#i am not sure if i am just very paranoid now but i feel like they are overwriting his voice on phone calls too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neocentral · 19 days

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Rating: 18+. mdni. Pairing: Park Jisung x Reader Synopsis: The night Jisung had longed for didn't go as planned, leaving him clueless and confused. Feeling desperate, Jisung decided to confront you. Word Count: 5.6k Trigger Warnings: noncon, manipulation, very brief self-harm mention (skin picking), recreational drug use (marijuana) Smut Warnings: unprotected sex, loss of virginity, biting, slight scent kink Warning: My tags are not exhaustive. Proceed at your own discretion. Note: I don't usually write full-length fics so feedback and comments are appreciated! Wonbin version (I am riizeblr!)

You weren’t answering.

It had been three days since he had seen you and all that came after was missed phone calls and text messages left on delivered. You couldn’t even be bothered to open them. Jisung didn’t get it. What had he done wrong? You were being so cruel to him, especially after he had bared his heart to you days ago, left himself vulnerable and at your mercy. And now, you were making Jisung feel unwanted.

You acted like it was unexpected, something Jisung also failed to understand. There was nothing unexpected about any of this. Jisung had been scattering hints left and right since he met you. Back when the two of you were experiencing the unfortunate changes of puberty, brace-faced and skin littered with blemishes. But even then Jisung knew there would never be anyone he would want more than you. And you had been reciprocating.

You had stuck by Jisung through everything. You complimented and consoled him when he was too afraid of his daily contacts and he walked around with his cracked lenses for weeks before he got his hands on new glasses that were just as unflattering. You defended him angrily, tripping the boy who had teased Jisung’s lanky stature during gym, making sure to laugh louder than anyone else on the field when his nose met the ground. You had jumped into his arms as he dropped his matching admissions letter onto your desk, your smile bigger than his while you expressed your excitement of experiencing the world alongside him.

That was why the lack of responses left Jisung in the dark, escaping into the depths of his mind trying to piece together what happened. The night was perfect for Jisung—all of it. The setbacks didn’t feel like much to him knowing that things had undoubtedly changed that night, outweighing the certain struggle that had occurred.

Clearly, you didn’t feel the same.

Jisung threw his head back, banging it against the plush headrest of his car, exasperated and exhausted. He hadn’t slept since that night. His bed suddenly felt much too big and his body felt much too cold without you. Jisung tossed and turned, rubbing his puffy eyes as he stared at the ceiling for hours until he couldn’t take it and he picked up his phone again to text you, hoping you’d finally respond.

He sighed, feeling his lip twitch while he opened his messages, staring back at only a fraction of his pathetic pleading for your attention.

Today 2:46AM

Jisung: are you feeling okay?

Missed Call (2) 2:58AM

Today 6:47AM

Jisung: you aren’t answering me…

Missed Call 9:17PM

Today 12:46PM

Jisung: love :(

Missed Call (3) 1:18PM

Today 1:27PM

Jisung: ???

Missed Call (6) 5:58PM

Today 6:14PM

Jisung: pick up the phone y/n

Today 7:24PM

Jisung: this is getting kinda old now, don’t you think?

Today 8:01PM

Jisung: hello???

Today 9:34PM

Jisung: 🙄

Delivered.

Jisung blinked at his screen, a thumb hovering over the keyboard again. His other hand sat on his steering wheel, fingers anxiously tapping. He looked up. All the lights in your apartment building were dimmed, but he knew you were awake. You never slept this early, growing paranoid as your neighbors slept. The silence made you anxious. The mental image of darkened hallways and the flickering lights in the elevator. The emergency door was broken too, left ajar and unwatched. Jisung had advised you to move out, sending link after link about vacant apartments in his building.

You’ll be safe near me… I won't let anything happen to you.

You always dismissed him. You couldn’t afford an apartment on his side of town on your own and he knew that, but something inside him wanted to tempt you into asking him to save you in some way. It’s not like you hadn’t asked him before. You used to call Jisung to keep you company over the phone. You would tell him how comforting his voice was, his steady breathing calming your heart. Jisung wondered if you were still scared. Who else would you call? Jisung didn’t like where his mind took him.

