and his forehead exposed. When he turns his head to the side, a gasp spills past your lips before you can stop it.

“Is that a fucking undercut?” you mutter in shock, your eyes straining out of their sockets as you try to drink him in. Even under the dim lighting of the ballroom, his new haircut is hard to miss. No one else seems to be undergoing the same mental collapse as you, judging by how everyone’s attention is still fixated on the person speaking at the podium. How the hell is no one else losing their fucking minds to the sight of Min Yoongi with a fucking undercut? Some questions are impossible to answer, you surmise.

When you decided to attend the reunion, you had not once thought about how Yoongi would look like. Somehow, you had developed this stagnant picture of him in your head, even after all these years. To you, he will always be the boy with the stark blonde hair, the mismatched eyelids, the pouty lips, the dumpling cheeks. He is the boy who can’t wear his own contact lenses to save his life, the boy who sometimes wears his favorite leather jacket to sleep, the boy who only drinks Americanos like it was water.

Gone are those days, you realize. That image of him has been smashed to pieces, instead replaced by this dashing (and incredibly hot) man—a stranger. A stranger with unbleached (and healthy) hair, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He has his glasses kept away, and there is no leather jacket in sight.

But you can see him, if you look hard enough. The same spark in his eye, the same curve of his lips. You catch him smiling for a second, and his cheeks still puff up like dough. Maybe it’s just hopeless thinking, but you see him. It’s still him. To you, he will always be your 18-year-old Min Yoongi, the one who would greet you with a sweet kiss on the forehead every time you would—

Raucous applause breaks you from your train of thought, and you blink rapidly in surprise. You have to forcibly pull yourself out of your Yoongi-induced trance, clapping alongside everyone without really knowing what was going on. All of the extra noise sounds like buzzing in your ears, especially when it is drowned out by the roar of your blood rushing to your head all at once.

“Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. We will begin the program right after dinner, so please feel free to help yourselves to the buffet! Cheers everyone!” You faintly hear your old schoolmate speak, before her voice is quickly overrun by the commotion of people walking over to the extravagant display of food. It takes a moment for the crowd of heads to disperse, so when you can finally look back to where you last saw Yoongi, he is no longer alone.

Hoseok has his arm slung around Yoongi, his infectious laughter loud enough to be heard over clinking plates and silverware. The two are as different as night and day, with Hoseok practically bouncing from excitement and Yoongi rolling his eyes from annoyance. But it is easy to see that his pout is nothing but a ruse; you can already catch the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your own seams breaking, unwittingly sporting a grin of your own. It is nice to know that Yoongi hasn’t been alone all this time, that he still seems close with his old best friend. You cannot count the number of friendships that you have lost over time, and you still grieve many of them during your quiet moments. Alas, it was often never even anyone’s fault, the strains of adulthood often being the biggest deal breakers in your relationships.

That is, of course, except for one.

“Enjoying yourself? I didn’t think we’d share the same voyeuristic tendencies,” says a voice, creeping up behind you. Now, normal people would not usually expect other sane people to invade your personal space and breathe directly into your ear, but that’s just your humble opinion. What you do know is that one certain individual enjoys breaking the mold when it comes to societal norms, and it is none other than…

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shriek, nearly sucker-punching the offending degenerate in the face. You hold back your fist from connecting with his face, but your resulting irritation remains. Whether that irritation is because you regret holding back or not will unfortunately also have to remain unanswered. “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Oh, no need for that. Most people usually call me Seokjin,” he snickers, thoroughly enjoying your flushed face. Kim Seokjin pats you on the shoulder, his trademark “pretty boy” smile still as radiant as you remembered. It does nothing to quell your urge to raise your fists again, however. “Hello, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here!”

“The feeling is not mutual,” you snort. Much like how Yoongi was with Hoseok, your derision is nothing but a rouse. As much as you want to kick Seokjin in the nuts, you also cannot ignore how much you want to hug him the slimy bastard—but you definitely will not be the first one to admit it. So like the tsundere that you are, you decide to insult him instead. “Why are you here? You’re not even from this class. Don’t you have other things to do? Or rather, people to do?”

“My heart! You wound me,” he gasps, grasping his chest as though he’d been shot. “How could you say that to your best friend in the entire world? Don’t you know how much I missed you?”

“Easy. I do it because the only other alternative would lead me straight to prison,” you shrug, but your grin betrays you.

This time, you don’t jolt away when he closes in for a hug. “And I guess I miss you too,” you say, your words slightly muffled into his chest. Like always, he sees through your prickly act because as much as you like to pretend, Kim Seokjin is kind of amazing—loose bolts and all.

“It’s nice to know that your tongue hasn’t lost its edge, though I suppose I wouldn’t be intimately knowledgeable in that area. After all, I still am very much a raging homosexual and pussy isn’t really my forte,” Seokjin guffaws, his volume causing a few nearby guests to raise their heads in alarm.

You bow at them, sheepishly apologizing on his behalf before grabbing him by the collar.

“Will you stop being embarrassing for just one second? I swear, I thought I retired from my babysitting job when I graduated high school,” you hiss, but the way his mouth curls up with mischief is answer enough. God, you missed this son of a bitch.

“Unfortunately for you, being a pest is part of my DNA,” he smirks, carefully plucking your hands off from his neck, as though your nails were not mere inches away from ripping his trachea into pieces. “Though, I am offended by your assumption that I am still the same slut that you knew. I’ve grown up a little, you know! I’m a changed man!”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you of all people have settled down,” you laugh, not missing the way Seokjin’s perfectly stenciled brow raises slightly.

“I know we haven’t seen each other since Christmas, but come on Y/N! You of all people should be applauding me for my improved behavior! You must have noticed how much I changed when I visited.”

“When you visited me last Christmas, you immediately insulted my taste in kitchen towels, went on Grindr to find a hookup despite my numerous pleas, and promptly desecrated my guest bedroom that no housekeeper or priest is willing to exorcise to this day,” you gag, shuddering at the memory. “And then you ate all my ice cream and proceeded to clog my toilet!”

“Um? Aren’t you forgetting that I also bought you that dress you wanted? Rude,” Seokjin retorts, not the least bit remorseful. “Well, that’s what you get for agreeing to be my best bitch for life. You know that I take pinky promises very seriously.”

Unfortunately, he does take his promises seriously. It is probably the only thing he’ll ever be serious about, as much as the man enjoys parading his depravity. “Okay, whatever. I’ll bite. Who’s the unlucky man you’ve managed to deceive into a relationship?”

“Oh, it’s someone we both used to know. I’m his plus one for tonight,” he says, supplying you with the most useless non-answer imaginable.

“Seokjin. We’re at a high school reunion. We know everyone here. That could be anyone!” you exclaim.

“Well, isn’t that fun? Then we can do a scavenger hunt!” Seokjin grins, clapping his hands together excitedly. He pulls you in front of him, forcing the two of you to survey the crowd. “Okay, hold your arm out like this—” After a few seconds of you failing to resist him, he manages to get you to unfurl your finger as if you were about to order something from the dollar menu at McDonalds. Unfortunately for you, the tall twink is stronger than he appears. “—and just keep pointing around until I tell you that you’re getting warmer!”

“Seokjin, I don’t think this is very—” you start, but Seokjin is already moving your arm for you. Like a hurricane, Kim Seokjin listens to no one but his own homewrecking whims.

“Park Chanyeol? Close, but not really. You should know that I don’t double dip with past flings,” he says, shifting you to the left. “Kim Namjoon? Now that’s a hunk of meat that I wish I’d taken a bite of, but unfortunately he’s as straight as a ruler. Pass,” he hums, continuing to move you bit by bit.

You’re both getting uncomfortably close to where Yoongi is, and Seokjin doesn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. You did notice that Yoongi had come dateless to the reunion (a fact, by the way, that you did not rejoice over when you had noticed), but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s single. You have known Seokjin for more than a decade at this point, and despite your odd friendship, you are sure that he would never do anything to hurt you on purpose.

Though, that does beg the question… How far does his dick thirst really go? Maybe you’ll finally find out today.

“Warmer, getting warmer…” Seokjin inches you closer and closer to where Yoongi is standing. You feel frozen in his grasp, unsure if you wanted to know anymore. If Seokjin really is dating Yoongi, then what? It’s not like you were dating him anyway… What difference does it make if it’s Seokjin?

(It makes all the difference, but you refuse to think about it.)

“Nope, not Wonho... A little bit to the left… Bingo!” Seokjin declares, stopping your finger right on— “No, Y/N! Stop moving! You’ve gone too far to the wall! I was pointing at him.”

“H-Hoseok? You’re dating Hoseok?!” You squeak, an avalanche of relief flooding through you. You don’t even have the energy to pretend to be composed as your entire body starts untensing involuntarily, your shoulders slumping as though a weight has been lifted from you. “Why couldn’t you have just told me like a normal person? Why must everything be tortuous and dramatic when it comes to you?”

“I am a naturally insufferable and theatrical person. Sue me,” he shrugs, greatly enjoying the exhausted look on your face. “What? Were you actually scared that I was dating your sloppy seconds? What do you think I am? An asshole?”

You stare at him. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Seokjin scoffs. “If I wanted to get roasted, I would approach two tops at a gay bar.” He pauses. “Wait, are you seriously not going to congratulate me for finally snagging a boy who has a functioning moral compass?”

“Define ‘snagging.’ Did you, like, tie him up and blackmail him to become your boyfriend like those terrible One Direction Wattpad fanfics, or—” You stop halfway, giggling at your friend’s unamused pout. “Okay, okay. Yes, Seokjin. I am very proud of you. Congrats on finally becoming an adult. Your hoe days are over.”

“Who said they were over?” He snorts. Noticing your alarm, Seokjin rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I’m not into infidelity and you know that. I just meant that I’m still a hoe with significantly fewer options.”

“How did that even happen in the first place?” you say, jabbing your thumb in Hoseok’s direction. Thankfully, the man in question is still busy talking to Yoongi, though you don’t know for how much longer. If Seokjin isn’t lying, then there’s a high chance they’re going to walk over to say hi and you’re not sure if you’re mentally prepared to go through the five stages of grief all over again.

“Believe me, I’m surprised as well. I started dating Hoseok after he asked me for help with his sister’s wedding gift. He asked me to help arrange an itinerary for her sister’s honeymoon in America,” Seokjin explains with a dreamy smile. He sighs, holding a hand up to his chest. You can physically see the heart emojis circling his head like a halo. “We hit it off from there and dare I say… Not only is he the only person who can keep up with my high maintenance lifestyle, but dear Lord, he could totally be recruited into the NDA for his astounding dick game—”

“Ever heard of TMI? Gross,” you interrupt, your face crumpling in disgust. You shove him away when his loud cackles start rattling your eardrums.

“You were scared though, right?” he says through his giggles. “When you thought that I was dating Yoongi?”

Of course Seokjin had noticed your mini-mental breakdown, judging from the shit-eating grin on his face.

“N-no,” you stutter, but your heated cheeks and averted gaze give you away. “E-either way, I wouldn’t have cared if you did!” you say. You know, like a liar.

“I bet you don’t care that Yoongi got significantly hotter in the past ten years too, huh?” Seokjin teases, snickering loudly. Under the harsh lighting of the fluorescent chandelier lights, you might have mistaken the boy in front of you for the devil instead of your best friend of almost twenty years.

“I sincerely rue the day I introduced myself to you in the third grade,” you hiss, sipping from your cup to hide your humiliation.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re all embarrassed,” Seokjin coos, pinching your cheeks with the gentleness of an ape. You slap his hand away, unable to think of any retort.

“Cat got your tongue? You didn’t even deny it when I accused you,” Seokjin laughs. He claps his hands jovially, acting as though he’s enjoying a show at the circus. Given your performance tonight, that statement isn’t all that far from reality.

“I don’t need to defend myself from you,” you say, puffing your cheeks indignantly. “I just… think he looks handsome. Is that illegal or something?”

“Certainly not. Though, you might want to dial down the pining a teensy bit,” he singsongs. “That’s how I found you in the first place. I sensed your pining from a mile away and came as soon as I could!”

“I wasn’t pining!” you exclaim. “I was just… admiring the plant beside him.”

“Right, sure,” Seokjin says, arching an eyebrow in challenge. You feel your hackles rising at his smug expression, your ‘Seokjin-is-about-to-ruin-your-life’ alarm ringing in your ears. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I brought you over there to say hello? After all, my boyfriend is over there and as much as I enjoy pestering you, I also want to be with him very much.”

You whistle lowly, impressed. “Wow, that’s actually kind of sweet of you.”

“Yes, I know. Kim Seokjin’s heart grew three sizes that day, yada yada yada.” Seokjin says sarcastically, but his lovesick smile ruins the effect. When he opens his mouth once more, the mirage instantly disappears. “But you would understand if you saw how much he’s packing—”

“Shut up, I didn’t ask—”

“Fine, then let’s ask the man himself! Besides, you know you’re being ridiculous, right?” Seokjin tuts, annoyed. He fixes you with a glare, making you feel like a scolded child. “It’s just Yoongi. You and I both know he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and probably would love to see you after so long.”

You wave your hands around helplessly, almost sloshing your drink onto a nearby bystander. After muttering a meek apology at your harried classmate, you turn back to Seokjin with a defeated sigh.

You know that he’s right, and you absolutely hate him for it. “Jinnie, I’m a mess! I can hardly think with Yoongi standing meters away from me, much less if he were to stand right in front of me! I’m just going to embarrass myself,” you lament, holding your head in your hand.

“That’s true. You will definitely embarrass yourself,” Seokjin hums, nodding sagely. He shrugs his shoulders. “All the more reason we should do it. Relax, I’ll be your wingman like old times! All we have to do is remind him of all the fantastic, mind-blowing coitus you had in your youth and he’ll be a goner for sure.”

“If by goner, you mean he’ll be gone from my life permanently this time, then you’re right,” you groan. You have a half a mind to dump the remainder of your disgusting punch all over his expensive Bottega Veneta coat, though you also don’t want to spend the next three months receiving packaged turds from Seokjin in your mailbox. “Please, just let me suffer in silence for the remainder of the night, okay? Is that really too much to ask?”

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look of who’s coming over to say hello!”

Swiveling around, you see that your intuition is right: Yoongi and Hoseok are swiftly making their way through the crowd, one of them appearing to be more enthusiastic than the other. You swallow thickly, your palms growing damp as they get closer to where the two of you stand.

"Seokjin, we gotta go!" you hiss, but your panic goes largely ignored as your best friend leaves you to envelop his lover in a dramatic embrace.

The two men exchange teary and heartfelt touches, acting as if they had been separated by years of war instead of the meager minutes they had spent apart to greet their long-time friends.

"My honeybunch! Oh, how I've missed you so much!" Seokjin cries, nuzzling his nose into Hoseok's neck. You might have mistaken him for a vampire with how aggressively he sniffs Hoseok's skin. Had Seokjin been 5% more unhinged, you do not doubt that he might have started suckling on his boyfriend like a leech.

"Oh, hyung. It's barely been an hour, but why does it feel like it has been forever?" Hoseok sighs forlornly, jaw clenching as though he's in pain. He croaks out a sob, lifting Seokjin in the air and spinning him around. "My love, let us never part again!"

You take a few steps away from them, trying to make it apparent to all the bewildered onlookers that you have nothing to do with homosexual Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

"What kind of shitty production is this? I want my money back," you murmur, fake-gagging behind the two of them. The lovesick fools pay no mind to your disgust; in fact, they seem to relish in it. Their efforts double, their theatrical kissy-smoochy sound effects causing goosebumps to form on your arms. "Seriously, I've had enough of this and I've only been forced to witness it for two seconds."

"Tell me about it," says a voice to your left. Startled, you nearly let out a shocked gasp when you realize that Yoongi had found his way by your side, his own disgusted gaze fixed on the bumbling buffoons still lost in their world. He glances at you for a second, quirking his lips into a small smile. "Hey, Y/N."

In just six words, Min Yoongi manages to make time grind to a halt. You gape at him, your brain ceasing in function. It takes you a full minute to realize that the man standing beside you is not a figment of your imagination. You had been so caught up in the absurdity of the situation that for a moment you had forgotten that Yoongi is a real person.

It's Yoongi, your first love. The person you haven't seen or spoken to in years. The man who has haunted your dreams for over a decade. He's standing right beside you, and he's smiling at you. He's here, he's hot, and he's saying hello.

Like the incredibly eloquent and profound person that you are, you reply: "Yellow!"

You had meant to say "Yoongi, hello!" like a normal person, but your brain had amalgamated your words during its rebooting process. And so, you are left standing there silently, frozen by your embarrassment. You swear you can hear a pin drop as you beg for the earth to swallow you whole.

Unfortunately for you, the floor remains painfully tangible beneath your feet, forcing you to clear your throat and expound on your mystifying exclamation. Yoongi watches you with curious eyes, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"W-what I meant to say is, uh," you stammer, your cheeks heating up to an alarming degree. "Those yellow streamers are pretty tacky, don't you think?"

Nice one. In terms of comebacks, you would personally give yourself a C for effort. (Note: C stands for "Can I please shove a fist up my ass and crabwalk the fuck out of here?")

Yoongi contemplates the tacky decorations in question, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. They pretty much look like the stuff we'd make in elementary school during Arts and Crafts." He points to your mutual friends, grimacing in annoyance. "Them, on the other hand? No child should ever come into contact with those heathens."

"You're right," you snort, shaking your head.

There is a long and awkward pause. Yoongi clears his throat, swaying from side to side while staring at his shoes. You aren't any better, twiddling your thumbs as you will your cheeks to stop flushing. Your senses are practically screaming at you to run away and hide forever, but your limbs feel disjointed from the rest of you.

It's like we're at the zoo on a date and the monkeys won't stop fucking each other, your mind unhelpfully supplies, offering you an image that will permanently make its home on the backs of your eyelids.

Desperate to break the silence, eventually you say, "Hey, Yoongi—"

Right at the same time, Yoongi says, "Hey, Y/N—"

Another pause, but this one is slightly less tense. The two of you share a nervous laugh, though yours sounds a little bit more hysterical. You motion for him to speak first.

"I, uh... wanted to say that you look great. Yeah. Like, you haven't aged a day at all. N-not to say that I don't think you've matured or..." Yoongi stumbles over his words, his voice cracking.

Instead of feeling relieved that he's just as nervous as you, his anxiety only exacerbates your own. There's a reason you have never been good at public speaking, and this is a good example of why:

"No! I get what you mean, don't worry about it," you laugh, on the verge of a mental breakdown. What the fuck is this conversation, even? "You look exactly the same too. Umm... Of course, except for the, uh, hair?"

"Oh, you mean the gray hairs?"

"No, no! Of course not! I m-meant your hair looks really hot—I mean good! It looks GOOD," you repeat, frantically emphasizing the last bit. You had instinctively panicked, your voice rising in pitch.  If your cheeks weren't flaming hot already, then they're definitely redder than Seokjin's ass after a Friday night of fun.

The apples of Yoongi's cheek match your own flustered state, though you can imagine that you’re probably at least a hundred times worse. “Well, thank you. I was actually feeling self-conscious about my hair, so hearing that from you is really… nice,” he says, brushing his hair shyly. “I’m kinda done with bright colored hair for now, so seeing my hair in its natural state is still kind of weird.”

“I seriously doubt that Y/N was talking about your hair color, Yoongi,” Hoseok interjects, magically reappearing behind you when you don’t notice. You flinch in surprise, causing him to let out a hearty chuckle at your jumpiness. It seems that today is “Let’s scare the living shit out of Y/N” day with how many people have crept up on you in just one night.

Beside him, Seokjin looks like a bomb ready to explode, his fist jammed up his mouth to keep his guffaws from slipping out. “God, this is even better than the cringe compilations I watch on Youtube,” he wheezes, wiping a stray tear.

“Don’t be so mean to them, hyung! Don’t mind him,” Hoseok says to you, bowing apologetically. He smiles cherubically at Yoongi. “See, Yoongi? I told you that Y/N is even hotter up close!”

“God, fucking kill me,” you hear Yoongi groan.

“So, have you guys caught up yet, or have you just been fumbling around each other like a couple of horny teenagers?” Seokjin snickers, narrowly avoiding your heel stomping his foot.

“We’ve only just said hello. Leave us alone, jackass,” you huff.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, Hoseok and I can go on our merry ways if you wish—”

“Yoongi! Did you tell Y/N about your work back in Seoul? I bet she’d love to hear about it,” Hoseok interrupts smoothly, saving you from further embarrassment (courtesy of his infuriating goblin of a boyfriend.)

You blink in surprise, turning to the man in question. “You live in Seoul now? Did you move there after finishing university?” you ask.

“Well,” Yoongi starts, clearing his throat. He’s permanently pink at this point, not that you mind in the slightest. He always did have the cutest blush (and once upon a time, you used to love teasing him about it.) “I sort of dropped out of university early. Decided it wasn’t really my thing, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Yoongi. You were a fantastic student. I’m sure Y/N remembers how smart you are,” Hoseok says, winking inconspicuously at you.

You force out a laugh in response. You know perfectly well what he was trying to do; Hoseok isn’t slick in the slightest, though you do admit that you are intrigued to find out what Yoongi had done over the years.

It isn’t like you haven’t been keeping tabs on him. In your defense, it’s hard to stay away from news about Yoongi when he’s such a big deal. So what if you’ve watched a couple of his interviews and streamed all of his songs? He’s always been talented with music, and all the radio shows seem to agree. You couldn��t get away from him if you tried (and it’s not like you were trying very hard, anyway.)

Yoongi shrugs, rubbing his neck bashfully. “E-either way, I decided to tough it out, you know? Follow my dreams and all that, even if it nearly killed me.”

“And now, he’s working in a famous idol company as one of their head producers,” Hoseok finishes for him, chest puffing up in pride. He slaps his best friend on the back, not noticing that he had inadvertently caused Yoongi's spine to cave in from his strength. “Yoongi is so cool, and humble too! He’s been working behind the scenes for a bunch of big names and never got greedy for attention even though he totally deserves it.”

“Damn, so no street cred? Bit schewpid, innit? Imagine all the chicks you could’ve landed, bruv!” Seokjin says, imitating a terrible British accent. You make a move to hit him in the groin, but for once, Hoseok beats you to the punch.

“Nope! Yoongi-chi is super single, aren’t you?” Hoseok says with a sweet grin, ignoring the pained groans of his lover on the floor.

“No need to rub it in, Seok-ah,” Yoongi grumbles defensively. He coughs into his fist, grinding his foot into the floor. He throws a glance your way. “Just been… too busy, I guess.”

From the floor, Seokjin holds up a hand, grasping at Hoseok’s pant leg to hoist himself up. “What a coincidence. Y/N is super single too. In fact, her pussy is so dry that there’d be no chance for any yeast infections to develop—WAIT, DON’T HIT ME AGAIN I PROMISE I’LL BEHAVE!” Seokjin is on his knees, holding his arms up in surrender as Hoseok’s boot is about to connect with his stomach.

“I know I said I was into BDSM, but not like this!” Seokjin says, faking a sob.

“Then behave, darling,” Hoseok replies, eyes lighting dangerously. When he returns his attention to you, you and Yoongi back away instinctively. “Sorry about him. We have an… arrangement,” he says, waving his hands vaguely.

“Understood,” you both say, not understanding but also not wanting to.

Seokjin manages to straighten up eventually, his skin slightly paler than it was before. “A-as I was saying,” he exhales, still gingerly cupping his crotch. “Y/N has been single for so long, but I don’t blame her. Not after that awful disaster of a boyfriend, right? God, Sungjae fucking sucked ass, and not even in the sexy way.”

“Um, yeah…” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact. You can feel Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s eyes trained on you, but you’re not confident enough to know that you can keep your face neutral.

With your gaze averted, you don’t notice the way Yoongi’s posture tenses. “Is that so,” he says carefully.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hoseok says. You can hear the genuine sadness in his tone, and you chance a peek at him. He pats your shoulder gently, giving you a soft smile. “Honestly, I feel you. I’ve definitely been there, done that. That’s why I’m grateful for Seokjin-hyung, believe it or not. He’s been really good for me.”

“Hah, I told you I’m a good person!” Seokjin says. Again, he goes ignored.

“It’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge,” you say, shrugging. You can still feel Yoongi’s persistent gaze on the side of your head like a brand. You’re kind of afraid to see what sort of expression he has despite the curiosity burning inside of you.

You are still in the middle of debating if it’s worth explaining or not (and to a lesser extent, why you feel like you need to explain yourself to anyone), everyone’s attention is caught by the onslaught of waiters bringing in a fresh batch of food to the buffet. Your stomach growls in response, and you are reminded of the fact that you haven’t eaten since breakfast in preparation for tonight’s event.

“Hold that thought, Y/N,” Hoseok says, holding up a finger. “Hyung! I saw a platter of tuna belly and I know that shit is gonna disappear in two seconds. Let’s head out!” He tugs Seokjin in a hurry, the elder’s gangly legs flying about as he trips over himself to keep up. Seokjin yelps and hollers for him to slow down, but the hangry Hoseok train stops for no one. They run off, leaving Hoseok-and-Seokjin-shaped dust clouds in their wakes.

“Wow,” Yoongi says, dumbfounded. “Did we just get ditched by our two self-proclaimed best friends in the world?”

You nod, equally dumbfounded. “I guess we did.”

He shakes his head. “Fucking traitors.”

And just like that, the conversation dies.

Without your friends acting as buffers, the pair of you return to your painfully awkward states. You rack your brain for a conversation topic, anything to keep the tension at bay. You don’t feel nearly comfortable enough to ask him about his love life, even though you want nothing more than to shake the details right out of him. For perfectly sane reasons, of course.

Lucky for you, Yoongi thinks of a solution. “Um, I guess we should go grab our food as well? I’m assuming we’ll be sitting together since our friends are... you know. Unless you don’t want to, then that’s also perfectly fine with me. I can find somewhere else to sit.”

“I’d love to sit with you,” you say, cringing at your choice of words. Love to? What are you, desperate?! your brain screeches at you, and you mentally beat yourself in the coochie.

Deep down, you know that you’re overreacting, but you can’t help acting like a blushy teenager talking to your crush when you’re around Yoongi. It’s almost as if you’ve reverted to your high school days, back when you’d both started to notice your feelings for each other and the steady flow of butterflies erupting in your stomach had felt less like a burden and more like a revelation.

After tossing your disgusting drink into a nearby bin, you and Yoongi line up behind the rest of your classmates for the buffet, the scene reminiscent of having lunch at your old high school cafeteria. You’re still mildly distracted by Yoongi’s proximity, not looking at what food you were getting and randomly scooping and hoping you don’t dislike all of them.

From the corner of your eye, you notice that Yoongi’s plate is steadily piling up, probably with enough food to feed two people. You’ve never known Yoongi to be much of a heavy eater, but you suppose that free food is still free food at the end of the day.

“So,” Yoongi says after a beat. He pulls you from your trance, and you catch the small smile on his face that tells you that he figured you had been distracted. “How is Jungkook, by the way? He graduated from university a year ago or something, right?”

You pause, your hand stilling on the metal tongs. “How did you know he graduated last year?”

He shrugs. “Well, assuming that he didn’t take any gap years, I did the math and figured he should be at the age where he’s looking for a job.” He turns to you with a sly grin. “Plus, I’m still his friend on Facebook.”

“That’s surprising,” you comment. You backtrack a little, “And I mean it’s surprising in the sense that… All his posts are reshares from dank meme pages and I thought you wouldn’t be into that.”

Yoongi laughs. “I’m not. But… it’s nice to know how things are back home, I guess.”

Do you wonder about me, too? you think, but you internally shake your head. But why would he? He doesn’t owe you anything.

“And your dad? I heard he got hip surgery last fall,” Yoongi says.

“Wait, Jungkook has been posting about our dad’s surgery on his Facebook?”

“Oh! No, not exactly.” Yoongi clears his throat, suddenly nervous. He heaps a big portion of kimchi, some of it staining his sleeve. “I… called him a few days ago, to catch up.”