Is this how you felt? All those nights alone in your rundown home, alone and surrounded by silence. Jisung wondered what it would feel like to be comforted by you, this time. After the words exchanged that night you should be more than willing. But then again, he wouldn’t be feeling this way if it weren’t for you.

Slender fingers hovered over his keyboard.

Today 10:33PM

Jisung: pick up the pho|

Jisung: I’m serious y/n|

Jisung: I’m running out of patie|

No.

Jisung: you won’t like what I’m about to do|

Jisung bit his lip, eyeing the words he typed without hesitation. What would he do? He blinked as an idea flashed in his mind.

No. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Jisung: please don’t make me|

Jisung: please don’t ma|

Jisung: please d|

Jisung: ple|

Jisung swallowed. Would he?

Today 10:34PM

Jisung: you’re being incredibly immature.

Minutes passed and Jisung felt ridiculous for feeling dejected at the unchanging delivered. He didn’t know what he was expecting. He sighed again and slipped out of his car, kicking loose gravel and glancing over his shoulder as he pressed a button on his keys, watching the headlights flash as the doors locked. Once. Twice. He sniffled, the freezing wind making his nose run, catching him off-guard despite seeing the condensation fogging his windows throughout the hours he spent in his car.

The metal box of the keypad was even colder. He hurried as he entered the code on the keypad to let himself inside. He doubted it would take much to enter even if he didn’t have the passcode. Jisung paused, shaking his hair out of his eyes, what if something had happened to you? What if you were right the entire time and there truly was something lurking in the halls? A farfetched theory, but he still found himself feeling guilty for growing frustrated by you.

The trek up to your door was familiar. The walk that would leave him feeling giddy whenever you decided phone calls weren’t enough, but this time, his heart clenched. Each step he took made him feel like he was walking closer and closer to something he wasn’t prepared for.

The wood on the edges of your front door was chipped and the layer of paint thrown on top was streaky and thin. Jisung raised his fist, three confident knocks placed to the center. Jisung took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders as he waited for the rattle of your weathered copper doorknob.

Nothing.

Today 10:58PM

Jisung: I’m outside

Read 10:58PM

Jisung’s breath hitched in his throat. The desperation to speak to you, and clarify the events of that night amplified. He tapped his foot.

Jisung: open the door

Read 10:59PM

Jisung sighed, eyes flickering from the dim screen of his phone to the peeling paint of your front door.

Jisung: please?

Jisung: ?

If it weren’t for the breath caught in his throat, Jisung wouldn’t have heard the light padding of socked feet against the wooden floors. He doesn’t know how you do it. It was impressive that you had adapted to the subpar condition until you learned how to navigate your apartment in total silence, avoiding every loose wooden panel, light on your feet that were never missing cutely patterned socks. Jisung can see the thick fluffy socks in his mind, their lining protecting your precious feet from the cold ground.

Jisung was the opposite. It was like he couldn’t get away from the weak spots. His feet made an ugly creak bounce off the walls as he gave you a sheepish look. You smiled and told him you didn’t mind, unafraid of a little noise with him around. It made Jisung feel good to hear you say that. Each time, his heart swelled even bigger.

“I can hear you,” Jisung said, cheek hovering next to the door. “C’mon… let me in.”

He knew you could hear the pout in his words. You knew him well enough to know what he was feeling without him needing to tell you. He knew you just as well, at least, he thought he did. He was still baffled by this entire situation, lost and confused.

Jisung waited and still, nothing.

Jisung felt his eyes narrow and a thump in his heart. “Open the goddamn door, y/n.” He scoffed, “don’t you think I deserve some sort of explanation? At least give me that much.”

“Jisung?” you said, nothing above a whisper.

Jisung felt his breath leave his lungs. Your voice. God, he missed your sweet voice. “Yeah,” a small smile of relief lifted the corners of his lips, “it’s me… open up so we can talk, okay?”

His teeth caught his bottom lip as he waited, trying to calm his nerves. This time, the familiar rattle met his ears. The copper doorknob began to twist after a few harsh pulls. Jisung used to joke about you getting locked in, a teasing grin directed at you as he told you that not all monsters lurk outside.