You’re staring at him, and you dimly register the people lined up behind you huffing impatiently. “You… called him? You have his cell number, too?”

“No, I just… happen to still have your home telephone number memorized and hoped that you guys hadn’t moved,” he says, a little guiltily.

You’re silent for a moment, thoughtlessly scooping more bean sprouts onto your plate than any sane person would be comfortable eating. The two of you inch along the buffet display as you attempt to process his sudden confession.

On one hand, you’re slightly betrayed that your own brother hadn’t thought to mention that your ex had called him, but on the other hand, what would you have done if he did? Ask if you could say hello? The Y/N from last month probably would have laughed if she had known that Min Yoongi still cared enough to call and check on her family, much less have her landline memorized even after all these years.

He still cared.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, your heart skips a beat at the thought. You cradle a hand to your chest, urging your nerves to quell. Keep it together, you beg your stupid, naive heart. You can survive one night without falling in love again, can’t you?

...can you?

“I…” you stammer. You swallow thickly, desperate for something to say, anything to stop your mind from going in the wrong direction. “They miss you, you know? You have no idea how many times my parents ask if you’re coming home for Christmas, or—I don’t know.”

“Yeah, my parents are the same. They always wanna know if I’m coming home for the holidays, and they,” he hesitates, swallowing thickly, “They always ask about you, too.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you mutter lamely. Your cheeks feel like they’ve been lit on fire the moment you got here, and you haven’t even visited the bar yet.

You finally make it to the end of the long buffet table where there is a large chocolate fountain just begging for you to ravage if only your stomach wasn’t besieged by butterflies. Yoongi glances at you, his own hands too full to get any desserts, but he still pauses as if he’s waiting for you. When you make it apparent you aren’t interested in the mouthwatering cakes and pastries (a big fat lie, but you also don’t want to vomit in front of him and your hundreds of schoolmates), he raises a brow as though he’s surprised.

“What? I’m not that much of a sweet tooth,” you scoff.

“This is coming from the girl who broke into her little brother’s piggy bank to buy some ice cream from a passing street vendor?” he teases.

“That’s the old me. Now, I make enough money to buy my own sweets,” you say smugly.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.” If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he looked endeared.

The pair of you search for Hoseok and Seokjin, only to find that the couple had somehow found a table for all of you somewhere near the back. With one last longing glance at the wondrous chocolate fountain, you walk away with Yoongi in tow. You have to push through throngs of people, a few old familiar faces stopping to say hello before they notice the precarious situation on Yoongi’s plate and let you through. You wave at them, promising to greet them later before turning to Yoongi.

“Isn’t it kind of weird to see all these people again? Not gonna lie, it’s almost hard to recognize a few of them.” You note some of the crazy hair colors and drastic fashion choices that you never thought you’d see a decade ago. An even stranger sight, however, is the occasional schoolmates with little ones attached to their hips. You recognize one of the new parents, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Wait, is that Seulgi? And is that her—”

“Her son? Jesus Christ,” Yoongi mutters, equally as bewildered as you. “Damn, I did not expect her of all people to be one of the first to have a kid. I’d always thought it’d be Sooyoung.”

You nod in agreement. You observe the little boy tug roughly at her skirt, his tiny fists making grabbing motions at the cookies on her plate. “Yeah. I always thought I’d have a kid before Seulgi, at least. What a surprise.”

You speak before you think, and it takes longer than it should have for you to realize your mistake. By then, Yoongi’s expression had already morphed into astonishment, his eyes bugging out as he chokes on his spit.

Your cheeks are burning, your mouth opening and closing as pure panic seizes you. You cannot believe that you just said that! No fucking way! Did you eat lube this morning or something? Why are words just spilling out of your mouth at an unprecedented rate?! You’re begging your brain to come up with something, anything, to control the damage, but alas your thoughts remain resolutely frozen.

If aliens were to choose to study the human race right now, they’d be sorely disappointed to find the lack of intelligent lifeforms. No complex thoughts going on over here! Not one goddamn neuron firing in this bitch!

“O-oh, well, that’s…” he trails off. He clears his throat, his jaw clenched as he awkwardly tries to feign composure. “I didn’t know you were, um, interested? Well, n-not that I think you were averse to the idea of having kids, since I remember you mentioning it when we were, um,” he pauses, struggling to find a word other than dating, or together, or in love, or not painstakingly careful around each other, like every conversation topic was a fucking minefield.

“Younger?” you supply. A safe, neutral word. Yay for you! You deserve a snack from your animal care keeper right about now.

“Right,” he nods. He looks down at his shoes, revealing his flushed neck. He’s frustratingly adorable like this, but it does nothing except distract you. “Were you, um, planning on having a kid with your ex-boyfriend? Before you broke up?”

Ex-boyfriend? Why is he bringing him up all of a sudden? You stare at him in confusion for half a second before realization strikes you. Thankfully (or unthankfully), it seems that Yoongi misunderstands the implication behind your words and has taken your little slip-up the wrong way. For once, you are so thankful that Yoongi almost failed Math during the 10th grade and never learned to put two and two together.

“Definitely not,” you bark out a laugh, but it sounds incredibly forced, even to your own ears. You stare at the plate of food in your hands, a wave of unpleasant memories washing over you. “I doubt he’d ever want kids, anyway. Seokjin used to make fun of him and call him the world’s biggest toddler.”

Yoongi winces, his brow furrowing. “How long were you together?”

“Like, two years?” You shrug. “It felt longer, to be honest. Even if we dated for so long, I could never imagine myself having a family with him,” you say.

It was almost the truth, but not quite. While your ex-boyfriend had undoubtedly been a pain in your ass, he wasn’t completely bad, especially in the beginning. You had enough self-respect that you would have ended the relationship earlier if he didn’t have any redeeming qualities. The main problem was that he had a tough act to follow, and you don’t think any man on earth would be able to live up to your lofty expectations at this point, not when you’d constantly be comparing everyone to—

Yoongi speaks up again. “Seokjin seems to really dislike him. Was he really that bad?”

“Seokjin has never really liked any of my past flings,” you admit, rolling your eyes. (You fail to mention that Yoongi has always been the only exception.) “Despite his own disgustingly high body count, I can’t say he was wrong. Sungjae was a self-centered prick who never gave me the time of day. Hell, I was almost thankful when I caught him cheating. It was the final push I needed.”

Even though it’s been so long, the pain of seeing your ex-boyfriend locking lips with a stranger he had randomly picked up from the street still throbs inside of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly sad or surprised to find out, but you’d always been a bit sensitive to people who kept secrets from you. Plus, it kinda sucked to know that they had fucked on your favorite Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Fucking bastard. If I ever saw him in person, I’d definitely kick his nuts ‘til he’s left with a concave crotch,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

You laugh. You have to confess that the mental image is satisfying. “You don’t even know what he looks like though!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure Seokjin would tell me if I asked,” he huffs. He mutters something else after, but his volume drops to a whisper and you have to step closer to properly hear him.

“What? Sorry, I missed that,” you say, but you could have sworn he said something like “I wouldn’t have done that if it were me” but you couldn’t be completely sure.

“N-nothing,” he stutters, waving off your confusion. He tacks on a smile, but you can tell that he must have been embarrassed by whatever he’d said. If it was anything like what you thought he’d said, then you could understand. It wasn’t like he was wrong, anyway.

He makes a move to rub the back of his neck, but he greatly underestimates the weight of his platter and nearly drops everything. Something deep inside of you kicks in, and your body instinctively moves to hold his plate with your free hand, saving him from a very messy situation. However, that also means that your hands are now touching each other, your fingertips grazing his knuckles.

Instead of letting him go like a normal person, your ape brain makes the first move (as per usual).

“Your hands are still cold,” you say dumbly. You had wanted to say more, like “your hands are still as cold as they were from when we were younger,” but bringing up your past together, even for something so harmless, still feels taboo. You keep your hands where they are, your eyes locked on his. It feels like you’re in the middle of a dramatic TV show while I Will Go To You by Ailee plays in the background. You can almost imagine the numerous ads for random Korean cosmetic products framing the two of you in slow motion.

Yoongi chuckles, reluctantly pulling away from you. You already miss the sensation of his skin on yours. “I guess some things never change, huh?” he says, wavering slightly. He stares at you for another moment before shaking his head, as though he’s pushing away some unwelcome thoughts. He turns away, leaving you behind to make his way to your table.

Despite the unbidden emotions bubbling up your throat and threatening to spill over, you have no choice but to follow.

At the table, Seokjin and Hoseok speak mutely with each other, though the exaggerated expressions on both their faces tell you that they had been in the middle of an argument. When Yoongi takes his place beside Hoseok, the couple pauses in their bickering to greet you.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi’s overflowing plate. “Dude. I know I teased you about being a skinny twig a while ago, but I wasn’t implying that you gorge yourself.”

Yoongi jolts in surprise before staring back at his plate. Weirdly enough, he looks just as shocked as Hoseok to find the amount of food he had gotten, as though he hadn’t even noticed.

Perhaps he was just as distracted as you had been? you think, staring at your own meager pickings. Oops, you definitely didn’t get enough food to fill your ravenous appetite.

“That’s fine. I can share with you guys,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin peers at your plate, smirking knowingly. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Y/N would love to get some of your food. It seems like the two of you either over or underestimated how much you’d eat.”

“Aww, cute!” Hoseok coos, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. “You still have the habit of getting food for her. That’s so sweet that you still remember that about her!”

You had been in the middle of taking a swig of your water, but Hoseok’s comment nearly causes it to spew out from your nose. You cough harshly, beating your chest as your nose burns, among other things.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi scolds. He hits his friend on the shoulder, but Hoseok’s giggles refuse to stop.

“Oh shit, you’re totally right! Remember all those times when either one of us was forced to third-wheel with them?” Seokjin guffaws. “Y/N always orders something gross whenever we eat out together, and Yoongi ends up having to share half of his food with her when she starts moping.”

“I did not mope!” you retort vehemently.

“You kind of did,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, but you catch him this time.

You cross your arms, scowling. “Did not!”

Yoongi covers his mouth to fake a cough, but you can tell he’s smiling from how his eyes start to crinkle.

“You guys are so cute,” Hoseok sighs, squeezing Yoongi into a hug. Yoongi paws at him weakly, but you know that he enjoys skinship too much to push his friend away.  Still, he pouts cutely, his cheeks puffing up like a pastry.

“Anyway, why were you guys arguing a while ago?” Yoongi asks, changing the subject. “Seokjin-hyung is kinda red in the face.”

“Oh, we weren’t really arguing. Hyung had gotten some wine from the bar but he forgot to get me some,” Hoseok says. He glares sharply at Seokjin. “Bastard.”

“You just said we weren’t fighting!” Seokjin whines. He stands up, raising his arms in surrender. “But fine! I’ll go get your damn wine,” he sulks, groaning when he stretches his back and a few worrisome pops resound from his joints.

“Damn, hyung. I know I told you that I hope you grow up well when we were kids, but I didn’t think you’d take it that literally,” Yoongi jokes, earning a sharp laugh from you. Yoongi glances at you then, visibly proud when he catches the wide grin on your face.

Seokjin gasps, offended. “I am not old! I’m literally a year older than you guys! And here I was, about to get you both drinks as well! It sucks to be the nice one in a friend group,” he sniffs.

“Yes, we are eternally grateful for your service,” Hoseok says sarcastically. “Oh, and remember to get some drinks for Y/N and Yoongi-chi too!” Hoseok adds, slamming his palm on Seokjin’s sore back.

Seokjin yelps, before biting his lip. “Owwie, that hurt,” he moans, winking salaciously.

As the closest person to him, you make it your right to jam your heeled foot onto his gelatinous and push away with a shout of disgust. “Leave, wench!” you snarl, but you’re unfortunately drowned out by his cackling. Even so, he does make his leave, affording your table some level of peace.

“So,” Hoseok starts, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He cradles his chin with his hands, smiling innocuously at the two of you. “How’s it goin’? Are you both having fun?” he says, laced with meaning.

Ah, you had forgotten; peace was never an option.

Though he is undoubtedly less annoying than Seokjin, you still don’t trust the way he’s staring at you, like he’s waiting for one of you to jump into the other’s lap and recreate his favorite porn scene.

(A terrible thought to have, especially when you’d probably be as begrudging as you should be if you were swayed sufficiently.)

“It’s going fine, thank you very much,” Yoongi responds, giving his best friend a stern look.

You nod wordlessly, unable to trust yourself to keep from stammering and making your frayed nerves apparent (if they aren’t already.) You grab your glass and busy yourself with your drink to delay answering.

You don’t notice that you had taken Yoongi’s cup by accident until you’ve already gulped a third of his water, dropping it with a loud clunk. “Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to drink from yours,” you say sheepishly.

Yoongi smiles at your concern. “No worries. It’s just a cup.”

“Sharing cups too? Damn, what happened while Seokjin and I were away?” Hoseok laughs. Yoongi flicks him lightly on the wrist in retaliation.

“It’s just a cup,” he repeats before turning to you. “Sorry, I think he’s a bit drunk.”

“Haven’t had a single drop of alcohol but whatever,” Hoseok says, shoveling a large piece of tuna belly into his mouth.

The sight of him eating reminds you of your own hunger, your food slightly colder now after talking to Yoongi and your friends for so long. You take a spoonful of chicken, the taste not terrible but not as good as you would like. Your face must give your disappointment away because you hear Yoongi chuckling beside you.

“Bad food again? Guess you really are the same,” Yoongi says, low enough that Hoseok wouldn’t hear. He pushes his plate towards you, carefully nudging some of his bulgogi onto yours. “This tastes kind of sweet, so I’m not really into it. But you prefer it sweeter right?”

All you can do is nod in agreement, watching as he piles your plate with his food. His sleeves, which had already been stained previously by some stray bits of kimchi, become even more saturated with sauces and oils. Now that you see it up close, his sleeves seem a bit too long for him, his palms half covered like sweater paws.  

Without thinking too hard, you place your hands over Yoongi’s wrists, his entire body freezing as he waits for what you will do. Gently, as though you’re approaching a frightened kitten, you fold his sleeves until they’re no longer dangling into his food. The gesture is more intimate than you had intended, his proximity allowing you to smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne.

Paco Rabanne, your mind reminds you. Of course.

You pull away, trying your best to appear as unfazed as possible. You clench your hands and dig your nails into your skin to keep them from trembling. “If I’m the same, you’re no better. You always used to forget to pull back your sleeves before eating.”

After a beat, Yoongi returns from his stupor, licking his lips. “My hands were cold,” he explains.

“I know.” You lick your lips too, suddenly parched despite all the water you have drunk.

A forgotten treasure trove of memories resurrects inside of you, things that you had thought had been buried too deep for you to find again. You are filled with this odd feeling, an awareness. An old wound has resurfaced, one that you thought had healed long ago.

That wound throbs, still.

It’s so strange, being with him like this. A piece of your past that has come to your present, both the same and different as you remember. He knows parts of you that no one else will, as do you with him. But those parts were only ever supposed to stay buried: memories, after all, aren’t supposed to be tangible.

And yet, here he stands: real, alive, close.

It leaves you feeling emptier than before.

The atmosphere grows somber after that, neither of you offering much to the conversation. Hoseok is more than happy to pick up the slack, filling the stark silence along with the occasional hums from Yoongi. When Seokjin returns, he makes no note of the change in mood and focuses more on eating and talking with his partner. It allows the two of you to remain deep in thought.

You are pushing your remaining bits of food around your plate when the soft instrumental music playing on the overhead speaker stops abruptly, and the sound of a microphone being tapped prompts everyone to turn to the front of the ballroom. The host of the event announces that the next part of the reunion will begin shortly and encourages all the performers to head to the sound booth to prepare. A couple of your schoolmates rise from their seats, most of whom were the students you remembered being part of choir or band.

You half-expect Yoongi to stand up as well, but he stays rooted to the spot. Apparently, Hoseok is wondering the same thing.

“Yoongi? Didn’t you say that the organizers asked you to perform some of your songs?” Hoseok questions.

“They did.”

“But?”

Yoongi brings his fingers to his teeth, biting on them anxiously. Your hand makes a move to pull them away, but you think better of it. No need to supply your friends with more teasing ammunition. “But I changed my mind last minute. I felt kind of embarrassed to be performing my own songs. I’m more of a producer, not a performer.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Yoongi. You’re poggers, as the kids like to say,” Seokjin pipes up.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but he’s right. A lot of people like your music and think you’re a great performer,” you assure him. “And I like your music, too,” you add shyly.

Yoongi’s hand drops from his mouth, eyes glittering with disbelief. He looks like he wants to disagree with you, but eventually decides to just smile in gratitude. “I didn’t know you listened to my music,” he says quietly.

Before you can reply, Seokjin chooses to interrupt with his migraine-inducing cackle and ruin the moment (as he is prone to do.) “Oh bitch! If you only knew how much this girl loves your music. She even buys your physical CDs AND collects your photocards.”

“I do not!” You scream, flinging a piece of bread at his head. You refuse to peek at Yoongi.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I collect his photocards too. Wanna trade sometime? I’m missing the one when he still had mint hair,” Hoseok giggles.

“Will the two of you stop? God, it’s like you both had been planning to embarrass us as much as possible,” Yoongi exclaims, incensed.

When neither of them responds, you and Yoongi whip your heads towards them only to find two self-satisfied, smirking shitheads.

“Why watch reality shows when you can make your own?” Seokjin says in lieu of an answer, pointing finger guns. He blows you a kiss with a wink.

You clutch your chest, pretending to wince in pain. “Augh! Poison damage!”

Seokjin scoffs. “Swagever, man. You’re just mad because you’re angry,” he retorts, sticking out his tongue.

While you were occupied bickering with Seokjin, you had not seen that one of your old schoolmates had invited herself to your table. She sandwiches herself in the space between you and Yoongi, bumping you roughly enough to topple you out of your chair.

“What the fuck?” you yelp in surprise, holding onto the table to balance yourself. After straightening back into your seat, you find that your view of the world has become obscured by asscheeks the size of beachballs.

“Hi Yoongi,” she purrs seductively. Or at least, what she thinks is seductive. To you, her voice sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

“Hello?” Yoongi says, but it comes out sounding more like a question. It’s clear that he doesn’t remember her name, as he searches your eyes for help. You shrug unhelpfully; you deleted almost all the names of everyone that you had gone to school with right after graduation. Besides, her horrendous plastic surgery makes it even twice as hard to discern her identity.

“Hi Hyejin,” Hoseok speaks up, answering your unspoken question. Oh, right. The name does ring a bell, somewhat. You don’t recall her looking like a cartoon character before, but you suppose beauty standards are meant to be subjective. Maybe she wanted to look like a One Piece character.

Hyejin purses her lips into a tight smile but doesn’t return his greeting. She turns back to Yoongi, bending forward until her boobs are practically smooshed against his face. You wonder idly if stabbing her chest with your chopsticks would cause them to burst like a balloon, or perhaps drain like a puss-filled pimple. Both, you surmise, would be very entertaining to watch.

“It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, hm? I heard you’ve been very busy ever since we graduated from high school,” she says, batting her eyelashes.

“Uh, yeah? Some of us have jobs,” he says, passively dissing her. You let out a strangled laugh, causing Hyejin to aim a glare back at you. You bring your (his) cup of water to your lips, feigning innocence.

Hyejin rolls her eyes. “Right. But I meant that you’ve become a real star back in Seoul! I didn’t know you were such a musical prodigy!”

“I’m really not. I just work hard,” he shrugs. He’s visibly uncomfortable, especially since Hyejin was pretty much breathing the same air as him. Every time he leans away from her, she takes it as an invitation to come closer. He is nearly lying horizontally at this point, his back parallel with the floor.

“Humble as well as handsome? My, my. I didn’t think you’d be such a charmer,” she laughs, saccharine sweet. She twirls her dyed brown hair with her perfectly manicured acrylic nails. You rub at the goosebumps forming on your arms, cringing at the phantom sensation of her nails digging into your skin.

“Just spit it out. What the hell do you want so you can leave,” Seokjin interjects. Everything about his demeanor says calm and collected, but the way he presses his lips into a thin line says otherwise. You can sense the air dropping in temperature, despite the embers burning behind his eyes.

“I came over here to ask if Yoongi could give me his autograph, that’s all. I am his biggest fan, after all,” she sulks. She winks at him for extra measure. “And maybe his number too? I’d love to discuss your music with you sometime!”

“Oh, um. That’s—” he cuts off, hesitant to answer. He tugs at his ears nervously, exchanging subtly alarmed glances with you.

You remember that signal very distinctly; it’s a distress call that he would do whenever he needed a way out. He used to do it a lot when you were at social gatherings, especially when people would trap him in boring or awkward conversations. He never did like socializing with people outside his circle, but he was often dragged to parties by his more extroverted friends.

He might be hot as hell with his stylish clothes and jaw-dropping undercut, but he’s still awkward as hell around strangers. When the universe created him, they made sure to keep everything in balance. If they hadn’t been fair, you certainly would’ve died much earlier.

“Yoongi, don’t you have spare CDs of your music?” you quip, dragging Hyejin’s attention onto you. Her eyes narrow imperceptibly, suspicious.

“I do?” He stares at you blankly.

You resist hitting your forehead in exasperation. “Yes, Yoongi. Remember? You left a couple of them in my car.”

Yoongi’s eyes light up in understanding. “Oh, right! I left my CDs. In your car. That we drove here. Together. We came here. Together. Yes, correct.”

From your periphery, you can sense Hoseok barely holding onto his sanity after witnessing that pitiful display. Who can blame him when Yoongi’s infamously terrible acting skills are having their first appearance in over ten years? How he managed to pass Drama class is still a mystery to this day.

“Yup,” you say, popping your p.  You give Hyejin a winsome smile, your hands folded neatly on your lap. You can almost see the steam blowing out of her ears. It fills you with delicious satisfaction. “Why don’t Yoongi and I go get them so he can sign one?”

If her eyes had been made of lasers, you’d be a cauterized mess jumble of organs by now. Can’t say you would regret it either way.

“How kind of you.” She sneers. “Also, I wasn’t aware that you two were still a thing.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were required to inform you of anything,” you retort placidly. You plaster on your fakest grin. “Now, if you can please move your fat ass—I mean, if you can please move out of the way so I can go to my car...” you trail off, gesturing for her to leave.

After a few more indignant sputters on her end, she eventually makes her exit. She throws a couple of poisonous glares, but they go largely ignored by you and your friends. With her gone, you feel as though you can finally breathe fresh air again.

“Great stuff, Y/N! Congrats on winning your first bitch-off,” Seokjin chirps, back to his usual self. You roll your eyes at his antics but smile nonetheless.

“Thanks. I learned from the best.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “So, are we still gonna go?” He looks back and forth from her to you. “Just so we can pretend you actually have my albums in your car?”

“Trust me, Yoongi-chi. She does have your albums in her car.” Seokjin titters. “I wasn’t kidding about the photocard collection.”

“Ignore him. And yes, I do have your albums. I listen to them in my car from time to time,” you say, attempting nonchalance. “I’d hate to give them away to that bitch, but if it keeps her away...”

Away from you is left unsaid, but it’s heavily implied.

(No, you aren’t jealous. You’re above jealousy. It’s not like that bitch would ever have a chance with him anyway, unlike you—!

Woah there, cowgirl. Let’s stay on the right path. Don’t want your heart getting chewed up and spat back out all over again, do you?)

“I’ll just mail you a new one. Signed, if you want. You can probably sell it on eBay or whatever.” He tries to say it like a joke, but his brow is too furrowed to be convincing. (You want to kiss him there and make it go away.)

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so all you do is nod mutely. You stand up and Yoongi follows suit.

“We’ll be right back. If she comes back before then, tell her to scram,” you tell Hoseok and Seokjin. They salute you in response (well, Hoseok does. Seokjin does a very rude gesture with his fingers that is supposed to mimic something explicit. Feel free to use your imagination.)

The walk to the parking lot is a quiet one. The two of you stay side by side, his strides naturally matching your own. Unlike before, you don’t feel the need to fill the silence for once, content to just be in each other’s presence.

The hotel that your reunion is being held at is unusually unpopulated. The lobby consists of a handful of employees milling about, a few of whom look ready to fall asleep on their feet. You nod politely at the bellboy who opens the main doors for you, declining his offer to call the valet service to fetch your car.

“Just hand me my keys. I’ll look for my car in the parking lot.” It wouldn’t be hard to find, anyway. Your beat-up Toyota Corolla looks as though it’s been through three wars and then some.

It isn’t long until you find it parked close to the entrance. You unlock your car from the passenger seat, shimmying the glove compartment open to reveal your collection of CDs.

“Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you listened to my music,” Yoongi says, voice loud amidst the tranquil night. It startles you, and you accidentally knock over some of the albums onto your car floor. On top of the pile lies Yoongi’s most recent album, the one you recall he had released a couple of months ago.

Strange, how just hours ago you were listening to his music on the way to the reunion, only for the boy on the cover of the album to be just inches away from you.

“Yeah, well. You’re a pretty good artist,” you say.

“Only pretty good?” he repeats, amused.

“Don’t push it,” you snort. You grab the album on top, waving it in front of him. “This should be good enough, right?”

He plucks it from your grasp, an unreadable expression clouding his eyes. He chuckles, but there’s an edge of sadness in his tone. “Good enough,” he agrees solemnly.

His sudden quietness is different from the peaceful one before. It’s sorrowful, maybe regretful. He looks like a man stuck in grief.

“Did you know that I didn’t finish this album before releasing it?”

The question seems a little out of the blue, but you answer regardless. “No, I didn’t. They don’t sound unfinished to me.”

“The songs themselves aren’t unfinished,” he explains. He turns the album over, his finger running down the back where the tracklist is printed. “One of my songs never made it in.”

“Couldn’t you have delayed the album launch so you could complete it?”

He shakes his head. “It was actually the first song I finished out of all of them.”

“Then..?”

“It didn’t matter, at the time. I wrote it for someone specifically, but I didn’t want to put it on the album if she—they didn’t listen to it. It wouldn’t matter if the whole world heard that song because only they would understand it.”

“But now? What changed?” Fear and hope run down your spine in tandem when the question tumbles out of you. You hold your breath, and the world shifts from its axis.

But he doesn’t elaborate further.

x x x x x

You return to the hotel after acquiring both an album and some more tension. The album feels heavy in your hands, weighed down by secrets you are still too afraid to uncover. Not that Yoongi would ever willingly divulge them to you—because revealing them would make them real, and making them real would mean you would have to accept them, and accepting them would cause you to—

“They’re gone,” Yoongi announces when you reenter the ballroom. You can’t spot your table from the entranceway, but the certainty in Yoongi’s tone makes you believe him.

“No fucking way. Did those two little shits ditch us to exchange body fluids or something?”

Yoongi grimaces. “Please don’t say it like that. It’s bad enough that I was sitting close enough to Hoseok a while ago that I got accidentally footsie’d by Seokjin hyung.”

You wince, placing a pitying hand on his shoulder. “God didn’t make us his strongest soldiers.”

Yoongi tries dialing Hoseok a few times, but none of the calls connect. “Just my rotten luck,” he groans. He types angrily into his phone, worry creasing his forehead. “He was supposed to be my ride back to his place.”

“Seokjin isn’t answering his phone either,” you say apologetically. “How much do you wanna bet this is part of their evil scheme to leave us together?”

“I don��t doubt it in the slightest,” he deadpans. He sighs tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I suppose I can take a taxi there, but I also don’t know if he’ll be home to open the door for me.”

“Then why don’t you just stay with me?”

You don’t know what you’re doing.

In your head, the offer makes sense. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Nothing is stopping you from rekindling a friendship with him. You have purely platonic intentions. Friends help each other out.

Never mind the fact that your heart hasn’t stopped fluttering the entire night. Never mind the fact that you’ve caught yourself staring at him just as many times as you’ve caught him staring at you. Never mind the fact that you don’t want the night to end, not now not ever.

(Never mind the fact that you’ve never quite stopped loving him.)

So when he accepts, you convince yourself that offering had been the right thing to do.