Jisung saw your hands first. Your nails were coated with chipped nail polish, the same color you had been wearing the last time he saw you. They were a soft pink, the shade doing wonders for the melanin in your skin. But, you had been anxiously picking at the skin around your fingernails, some bits pulled too far, leaving your fingers littered with sore, exposed flesh. It was one of your worst habits, one that Jisung actively tried to control. When his usual tactics failed to work, he would sometimes offer his own hands. He let you pick and pull on his sensitive skin just so you wouldn’t hurt your precious digits. Jisung grazed his fingertips, feeling nothing but unharmed skin.

His eyes followed the trail of your arm as it came into view, covered in the material of an old long-sleeve that you wore almost daily in high school. Jisung had fond memories of the time. Dimmed lights and hushed voices late into the night at weekly sleepovers, secrets shared beneath blankets, or morning strolls to school with a warm cup of hot chocolate Jisung had prepared held in your gloved hands.

Jisung almost gasped when he saw your face. His heart clenched, his hands itching to reach for you and pull you close. He wanted to pull you against his chest, letting you hear the steady beat of his heart to soothe you until you finally hugged him back, gripping his shirt like he would slip away. Jisung would never dream of doing such a thing.

Jisung observed your under-eyes, the skin weighted and dark in color. Even the shade of your irises looked dulled. It was clear you hadn’t gotten any rest, much like Jisung. You probably sat awake all night, brain wandering to Jisung’s skin like his did yours. You looked at him, pupils flickering around his face that didn’t look any better than yours. The effects of being apart were apparent. You needed Jisung as much as he needed you. Perhaps this time apart made you realize that.

You blinked slowly, lashes fluttering and brushing against your swollen cheeks. Your lips puckered, teeth beginning to nibble on the inside of your cheek. Another terrible habit. Jisung wanted to kiss you, distract your restless mouth with his tongue. He wouldn’t mind, already feeling deprived of the taste of your tongue.

He lifted his hand, ghosting it over your chin. You recoiled immediately, moving your face from reach. Jisung swallowed. “You’ll hurt yourself, love.”

“I know,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

Jisung knew what you were apologizing for. You were apologizing for gnawing on your cheek, not for all the pain you had caused him. That is what you should be remorseful about. His tears, his stress, his confusion.

“It’s okay,” his voice was soft, movements slow as he stepped into your home. “The last few days have been hard for both of us.” Jisung kicked off his shoes, gaze fixed on your face that held an unfamiliar expression. “Things will be better now that we’re together.” He approached you slowly, hands lifted to show that he was no harm to you. Jisung would never hurt you.

You looked down, fiddling with your harmed fingers. Jisung heard you draw a breath. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

Jisung’s mouth felt dry, his heart felt heavy in his chest, and his brain paused, “what?”

Your lips wobbled, the breaths through your nose short and rough. “I can’t… I don’t,” you exhaled through your mouth, soothing yourself this time. “I don't want to see you anymore.”

It was Jisung’s turn to be silent. What do you mean? Why don’t you want to see him? What had he done wrong? What had changed? Aside from the obvious inevitable progression of your relationship. It was bound to happen, surely you knew that.

“Love,” Jisung began.

“Stop calling me that!” you snapped.

Jisung tutted. He had always called you “love,” it was nothing new. It was second nature to him and you had never commented on it before, you simply responded like he had called you by your name. To Jisung you were love. You were his love.

“Okay. Y/n,” he emphasized, “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say here. What do you mean you don’t want to see me anymore?”

Your eyes turned glossy when you looked at him, voice shaky, “you hurt me.”

Jisung frowned, “no, I didn’t. I would never. You know that.”

Your next words were hardly audible but your eyes were blazing. “I didn’t want you.”

Jisung couldn’t deny that it stung to hear you say that. That night had been so beautiful. Perfect. An unforgettable memory Jisung’s entire being wished to recreate.