(Maybe. Hopefully. You just wish your heart doesn’t end up as collateral damage.)

The drive home is short, thanks to the late hour. You had asked him if he had wanted to stay until the end of the reunion, but he had declined. “Nothing else left for me there,” he says.

You feel as though he’s hinting at something. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. “At least I get to keep my album.”

Yoongi laughs, short and sweet.

As much as you try to fight it, sitting in the car with him brings up a lot of memories.

The two of you in the backseat as his older brother drives you to his house for dinner, backpacks filled with crumpled notes and loose pens, a promise of an intense study session for your upcoming exams ready to be broken. You remember how the sky would turn orange in the afternoon, the warm light streaming through the car window and washing Yoongi’s skin with a soft glow.

His cheeks had looked inviting, his lips even more. And you would lean over, kissing him like it was easy. Because it was easy, and you never had to think twice about it.

Your trip down memory lane doesn’t end in the car. As you walk up the steps to your childhood home, you hesitate by the door, your keys frozen over the lock. You can hear Yoongi’s soft breathing behind you, but his presence doesn’t feel as stifling as you thought it would be.

You’re far from being at ease, but you aren’t frightened either. Mostly, you’re just filled with anticipation. Of what? You aren’t sure.

“Excuse the mess. Jungkook is in the middle of moving out so there’s just stuff everywhere,” you say just as you open the door. You toe off your shoes by the entrance, kicking them off haphazardly into the pile of sneakers and boots.

You hear Yoongi huff out a laugh behind you. “Aish, that kid. Still hasn’t let go of his Timbs, huh?”

“He has also been really into chunky sneakers these days. I think he’s finalizing his transformation into Thumper,” you joke. “He’s staying at his new apartment for the weekend with my parents, so you won’t be seeing them. They’re helping him settle in.”

“Really? He didn’t mention moving when we spoke. Where is he moving to?”

“Busan. He and his best friend from college are going to start a restaurant in his hometown. Which is funny, since neither of them are the best chefs.”

Yoongi whistles. “Still, that’s impressive. I can’t remove the image from my head of when he was a kid. He was so scared of anything. He wouldn’t let go of your mom’s leg even if his life depended on it.”

He steps deeper into the house, his gaze jumping from end to end as he surveys your childhood home. You watch him, noting how right he looks standing there in the middle of your living room, like a chipped painting that has been restored.

It’s scary, how easily you’ve accepted him back into this place.

He stays rooted to the spot, the moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows and illuminating his frame. The air pulses with something magical, something dream-like, and it muddles your vision. It’s the only explanation you have for why your chest tightens when he turns to face you, with a gaze filled with sadness, mourning, yearning.

“Jungkook’s height chart is still here,” he murmurs. The small nicks on the kitchen door frame are hard to see, and other people have mistaken them for signs of wear and tear. But he knows what they are because he was there when your mother had etched the first scratch.

He looks at your ancient dining table, his hand brushing over the surface. “This too,” he says, rubbing at a large burn mark on the wood.

“Mom made sure to use placemats after that. I didn’t think a sizzling plate would burn through the table like that,” you say, giggling as you reminisce. “You know, we still use your mom’s galbi jjim recipe. We haven’t found a better one.”

“I’m sure she would love to hear that,” Yoongi smiles, but it fades just as quickly. “It’s so… strange. Being here again and seeing that nothing really changed.”

But things did change. Upstairs, in your bedroom. That night, ten years ago.

You still remember what you had said to him, when you had said it to him, how you had said it to him.

It was a sunny afternoon, the time of day when you’d be on your way home from school. The two of you had stood in your room, neither of you wanting to sit because sitting meant staying, and staying only made this harder.

There hadn’t been many tears in that moment; those were shed only after the realization had sunk in, when you’d fully understood what had happened. At the time, the decision had been as easy as breathing.

Except you had both been drowning. The clock was ticking down to the end of high school, and the inevitable wasn’t slowing down.

Yoongi wanted to chase his dreams in Seoul. You wanted to stay closer to home, with your friends and family.

You weren’t going to be the one to hold him down. You weren’t going to be that person, not when he’s destined for greater things than his hometown could offer—not even a girl who loved him would be worth staying for.

He had suggested it, first. He had been prepared for you to cry, or maybe scream, but you did none of that. Instead, you pulled him close, hugging him tighter than you ever had before. You wanted to make it last, imprint the sensation onto your brain so that his warmth might stay with you, even after he’s little more than a distant memory. You trembled, terribly so, even though the beginnings of summer crept on your skin like a brand.

It’s time to let him go, Time whispered. You refused to listen, just for another moment.

Let me have this last moment, you beg. But Time refused to listen.

“Do you know?” Yoongi had spoken into your neck, had hoped his words would stain there. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Love, not loved. “I did,” you say. You think better of it. “I do.”

When you separated, for good this time, it had left an ache deeper than you could have ever imagined.

But you were young. Young love was supposed to hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to last. “You’ll find others,” your mother had said, brushing a soothing hand through your hair as you sobbed.

Then why? Then why has it lasted this long?

It has been a question you’ve asked yourself, and you’re starting to think that the answer has always been right in front of you.

The answer is standing in front of you: real, alive, close.

“Why didn’t you ever date again?” you ask. You ask even though you know he can lie, if he wants. He can tell you anything and you would believe him.

But he wouldn’t; you know he wouldn’t.

“I was afraid of closing a door that I never meant to close in the first place,” he says. His voice crackles like static, but that might be the blood rushing to your head. He moves toward you but keeps a hand’s width away. Still too far.

He continues. “After that day, when I left,” he swallows, “after I left, I think… I think I left a piece of me with you. A-and I don’t think I ever stopped…” he cuts off, exhaling shakily.

“Stopped what?” you breathe.

“You know.” He waves his hands around helplessly. They fall heavily back down to his sides, defeated. “You know?” he repeats.

You do. Because you are the same. The old wound had never healed; it burns and it bleeds like new.

Your skull feels like it’s stuffed with cotton when you close the distance between the two of you. He circles his arms around your waist, tentative, but he relaxes when you wind your arms around his neck. Your vision is warped, so you choose to close them. You wait, with bated breath, as his warmth inched closer and closer.

The sensation of his lips on yours jolts you back to your senses. His kiss reminds you of your youth, of a love that had made you excited to start your day. Even now, your body remembers, and it rejoices.

The tenderness does not last long before it turns fervent, tongue and teeth crashing like waves against the shore. If his kisses could speak, they would tell you stories of how much he missed you, of how much he mourned the time you had both lost. They would tell you of the days when he’d almost pressed your number onto his phone, of the nights when he’d stare at the polaroids he had kept of you.

They would ask if you still love him like he still loves you.

He tastes of desperation, and you are likely to be the same. It is a desperation you haven’t tasted in years—but it doesn’t feel scary like it used to. Time no longer feels like it’s racing against you, like you had something to prove before the hour was over. This reckless abandon feels like home against your skin—it is an ache being soothed after having ripped your scabs over and over again.

It’s Yoongi.

And when he pulls you to your room, he doesn’t even need his eyes to find his way as his feet still memorize the floorboards. He struggles with the doorknob, forgetting that it always jammed, but it’s okay because you can always teach him again. You can teach him everything again.

The bed creaks under your weights and even the mattress sounds like it is sighing in relief. That sigh echoes from your lips when his hand slips under your clothes, his palm stopping over your heart.

“I won’t break it, this time,” he says. He promises. “If you let me.”

You wonder if he can feel your heart soaring, pounding against your ribs. “I think the line has long been crossed to ask for my permission.” You place your hand over where his is laid. You squeeze tight.

This time, you don’t let him go.

#bangtanarmynet #armiesnet #btsbookclub #bts scenarios #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #bts fluff #high school!au #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #yoongi scenarios #suga scenarios #yoongi fluff #bts suga #bangtan #bts fanfic #FUCK ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE IVE WRITTEN ANYTHING #PLS TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!!!!! EX DEE #okay time to head to class sob

[crystalcow]

𝑆𝑎𝑝𝑛𝑎𝑝𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑//𝑆𝑎𝑝𝑛𝑎𝑝 𝑝𝑡 3

Masterlist // part one // part two

Sapnap x reader !p !child reader

Pronouns used: none specified!

Warnings: swearing, death, betrayal

•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰

╔.▪️.═════════╗

Being sapnaps child will include..

╚═════════.▪️.╝

𝐏𝗼𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐥

Apparently the castle got attacked

George was killed by the one and only technoblade

You haven’t personally met the man but you respected him

After all he is a legend

But he killed George

So you were dragged with sapnap when he got pinged on his coms

Dream and George were arguing on the prime path

The sight somewhat terrified you

They were supposed to be best friends?

Dream is the strongest person on the server

George was supposed to be the most unproblematic and protected person

For some reason Quackity was also there

Hiding in the corner of Tommy’s house

“You don’t give a shit about us”

Those words brought some hurt to you as they left sapnaps mouth

“Of course I care about you! I just want to keep him safe.”

The three most important men in your life

The dream team, and ultimate trio the friendship that could never crack! The ones who raised you to be who you are

They were falling apart

“George is no longer king!”

Quackity was just eating all of the drama

Damn duck

“I’ve done so much for you, I hope you don’t forget.”

“Like what?” “I helped you raise a child Sap, a damn child.”

That pissed the both of you off

As if you didn’t just recently spend a whole day with him

None the less your whole life

Being drawn into wars, multiple actually

Practically being drawn to death

“Don’t you bring them into this Dream.”

“Eret is now king again, he can actually rule this place.”

“I was the best king this server ever had!”

So there it happened

The crown was snatched off of George’s head and you were dragged along with it

“Don’t worry, we can start our own place!”

“El rapids it is”

𝐄𝐥 𝐑𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐬

You were 100% skeptical about all of this

You didn’t trust that this would be good

I mean how could you

Everything that someone starts on the server

Dies, explodes, nukes, or straight up fails

So instead you went down to Lmanburg for the day!

You went to Nikkis bakery to get something to eat

She was glad to give you a couple snacks for the road

So while you were walking around the new area you spotted dream

“Where you heading off to?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You both eyed each other weirdly

“Aren’t you supposed to hate me?”

You just laughed

Ofcourse you were upset

But you were also bored

“And?” “Come on let’s go see tommy”

So you agreed and carelessly followed the green man

You missed Tommy, after not having seen him for a bit

Fucking hell you needed friends

But when you got there

“Why the fuck is everything gone!”

You ran around the now blown up area

The tents were destroyed and signs were thrown around

Then you noticed the large pillar

You instantly ran to dream, begging him to give you a pearl

He was upset himself he lost his leech

So you threw the pearl up thankfully landing on the pillar

Looking around to see if there was any way he could’ve survived

But you accidentally tripped

And lost your first life

𝐘/𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝗼𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝗼𝗼 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 ♡︎♥︎♥︎

𝐏𝐫𝗼𝐩𝗼𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐬

You woke up screaming in your bed

The three lines on your wrist now faded into two

Sapnap came rushing in holding you lose to him

You tried not to but you cried a little

This was your first time loosing a life..

And you didn’t even mean too!

“Your never fucking leaving me again.”

Karl came in with Quackity following after

Karl just like snatched you away from sapnap and just held you

That man was ready to go back in time and reverse that from ever happening

Trust me he will if you ever loose another life

So after that everyone kept a close eye on you

That was until one day you were with your dad

You both were at your old house just chilling around

Before he handed you two velvet boxes

You were in awe of the two rings that sat in them

Who the fuck paid for these??

“I’m going to purpose.”

You almost dropped the boxes

“What?”

Sapnap just kept smiling

“You really like em huh” “Yeah flame, I love them.”

So you just hugged him

Internally freaking the fuck out

What would this mean???

Three dads? What if they wanted another child! Oh hell no

So you all stood in el rapids

Candles were spread around the top of the grassy hill

There were flowers blooming from every direction and lanterns set afloat

It looked mystical

You watched as sapnap got down on one knee

Karl was in shock, tears streaming down his eyes

Quackity looked love struck, looking into sapnaps eyes with total adoration

So when they said yes your dad called you and the other two just hugged you

“I’m guessing they said yes” you laughed

“Yeah they did!”

You couldn’t help but be happy

Your dad finally found some happiness

Even tho life was going to shit

If you won’t be there

He’ll have them

𝐋𝗺𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺

Oh wait shit did someone spot tommy?

There was supposed to be a festival today

So you went to go check it out

Maybe throw a ball at the furry

“Go fetch!” You shouted at fundy

Yeah he was not happy and just threw you the finger

“Hey N/n is Dream coming?”

You were excited that Tubbo was actually talking to you again

“Huh? Oh yeah I think” “Great thanks”

And back to the disappointment

So you walked over to get a pretzel or some shit

And then heard everyone making a commotion

There he was, Dream walking in (angry) with full netherite armor

Damn dude respect some tradition

“Tommy blew up the fucking community house”

Did someone say tommy?

Oh you were ready to kill that bastard

Hell if Dream didn’t you most definitely will

So you followed everyone to the community house

Yeah you were ready to fucking cry

One of your homes, the place you’d always confide in since you were little

Where dream and George both helped raise you

Now blown to shreds

“What the fuck”

They were talking about Tubbo giving up the discs

Oh we are not going through that shit all over again

And this time the odds are most definitely not in your favor

Then tommy appeared half invisible

“YOU FUCKING DICKHEAD I THOUGHT YOU DIED YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT”

You litterly stabbed him, having to be held back by Quackity

“Alright hot shot, lets let them have their argument”

Tommy sent you an apologetic look already on the verge of tears

“Tubbo your not seriously considering this”

Then it hit everyone

“The discs were worth more then you ever were!”

Oh yeah we’re you already pissed off at tommy?

Yeah

And he just made it worse

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY TO TUBBO YOU SHIT HEAD”

Yeah you didn’t take pretending to be dead very lightly

Oh shit why was techno there

never mind, Lmanburg will be gone by tomorrow

No point killing tommy yet

Whos side were you on?

Neither. You litterly went into that battle feild and killed some shit

That was until multiple pieces of tnt landed ontop of your head

And that’s where you lost your second life

Shit

𝐘/𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐰 𝐮𝐩 ♡︎♡︎♥︎ ⚠︎︎ᴏɴᴇ ʟɪғᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴀ��ɴɪɴɢ

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐬𝗼𝐧

This time when you won’t up it didn’t feel as bad

But you still screamed

A rush of a heartburn and scars employed on your body

The second line now faded into one

Shit

You were only 16-17 and on one life??

Die young the better

You waited out in your bed until the end of the fight

Death alerts and messages drowning out your communicator

But you had no energy what so ever

Until it all went quiet

You tried your damn best to get out of bed and walked to the damaged Lmanburg

There were people crying

Others were severely hurt

Then there were those who were perfectly fine

The whole place was a crater

Lmanburg.. the place of agony and depths of your pain

Now it’s finally gone

What the hell are you gonna do now?

Quackity spotted you calling out for Sapnap

You felt like you were gonna be crushed under their hold

“I’m gonna fucking kill dream.” You heard Quackity mutter

Sapnap felt like a bad father

Who lets their kids die twice?

(Cough cough Wilbur and dream)

Then suddenly things switched around

You were walking around with a bloodied nose and black eyed Tommy

Yeah you did a number on him

But it’s okay since he was your best friend

And there was a sign inside his house

“Wednesday you and Tubbo. Bring no one or anything, lets settle this once and for all”

The final disc war

“Tommy you can’t go” “I’m going N/n, he has my discs.”

So you like cried a little bit lined up on the prime path

Giving the two probably the last hugs they’ll ever get

Prime you really didn’t want to loose them

So you ran straight to church prime

Litterly begging Master Oolong that they won’t die

“Please please please spare them. Pogchamp.”

(Please this is all jokes and old references don’t cancel me)

You got a blast message from punz on your comms with cords

“Come here. bring your best armor”

So you did so running to the nearest ender chest

If walking means saving tommy and Tubbo, it’s somewhat worth it

Sapnap made sure you didn’t leave his side as you traveled around the nether

even tho you could literally swim in the lava

So just to piss him off

You jumped in

The sigh of relief this man

Yeah he’s gotten a little more paranoid for you

But it’s okay since it’s in love

You looked around the weird black stone room

There were two giant photos of the discs

And everything was made out of the same material

No design what so ever

Tommy and Tubbo ran to you like you were gonna protect them

“Dream why” you asked as he was incased in the blocks

Down on his last life

Just like you

‘I’m sorry’ he mouthed to you

Why was he apologizing to you?

Hasn’t he hurt everyone here

You looked around the different items

Tracing the outline of the item frames

Gasping in shock as you a cage with your name on it next to badboyhalo

“Tell em what you told me! How you blew up the community house!”

Your neck spun around faster then an owl doing that 360 thing

You picked up your ace seriously read to slash his head off

“Wait wait! Lets put him in the prison.”

So they took him off

And it pained you to see it

You trusted that man for a very long time

Nothing stays the same on the Dream Smp

•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰

TUMBLR WOULDNT LET ME WRITE MORE KMS. So yes I’m sorry but there will have to be a part FOUR. I just wanted to finish this-

As always! Ask or request anything and ask if you want to be on a tag list :))

#sapnaps child #sapnap x reader #sapnap x y/n #child reader #dream smp x y/n #dream smp x reader #mcyt #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #quackity x reader #karl jacobs x y/n #karl jacobs x reader #tommy innit x reader #tubbo x reader #dream x reader #dream smp #lmanburg #lmanhole

[seijorhi]

Patience of a Saint

An Ushijima x virgin reader commission for the wonderful @hearteyes-candyskies, I hope you enjoy it, bby! 💕

Ushijima Wakatoshi x female reader

TW non-con, nsfw, smut, virgin reader

“Wait, you’re kidding me, right?”

Ushijima simply shrugs, “Why would I joke about something like that?”

Semi and Tendou share a glance, the former hiding a smirk behind the glass rim of his beer bottle. Tendou had been the one to drag them both downtown for ramen in the middle of the night, an impromptu reunion of sorts, now that the volleyball season had wrapped up and Tendou was back in Sendai.

Perhaps his first mistake had been to allow his friend the option to stay with him instead of booking a hotel. Though, truth be told, Tendou would have undoubtedly monopolised his time regardless of where he was staying, and Ushijima would have allowed him to.

They were friends, after all, and that was what friends did. He was just glad that Semi had been roped in alongside him. 

When and how the conversation had steered towards his relationship with you, more specifically the details regarding your bedroom exploits together, Ushijima isn’t entirely sure, but he has no reason to lie to his friends.

The disbelieving look on Tendou’s face, however, makes him wonder if he’s said something wrong. “You mean to tell me that you’ve been dating this girl for how many months now, and you haven’t actually slept together yet?”

At that, Ushijima shakes his head. “We’ve slept together,” he corrects, taking a sip of his own beer. He likes sleeping with you, finds an odd sense of comfort he’s never felt before, waking up to find you curled against his side. 

Most mornings Ushijima has no trouble getting out of bed for an early start. He’s found that lately, at least on the nights you stay over, that’s no longer the case. 

The snort from his right is abruptly cut off into a choking cough as Semi tries and fails to mask his amusement. “He means sex, dude. You haven’t fucked her yet, have you?”

“No.”

The loud cackles from the ex-middle blocker are enough to draw the attention of several other patrons, but Tendou pays them no mind. “Why the hell not? Is she hideously ugly or something?”

“Nope,” Semi answers in his stead, a little too quickly for Ushijima’s liking. But he supposes he cannot blame his friend for noticing your attractiveness. You are, of course, beautiful - he’s told you many times.

A lone, red eyebrow quirks, glittering amusement dancing across Tendou’s face, “Are you… are you having trouble performing, big guy?”

Semi almost chokes on his mouthful, and even Ushijima feels the tips of his ears flush red. “No,” he asserts with a frown. “She…” he pauses, unsure for the first time whether this might be a line that he’s crossing to reveal something so personal between the two of you.

It’s not like he hasn’t discussed sex with them before. He has an almost uncomfortable amount of knowledge regarding the girls the redhead has been with, and Semi is no better.

(Semi was actually far, far worse.)

And truth be told he’s never been shy to share his own exploits with his friends, either. You might be the first girl that Ushijima’s ever loved, but love is not a necessary requirement for sex. He ensured that his partners left satisfied and so did he, there wasn’t anything more to it than that.

But you mean something to him. You mean everything. 

“She… wants to wait,” he says quietly. “She’s-”

Tendou’s red eyes widen, his face transforming into an expression of delighted surprise as he puts it all together. “She’s a virgin?!”

“Hey, dumbass,” Semi grunts, smacking his old friend over the back of his head, “you wanna say that a little louder? I don’t think the entire restaurant heard you.”

Tendou waves off his admonishment with a flick of his wrist, his attention firmly fixed on the ace. “So I was right then? You found yourself a cute, innocent little virgin for a girlfriend?”

Ushijima doesn’t reply, he doesn’t need to. 

He can still remember the scared look on your face the first time you stopped him, the way your hands shook and your pretty eyes filled with tears as you explained. Did you truly believe he would leave you over something as simple as that? 

While he might have been… somewhat disappointed, he understood. He loves you, he’s known that for a while. He could be patient, wait for you to become accustomed to him, wait for you to get over your fears and apprehension.

Not that you make it easy for him. He knows you aren’t teasing him on purpose with low cut dresses and too short skirts, cuddling close in bed at night just so you can grind your ass against the swell of his cock, you’re too innocent for such things.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to ignore the heat that pools in his gut, the stirrings of desire and twitch of his cock every time you bend over in front of him and he’s rewarded with a perfect view. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s had to excuse himself to the bathroom, bracing himself against the wall, bent over and fisting his cock to the mental image of you spread out naked, desperate and begging before him. 

“Wait, wait, hold up. I’m still a bit ticked off that you’ve been dating this girl for months and managed to hide her from me, your very best friend. I wanna see pics!”

Ushijima exhales, “You will meet her tomorrow-”

But it’s a fruitless endeavour, as Semi’s already scrolling through his phone to pull up your social media. Dutifully he passes it across the table, and Ushijima can only watch as Tendou’s eyes widen and a wicked grin creeps across his face. 

“You, my big, beautiful, brawny friend, have the patience of a saint. My condolences.”

—

He meets you the very next day, and there’s a strange feeling in Ushijima’s chest as he watches you collapse into a fit of giggles at Tendou’s joke, the redhead’s arm slung casually over your shoulders.

He’s pleased that you get along with his old friends, it’s not something he’s ever had to concern himself with with his previous partners. They were nothing more than blips on a radar - not necessarily one night stands, but hardly worth introducing to the people who matter most to Ushijima.

Yet he can’t help but linger on Tendou’s comment from the night before.

You hadn’t told him that you were waiting for marriage. It wasn’t a religious vow you’d taken. It was just that you weren’t ready for sex yet. You asked for time.

And he’d understood. Your relationship was new, and he supposed that for your first time he was perhaps intimidating. You were shy. Nervous.

It was to be expected.

But hasn’t he proven by now that he can be gentle? That he loves you, and he has absolutely no intention of leaving you? You’re the only one he wants to be with - the only one he’ll ever want to be with. If you’re waiting for the right ‘one’ to lose your virginity to, what more does he have to do to convince you that he’s it?

Which makes him consider, watching you smile at him as you duck into his kitchen to grab some more snacks, whether you might not be as invested in this relationship as he is.

He doesn’t doubt that you love him, but even as you sidle up beside him, letting him tuck you to his side where you belong, he can’t help but question whether the true reason you haven’t allowed him to take you as he wants is because you’re still under the assumption that your relationship has an expiration date.

The thought doesn’t sit well with him.

Sex is separate from love, Ushijima knows that, but he’s also firmly of the belief that it can be an act of intimacy, an expression of love deeper than words or other actions can convey. He wants to feel that with you. 

He wants to watch you writhing beneath him, your pussy squeezing around his cock, milking it for all it’s worth, lost in the ecstasy that only he can bring you. 

He wants to know what sounds you’ll make, what pretty moans and gasps he can draw out from you as he fucks you within an inch of your sanity. 

He wants to look in your eyes the first time he makes you cum, wants to take his time, to kiss you slowly, baptise you in pleasure and watch as you surrender yourself completely to the love he has for you. 

Ushijima doesn’t have time to waste on romantic flings and relationships that will go nowhere. You are his future, so it does not make sense for you to keep holding yourself back where sex is concerned. 

The sound of your laugh breaks through Ushijima’s musing and he’s pulled back to the present as you recount the story of how the two of you met to the redhead. He’s told Tendou before, but somehow the way you tell it made it sound better. You paint him in a better light, make yourself out to be the awkward one, stumbling over your apologies when it was his fault that you’d tripped in the first place. 

You don’t have a clue about the weeks leading up to that moment, but it hardly matters. He’s content merely just to listen as you speak, your cheeks warming, long lashes fluttering as you glance up at him with that gentle smile of yours.

He loves you. 

Across from the both of you, he catches the pointed look in Tendou’s eye- 

It will be good for the both of you.

-and comes to a decision.

Unsurprisingly, the redhead just grins brightly when Ushijima corners him shortly afterwards, telling him that he will have to find somewhere else to stay for the night.

“No worries, I can crash at Semisemi’s,” he sings, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. “You two need your space, I get that.”

Ushijima nods, turning to leave, only for Tendou to reach out and stop him. “Yes?”

“You know, I kinda like her, Ushiwaka. Think she’ll be good for you, so try not to break her in two tonight, yeah?”

He frowns at the comment, causing Tendou to break into a fit of laughter. 

By now, he should be used to his friend’s ribbing, but the thought of hurting you even as a joke doesn’t sit well with the ace. 

To his credit, Tendou plays his role well. You all but beg him to stay for dinner, but he just mournfully shakes his head, sighing about Eita twisting his arm and forcing him to go watch him and his band play at some local bar.

And then, it’s just the two of you.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have put more effort into making this romantic for you. He’s never had to try with things like that before. He should have cooked dinner, and maybe considered candles and roses, or even music.

Instead, you order takeout and eat it sprawled across Ushijima’s lap, and he cannot find it within himself to mind. The most mundane activities are made better simply for you being by his side, he’s found.

He waits, fingers casually stroking along your arm as you curl up to his side to watch something on TV. You seem to be enjoying it, if the giggles that spill from your lips are anything to go by, but Ushijima finds himself distracted by the gnawing feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, an eagerness that has him twitching to act.

It doesn’t help that he’s all too aware of the softness of your body pressing against his. 

But he won’t have your first time together be on his living room couch, of all places. He has enough patience to wait for weariness to set in, and when you yawn trying to muffle it against his shoulder, Ushijima almost smiles. “Why don’t we go to bed?”

You nod, and he presses a gentle kiss to your hair before helping you up. 

He knows that you like to shower before sleeping, and while there’s a voice in his head that whispers for him to go and join you, Ushijima simply strips out of his clothes, sits on the edge of his bed and waits.

When you emerge from the steam, smelling faintly of the vanilla and citrus body wash he’d bought after the first night you’d stayed over, he stiffens. Instead of your usual sleeping attire (an old tee-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts) you’re clad solely in one of his fluffy towels, hair still damp, skin glistening with stray droplets of water.

“Hey, sorry I forgot my-” you pause, words trailing off as you take in the sight of your boyfriend, utterly naked. For a split second, you freeze in place, eyes wide and lips softly parted, like a deer caught in headlights.

And then, just as Ushijima moves to stand, you snap out of it.

“Oh my god!” you cry, whirling around and clutching the knot of your towel, hiding yourself from his view and burying your face in your hands. “I-I’m sorry!” 

It’s rather adorable how flustered you get by something as natural as nakedness.

“Why wou- you know what, nevermind. I…uh, I forgot my clothes, they’re just on my bag I think, could you, um- could you please pass them to me?”

He spies them, folded neatly on the top of the overnight bag you’d packed. Instead, he reaches out to take your hand and gently tug you back towards him.

“Wakatoshi, what are you-” but your surprised protests are swallowed up as he leans down to kiss you. Yet instead of softening to his touch, allowing him to take the lead as he usually does, you stiffen in his arms, your hands finding their way to his bare chest, trying to push him away.

“Toshi, just- just stop for a second, please?” you gasp, managing to extricate yourself from the kiss.

That won’t do.

He has to be gentle with you, but with anticipation coiling in his gut, his cock stirring at the thought of your almost naked body pressed against his, it’s easy for him to forget his strength as he rids you of the offending material, bends down and hefts you up into his arms. 

“Shh, little one,” he says, ignoring your shouts as he takes the three steps over to his bed so he can lay you down. “I know you’re scared, but you have no need to be. I won’t hurt you. I’m going to make us both feel good, I promise.”

He bestows another kiss against your forehead as he climbs over your trembling frame. 

“Babe… Toshi, please- I-I’m not, I don’t-” your eyes are wide and filling with tears and you’re shaking your head - it fills him with a flicker of unease, but he knows deep down that this is just temporary.

You need this as much as he does, and once he shows you how wonderful he can make you feel, you’ll thank him. 

Cradling your cheek with one large hand, he tries to tell you as much.

But your breath is coming in quick pants, your terrified eyes darting past his broad frame as if you’re trying to look for an escape route while pleas and whimpers spill almost incoherently from your lips, and he realises that words won’t be enough.

He’ll just have to show you. 

“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing you once more before turning his attention to the rest of your body. It’s not the first time he’s seen you bared, of course, but it is the first time he’s been allowed the luxury of taking his time to enjoy it.

Your whimpers are soft and distressed as his lips trail down the column of your throat, resisting the urge to nip and suck at the tender skin, and you squirm under him when his mouth finds your breasts. The sounds you make for him, your choked little gasps only feed the pit of hunger deep inside of him. You must be able to feel his cock, big and thick, rutting up against your stomach, leaving a shining trail of oozing pre-cum across your skin as he busies himself playing with your tits.

They’re soft and pillowy, just the perfect size for his hands to grasp and knead, and the way that you keen for him, jerking a little when he sucks a nipple into his mouth and laves his tongue over the pebbling bud is utterly captivating. You’re so caught up in the attention he’s paying to your chest that you miss the hand that trails down your side, snaking between your trembling thighs.

At least until long, thick digits swipe along your folds. 

Like a frightened little rabbit, your eyes widen and you jolt into action. “Wakatoshi, stop!” you cry, hands finding his chest once more to try and push him off of you, your legs kicking out uselessly beneath him. 

His expression softens, his thumb sweeping against your thigh in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. “Shh, it’s okay. I need to prepare you to take me, otherwise it will hurt.”

If anything, your expression only becomes more panicked. “No, no, no, no-”

“Let me take care of my girl. You’ll feel good,” he murmurs, and already his fingers are sliding back to your pussy. You’re not as wet as he’d like, but it’s no matter, as his thumb finds your clit, his other fingers returning to tease at your entrance.

The soft little moan you try and fail to bite back as one finger slides inside of you sends a rush of blood straight to his cock. It twitches and throbs, aching for relief and perhaps if you were anybody else, he might throw caution to the wind and fuck you right then and there, regardless of whether you were ready or not.

But as you shiver, gasping as he curls the thick digit inside of you, he’s reminded that he needs to have patience. You are not worth rushing, and despite the feral beast inside of him that’s snapping and snarling to sink into your heat, he wants to savour this.

You only get one first time, and he’s determined to make yours unforgettable. 

“That’s just one finger,” he tells you, his thumb circling your clit in slow, steady movements. “You’re going to take three before I can fuck you properly, understand?”

He doesn’t want to break you in half, after all.

You still writhe beneath him, shaking and jolting as he teases your shining pearl and coaxes your pussy into accepting another finger, and when he lowers his mouth back to your tits to add to the pleasure building inside of you, a sob bursts free.

“Please- please, Toshi!”

A third finger prods at your entrance-

“Please don’t!”

He almost winces at the sharp hiss of pain that escapes you, but he reassures himself that it will only be for a moment. The stretch and burn will give way to pleasure as he fucks them into you slowly. Your pussy is so warm, so tight, sucking the digits in deeper and when rough fingertips brush against a particular spot on your walls and you cry out, Ushijima allows a small, adoring smile to cross his face.

“Good girl,” he purrs, quickening his pace. 

You’ve always been so beautiful to him, but when you cum for him that first time, face flushed and dewy, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try not to scream in pleasure, he doesn’t think there’s anything on earth that could possibly compare.

The same could be said about the way you taste, he thinks, greedily sucking your juices off of his fingers. 

“Wakatoshi,” you beg, lying spent across his bed still reeling from the afterglow of your orgasm as he slides your thighs further apart so he can settle between them. He grunts a little as he wraps his hand around his flushed cock and guides it to your sopping entrance, marvelling at the way you shiver and mewl when he nudges it against your oversensitive clit.

Olive eyes find yours, and he cannot resist leaning down to claim your lips once more as he sinks slowly inside of you.

The sound that escapes him is deep and guttural, but the feel of your warm pussy clenching around his throbbing cock is simply heaven, and he almost - almost - loses control.

Forcing his eyes open, he watches your face as you take his cock, feeling every vein and ridge stretch you out, the pained whimpers that slip from behind clenched teeth. He knows that he’s bigger than average, that his girth is impressive and that even with his foreplay you’re still squeezing around him like a vice, but he forces himself to take it slow, to allow you the time to adjust. 

He almost starts when you reach out to grab him, fingers painfully sinking into the muscles of his forearm as you fight off another wave of tears, so he pauses for a beat, peppering your face with more kisses. “You’re doing so well for me, such a good girl.”

When your grip eases, he resumes moving, drawing his hips back and trying not to curse at the friction your slick walls are creating. 

“I love you,” he grunts, “so much.”

And then he rocks his hips forward - steadily, filling you up again, allowing you to get used to his girth. He kisses you, trails rough fingertips gently along your skin, teases you finding all the sensitive spots that make you moan for him.

Gradually, he feels you relax around him.

The obscene sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin is drowned out by your soft whines and pants as Ushijima slowly picks up the pace. He fucks you deeply, but not roughly, taking care not to hurt you anymore than necessary.

It’s slow and sensual - your body can’t help but respond to his ministrations, and when you clench around him, sucking him deeper Ushijima can’t help but groan, feeling the tight coil of heat in his core burn as pleasure ripples through him.

He wants more. Needs it.

Ushijima’s hands wrap around your thighs, easing them back towards your chest so that your ankles fall over his broad shoulders. He kisses at your calf when confusion flickers across your face, but doesn’t offer any explanation as he snaps his hips forward once more. The choked scream that leaves your lips is beautiful, but he can barely focus on that when he finally bottoms out, his balls slapping against your ass as another hoarse groan leaves him. 

He promised himself that he would be gentle with you, but as your velvety walls quiver and convulse around him and your lips fall open in another soundless scream as your second orgasm hits, he’s not entirely sure that he’ll be able to keep that promise.

There’s a tightening in his balls and he can feel the tether he has on his control fraying little by little as you moan for him, your hips rocking up to meet his fervent thrusts. You’re beautiful, perfect, and he’s losing himself to the feeling of being buried inside of you. It’s indescribable, the way your pussy’s fluttering around him, clenching and pulsing, kissing his cock with sweltering heat - it feels like the very edges of his sanity are blurring as he fucks himself deeper inside of you, his cockhead hitting your cervix with every thrust. He wants to cum, wants to fill you up with his thick load again and again and again, wants you so full it’s leaking out of you-

It won’t be enough, it’ll never be enough.

He loves you, and Ushijima won’t ever be satisfied again without the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him, milking him for every drop that he’s worth.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere ushijima wakatoshi #yandere ushijima x reader #yandere ushijima #yandere ushijima wakatoshi x reader #tw non con #virgin reader

[thefanficmonster]

Innocent Life

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) & Child!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Grief, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Angst

Summary: As Ethan stands outside the ruins of Luiza’s house, looking the aftermath of the death he barely escaped in the eye, he cannot get the wails and cries of a child out of his head. Takes him a bit to realize they’re not a product of his trauma.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for the wonderful request, I had a blast writing it - what can I say, angst is my specialty hehe. Hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

How the hell is this happening? Why is this happening? Why to me? Why my family? Why were we the ones chosen for this suffering to be thrown upon? What did my daughter do to deserve this, for fuck’s sake?!

Why does everyone around me die? Why do I always loose everyone?

I’m the problem....

His knees are weak, his head’s spinning. His lungs have filled with smoke and ash so much he can barely breathe. His eyes sting, reddened around the edges, his vision blurry. However, what bothers him most is the mess that is currently his mind - swimming with the feeling of betrayal, sorrow and dread.

He lost so much so suddenly and in such a short amount of time. He lost Chris - someone he thought of as a friend but has now been replaced by a coldblooded killer and backstabber. He refuses to believe that’s still the Chris who saved him and Mia from Louisiana, he has to be dead.

Mia....

He lost Mia. He’s lost her before countless times - he lost her when he though she was dead, he kept losing her and getting her back at the Bakers’ residence as she switched between her monstrous form and being herself. He lost her again when they made it back, when her mind was clouded and darkened, when all she needed was solitude and when he wasn’t allowed anywhere near her as doctors upon doctors used her as a research object. And now he’s lost her again, this time for good. It’s just him and Rose now.

Or it would be if she too wasn’t taken from him, leaving him in the pit of grief and loss, both emotions at an intensity he’s never experienced before. Like a drill going through his heart, or a sledgehammer breaking it down to shards. Or as though his heart’s completely vanished, unable to take the anguish Ethan’s existence has become. The anguish that will live on for as long as he will.

Those three years of Mia being gone.

That nightmarish night back in Louisiana.

The horrific sight of dozens of bullets entering his wife’s body in front of his very eyes as he remained helpless.

The sound of Rose’s wailing cries.

God, he can still hear them. And oh so vividly. Like a cursed, haunting loop in his brain. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine her being a few feet from him, near him, giving him the opportunity to soothe her, calm her down, tell her it’s all gonna be ok even if it seems like hell at the moment. Promising he’d make it all alright and make the right people pay for what’s happened.

But then finally, he picks up on it - the oddity in the cries he’s hearing.

They’re too realistic for a mind to be able to produce. They’re too loud and too close and are external. And, most importantly, they sound like the cries of an older child.

Ethan quickly snaps himself back to reality, coming to terms with the knowledge that the sounds he’s hearing are a part of it and not some dark corner of his mind. Despite the horror he feels and creep up, taking over his whole body in the form of cold sweat, he still takes a step towards the source of the ear-splitting and heart-sinking noise. It’s instinctively human to feel a sickening feeling of sympathy combined with the need to shield something so powerless from any harm.

To save an innocent life.

Heading towards the side of what used to be Luiza’s house he spots it - a crib on top of which there’s a pile of rubble and wooden planks. The thing seems to barely be standing and yet it’s harboring the child whose cries have now grown louder. Ethan’s frozen for a few moments, frozen with fear. Frozen with the overwhelming thought that there’s no way he can save that child. Frozen and powerless, just like he was on the floor of his own home as life left Mia’s body.

You didn’t do anything for her....

The sound of a crack in the already weak wood, seemingly coming from the child’s crib, sends all his senses on edge, his adrenaline once again starting to rush through his veins.

But you can do something for that child, Ethan! Do something before it’s too late!

Within the blink of an eye, Ethan finds himself standing above the unsteady wooden structure, putting all his strength into removing the rubble that has thankfully piled atop the wooden planks, preventing anything from landing on the baby and harming it. Hell, it’s a miracle it didn’t suffocate from the smoke in the first place. Its cries are put to a halt when its wide eyes land on Ethan, who’s looking back at the toddler with the same amount of distress.

“Hi there. It’s ok, you’re safe now.“ He finds himself breathing out shakily as his trembling hands reach down, picking up the now silent toddler. “It’s ok, little one. You’re a literal miracle, you know that?“ His gaze travels over the ruin the house has become, the house that was this child’s home. Its family’s home. This toddler knows loss much like Ethan does, or it will when it grows up. But as of now, it’s secured in the bubble of blissful ignorance due to infancy.

And Ethan has come across yet another bump in the road: making his way in the castle was already gonna be a difficult and possibly lethal venture, but doing it with a child in his arms, that’s a death sentence for both him and the kid.

“You and I have a thing for surviving hell, but not even I am willing to take the risk of taking you with me, kid.“ He gently caresses the toddlers head as its big awed eyes blink up at him with curiosity.

One one hand, a castle with horrors he’s yet to be familiar with; on the other, a village which’s horrors he’s already seen and experienced and would rather die right in this very spot than subject this innocent kid to them.

Ethan’s once again stranded.

“What do I do with you, kid? Being with me won’t bring you any good. I’m like a death sentence to everyone around me.“ His heart breaks as he says that because - in his mind and by his logic - it’s the truth. It’s the only thing that makes sense in such a nonsensical situation.

Then suddenly, an idea sparks, fueling what little hope and courage he has left and getting his legs to move from the spot they’ve been stuck in for the past God knows how long. That’s not important right now. What matters is that, for the first time since this nightmare started, Ethan Winters has a clue of what he’s doing. He’s got a plan.

                                                                *  *  *

“I see you have returned!“ The Duke greets him with his signature lazy smile before his gaze lands on the child in Ethan’s arms, his eyes widening in surprise, “Oh, and you’ve got company!“

“Actually...“ Ethan stops in front of the shop, adjusting his grip on the kid, “They’ll be keeping you company from now until....well, until I come back.“

“And where is it you’re planning on going?“ The Duke asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I know how to take care of a child.“

Ethan grows irritated, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I’m gonna take a kid into that castle you called me insane for wanting to go in myself. Trust me, I wouldn’t be leaving them with you if it wasn’t my only choice.” When he doesn’t receive a verbal response from the Duke, more of an expression change that suggested he’s accepting of this, Ethan grow relieved, turning to the toddler that hasn’t taken its eyes off him even for a second. “Hey, you’re gonna be just alright with the big guy, ok? He’s gonna keep you safe until I come back.” His initial intention was to say ‘even if I don’t come back’ but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to the kid at least, “Until then...” He pauses when a name automatically pops up in his head, “Until then, Y/N, you’ll stay here with the Duke.”

After that heavy-hearted goodbye, Ethan reluctantly hands the kid - Y/N - over to the Duke, a shift they are not very happy about seeing as how they start wailing immediately.

“You owe me plenty, Mr. Winters.“ The Duke says with a frown on his face, displeased and already developing a headache from the child’s cries.

“I owe you nothing. What you’re doing is basic human decency.“ Ethan glares at him before turning his attention to Y/N, “Hey, it’s alright. I know you two aren’t big fans of one another, but I promise I won’t take long. I’ll be back before you know it.“ Planting a quick reassuring kiss on top of the child’s head, he steps away, relieved to find they don’t break out in a crying fit again.

With that peace of mind, he takes off on the path that’ll lead him to the castle. A part of him has found some peace, knowing that one innocent life has been saved.  However, there’s still one awaiting rescue. And he’ll be damned if he’s not the rescuer.

#resident evil 8 #resident evil #resident evil heisenberg #resident evil village #resident evil 7 #re village #re8 #re8 village #resident evil ethan winters #re ethan winters #ethan winters x reader #ethan winters #rose winters #mia winters #chris redfield #karl heisenberg #lady dimitrescu #video game #video games #video game fanfic #father #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #parent #angst #request #requests open #x reader #reader

[asweetprologue]

Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn’t help but steal it and/or friends with benefits falling in love <3 geraskier or jaskier/other wolf if you'd like a challenge

I got #2 twice, so I decided to combo these for you and @a-kind-of-merry-war. Hope you guys like soft af smut!! 

Explicit below the cut!

36. Friends with benefits and both people catching feelings AND

2. Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn’t help but steal it

Geralt freezes as soon as he steps into their shared room. He opens his mouth and closes it a few times, and then says, “Is that mine?”

Jaskier looks up from his seated position on the bed, propped up by the flimsy pillow the inn had provided, folded in half. He freezes himself, his pen poised above the page of his notebook, and looks between it and Geralt a few times. “What? The book?”

Geralt shakes his head as he steps into the room, allowing the door to fall shut behind him. Jaskier feels something hot unfurl in his gut at the dark look in Geralt’s eyes. It’s a look he’s gotten to know quite well recently, and it’s usually a precursor to good things. Geralt steps up to the bed and sets one knee beside him, and Jaskier’s heart rate spikes embarrassingly.

Geralt reaches out two fingers and slips them under the hem of the shirt Jaskier’s wearing. The dark fabric is soft with age, billowing around Jaskier’s form and falling loose about his shoulders. “My shirt,” Geralt says, and his voice is warm with something that Jaskier can’t identify.

Jaskier shivers. “Sorry,” he stutters, setting his notebook aside on the frail bedside table. “I, uh, my shirts are all in the wash, I can change into something else--”

Geralt pushes forward, his nose suddenly tucked into the hollow of Jaskier’s throat, where the collar of the shirt meets his skin. “Mm,” Geralt says, “don’t. You smell good. Fuck.” And then he bites lightly at Jaskier’s collarbone, and Jaskier is suddenly desperate to get the shirt off for a whole different reason.

They’ve been doing this for a while now.

Jaskier isn’t even sure anymore how it started. One moment you��re pining desperately after your best friend, and the next you’re - well, still pining, if he’s being honest. But now he’s pining while also having the best sex of his life on a regular basis. He’s not sure if it’s better.

It’s hard, is the thing. To sleep with your best friend, in the first place, much less sleep with your best friend who you’ve been in love with for the last ten odd years. Jaskier has to stop himself from reading into things, from seeing layers that aren’t there. When Geralt wraps his arm around Jaskier after they’ve finished, snuffling sleepily into his hair, or when he presses tender kisses to the bruises he left the night before, or when he looks at Jaskier across the campfire with something soft and burning in his eyes - none of it means anything. Geralt cares about him, Jaskier knows this, but they’re just friends who fuck each other sometimes. If Geralt had wanted more, he would have said, oh, anytime in the last decade and a half. Jaskier refuses to make a fool of himself believing otherwise.

But it’s hard. He wants Geralt constantly, a feeling that has only grown worse with each encounter, but every quick fuck just leaves him feeling achy and empty inside, no matter how blissfully good it is in the moment. If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t even care about the sex that much. It’s amazing - of course it’s amazing, Geralt is practically a god, and he’s got stamina - but Jaskier would trade it in an instant just for the knowledge that his feelings are even partially returned. Being so close to having what he wants, sharing intimate moments when their bodies are pressed tight together and singing with pleasure, only brings what he lacks into sharp relief.

Like now, with Geralt pushing him back into the shitty pillow and straddling his hips, dragging his unfairly large hands up Jaskier’s sides as he moves in to kiss him. Jaskier meets him halfway, immediately letting Geralt lick into his mouth and turn the kiss into something wet and needy. Geralt pulls away after not nearly long enough and starts biting kisses down Jaskier’s throat, sucking hard enough at one point that Jaskier can’t help how his hips thrust up against Geralt’s ass. Geralt makes a pleased sound against his jaw, a low rumble that has Jaskier squirming.

“Come on,” he pants, turning his head to try and recapture Geralt’s mouth. Geralt is uncooperative, so it lands somewhere near his temple instead. He’s still tucked into Jaskier’s shoulder, and Jaskier can feel him inhale deeply. “Are you-- Are you smelling me?”

Geralt hums an affirmative, taking another drag. Jaskier just blinks up at the timber ceiling of the inn, floored. After a moment Geralt says, “You smell good.”

Jaskier doesn’t know what to say to that, and Geralt doesn’t give him time to think about it. He pulls back, finally, and uses the hands still tucked under the shirt to ruck it up, his mouth falling on Jaskier’s left pectoral. Jaskier grabs the hem, fully intending to lift it over his head while Geralt is distracted, but a hand on his wrist stops him. He looks down to find Geralt watching him with sharp eyes, pupils blown wide. “Leave it on,” Geralt says, and Jaskier shudders at the heat in his tone. He drops the edge of the shirt, and Geralt goes back to work.

Usually when they do this, Jaskier makes an effort to stay in control. It’s not that he’s dominating by nature, though he doesn’t mind taking charge once in a while if his partner is interested in that. He just can’t handle it when Geralt turns his full attention to pleasuring him. It’s much easier to keep his feelings in check when he’s fully focused on Geralt’s pleasure. He can work his tender affections into the press of his lips and fingers easily, hide all the words he so desperately wants to say in the touch of skin on skin. It’s enough, he tells himself, to make Geralt feel good for once. And if he’s focused on how good Geralt feels, he doesn’t have to think about how much he wants Geralt to touch him tenderly in return.

This time, though, Geralt seems intent on making Jaskier writhe underneath him, and it’s immediately too much and not enough at once. Geralt takes his nipple into his mouth and sucks, and then laves his tongue over the bud until Jaskier is gasping. Once he seems satisfied with the left, he moves on to the other and gives it the same treatment, leaving love bites around the dusky skin before flicking his tongue over Jaskier’s nipple repeatedly. “Shit,” Jaskier says, throwing his head back as Geralt blows a stream of cool air over the sensitive skin. He feels hot and overwhelmed already, his cock straining in his trousers.

Geralt is soft and warm above him, nosing down the flat plane of Jaskier’s stomach, pressing tender kisses into his skin. He glances up when Jaskier speaks, and his eyes are soft too, the evening light streaming in through the lone window catching on the slim ring of gold around his pupils. He’s looking at Jaskier as if he cares, and his fingers are gentle when he reaches down to unbutton Jaskier’s pants. It’s too close, too much, but Jaskier doesn’t know how to change the pace, doesn’t know if he even wants to.

He drops his hands to Geralt’s shoulders as warm lips descend on his stomach, lifting his hips as Geralt pushes his trousers and braies down. Geralt leans back to pull them fully off, discarding them off the side of the bed. For a moment he just sits, looking over Jaskier spread out under him, and the warmth in his eyes makes Jaskier’s stomach go liquid with arousal even as anxiety furls in his chest. If Geralt keeps looking at him like that something is going to give. He can feel the words sitting like venom ready to spit on the back of his tongue, and he swallows them down before he tugs on Geralt’s shoulder to try and pull him back in. Maybe he can smother his selfish desires in Geralt’s mouth.

He shouldn’t want more. This should be enough.

But Geralt doesn’t meet him for the kiss, just shakes his head as he smooths a hand down Jaskier’s side and thumbs over the jut of his hip. He smiles, just a little, and his other hand moves to tug the shirt under Jaskier’s armpits back into place a bit. “I like you like this,” he says. Jaskier blinks at him.

“Like what?” he asks. He’s breathless, his cock arched up and smearing precome on his stomach, and Geralt is looking at him with something that seems part hunger and part fondness. He makes a last ditch effort, trying to turn things simple and dirty. He stretches out, knowing he must look obscene, and purrs, “Laid out for you? Ready for your cock?”

Geralt huffs a laugh - insulting, Jaskier thinks with a pout - and leans back in to press another kiss to Jaskier’s collarbone, this time just a faint brush of lips. “In my shirt,” he says simply, as if the words don’t wind their way immediately around Jaskier’s heart and squeeze. What does it mean? What could he possibly mean by that, it can’t be, he doesn’t--

Geralt is unaware of his spiralling, and after a moment it doesn’t matter, because Geralt is sliding his way back down Jaskier’s body and then Jaskier’s mind goes perfectly blank as Geralt’s mouth sinks down over his cock.

“Fuck,” Jaskier gasps, jerking at the sudden heat enveloping him. Two warm palms come up on either hip and hold him easily in place. Geralt hasn’t done this for him very often, and Jaskier had forgotten how overwhelming it is. There’s no hesitation in his movements, and all Jaskier can do is lie there and let it wash over him. He thrusts against Geralt’s hold as he bobs his head faster, tonguing Jaskier’s slit in a way that makes his eyes roll back. Shit but it’s good, and Geralt is so focused, Jaskier is losing his mind--

He’s looking down at where his dick is disappearing inside of Geralt’s stretched lips, and then Geralt lifts his mouth off of Jaskier’s cock, and their eyes meet. And he’s looking at Jaskier like he always does, with heat and affection and wonder, and Jaskier’s ears are roaring and his chest is bursting and his traitor mouth opens and he says, “Gods, I love you.”

Geralt’s eyes go wide, soft and shocked, and Jaskier immediately feels something cold wash over him. He can’t back out of this, he knows already. It was too earnest, too raw. If he’d said it when Geralt’s mouth had been on him maybe they could have dismissed it in the heat of passion, but he didn’t. Geralt is staring at him, mouth agape, lips still red from how they’d been stretched around Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier closes his eyes, not willing to look while Geralt gently turns him away.

But suddenly there are lips on his, and Jaskier opens his eyes with a gasp as Geralt plunders his mouth relentlessly. He kisses back - he’s powerless not to - and then Geralt is pulling away again, only to gasp out, “Do you? Do you mean it?”

Jaskier falls still for a moment, and Geralt meets his gaze as he waits for a response, clearly nervous. “I-- Of course I fucking mean it. Do you want me to mean it?” He feels like he’s going to shatter apart from how anxiety wars with hope in his chest, threatening to turn him into a wasteland. Geralt just reaches up a hand and slides it up Jaskier’s neck until he’s cradling his cheek.

“Yeah,” he says, and then presses a helpless kiss to Jaskier’s lips, painful and earnest. “Me too. Didn’t think you would feel the same.”

Jaskier pulls away again to stare Geralt in the face, shock a soft blow against his fragile heart. “I’ve loved you for years,” is all he can think to say.

Geralt makes a pained noise and then they’re kissing again, and this time they don’t stop. Geralt presses down until they’re one long line of heat, touching from shoulder to hip, legs slotted easily together. They rut against each other until Jaskier grows tired of the rough friction and reaches down to push Geralt’s trousers out of the way, taking them both in hand. Geralt’s hand doesn’t leave his face, and they don’t stop kissing, not until they’re both too worked up for anything more than panting against each other’s mouths.

Geralt slips his head down and presses his nose back to Jaskier’s jaw, breathing him in. “Smell so good,” he stutters out, “like me, like you’re mine, Jask, fuck I’m close--”

“Yeah, yes,” Jaskier says over him, canting his hips up as he moves his hand faster. “Love you, I love you, come on.”

Geralt goes still above him, a high whine leaving his throat as he grinds down into Jaskier’s hand, burying his face in the warmth of Jaskier’s shoulder, his spend coating Jaskier’s fingers and dripping onto his stomach. Jaskier works him until his shuddering stops, and then Geralt reaches down a hand to still him. Jaskier lets out a soft ah at the pause, but soon Geralt’s hand replaces his own and he’s thrusting wildly up into a familiar, calloused palm. Geralt shifts to the side slightly, and Jaskier turns his face to follow him, desperate to be as close as he can. “Geralt,” he begs, nearly a sob.

“I’ve got you,” Geralt promises, and that’s it, he’s done. He clenches his teeth as the first crest of pleasure overtakes him, and Geralt slowly wrings out everything he has until Jaskier collapses back into the mattress, gasping and oversensitive.

They lie there for a few moments, just catching their breath in the quiet room. It’s darker now, the sun beyond the little window finally conceding to the cool night. Deep purple shadows fill the valleys of Geralt’s body, and Jaskier unthinkingly reaches out to trace across the edge of one. He lets the simple sensation calm his racing heart enough to say, “We should probably talk about it.”

“Probably,” Geralt hums, and then he reaches out and hauls Jaskier to him, pressing their sweaty, come-sticky bodies together. Jaskier makes a face, and he feels Geralt’s laugh more than he hears it. “In the morning,” he says, and Jaskier sighs, letting himself relax into the embrace.

“Alright,” he agrees. “In the morning.”

He lets his eyes fluttering shut, his head falling to rest on Geralt’s shoulder, arm slung over his stomach. It’s peaceful, and Geralt is warm and firm in all the right places, and he’s nearly asleep when Geralt speaks again.

“Me too,” he murmurs into the dark, pressing the words into Jaskier’s skin like a kiss. “I love you too.”

Jaskier smiles, and he falls into a dreamless sleep.

#geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #witcher #witcher fic #fic #fanfic #writing #my work #prompts #grey #merry