The stars were high in the sky that night, and the noises of the city were inaudible as endless trees surrounded Jisung’s car. You were huddled in the backseat– together like you always had been and always will be– giggling uncontrollably with a stolen blunt in between his slender fingers. Jisung liked you best when you laughed. When you didn’t hold back the cheerful shifts of your face, when you didn’t cover your mouth to withhold your precious laughter.

Jisung held the blunt to your plush lips, raising a dark eyebrow to signal you to inhale the burning plant. You giggled one final time, placing your hand atop his knee as you leaned in, red-tinted pout wrapping around it. Jisung tried to look away from your lips but he was only met with the sight of your hazy eyes and heavy lids blinking up at him. You inhaled deeply, fingers pushing into his knee as you pulled away. Your fingers pushed into his leg as you held the smoke in your lungs, releasing a slow, teasing stream into his face. Jisung coughed, waving his hand in front of his face as you continued to laugh, face still close to his.

He wanted to kiss you so badly. You looked ethereal under the faint stereo light, a golden cast lighting one side of your pretty face as the other was painted with a starry blue hue. It was quiet aside from the instrumental buzz of Jisung’s playlist and the sizzle of burning bud. Then, Jisung’s breath as his heart began to thump. The longer he stared at your mouth the more his lips craved to touch yours that hovered so closely.

Before he knew it, his lips pressed against yours. It was nothing more than a fleeting peck, a graze of pouty lips against one another. Still, Jisung felt his heart flip, the drug-induced weightlessness flowing through his body made worse by his vibrating lips.

He couldn’t pinpoint the expression on your face when he finally managed to open his eyes but Jisung swears your eyes were conveying the same burning lust as his. What else could it be?

Cupping your face, Jisung pulled you flush to his puckered lips. He savored the feeling of your soft lips against his, every dry crack, and tasting remnants of strawberry lip balm. You had gifted Jisung the extra that came in the pack of two, playfully pinching his lips as you handed it to him. You need it, you’d said. You go around kissing girls like that? Jisung only laughed, keeping his head in place for you to hold for as long as you wanted. He never used it, leaving it in the center console for you to use when you got in his car as if you owned it, like everything that was his was yours. Jisung liked seeing the way you applied it, carefully circling your mouth with precision.

Jisung’s tongue carefully flicked your lip, thumb brushing your cheek as he did so. He still felt your hand on his knee, so close yet so far from where he craved your touch.

He caught your tongue when you began to speak. Words Jisung will never hear were swallowed by his eager mouth that took the opportunity to roam the inside of yours. He could taste it all, saliva tainted with the flavor of weed and the unfinished package of gummy worms you had carelessly thrown behind you after Jisung offered you another hit.

He moaned against your lips as he moved his touch to your hips, desperation getting the best of him. He yanked on your sides until you rested on his thighs, warm and soft and weighted. His hands roamed your sides, slipping up and down your frame as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling experimentally. Jisung whined, pleased with the sharp pain.

The sound seemed to take you out of whatever mindset you were in as you began to pull away from his kiss. Jisung, however, couldn’t get himself to stop. His lips traveled along your jaw and down the line of your neck, licking away the salty sweat caused by the heater Jisung had forgotten to turn off. He moaned against you, nosing at the wet kisses he left behind, hoping that by inhaling deep enough, he could smell himself on your skin.

You whimpered when Jisung nibbled on your collarbone. Your hands found his hair again, “Ji…”

Jisung shivered, cock slowly filling with blood after hearing the shake in your voice. Unable to control himself, Jisung sank his teeth into the side of your throat.

You jumped, pulling away from him. “Ouch,” you frowned, delicate fingertips ghosting over the area.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he breathed. Your lips were puffy and Jisung felt his dick pulse. “C’mere,” he mumbled, running his fingers along the hem of your shirt.

You placed your hands on his, “I don’t think this is a good idea…”

Jisung hummed, leaning in until his nose touched your chest, “yes, it is. C’mon, baby.” He inhaled your scent, “kiss me just a little bit.”

“No,” you squirmed, “we’re friends, Ji.”

“Friends like us kiss,” he reasoned absentmindedly. “Friends like us kiss and touch each other,” his touch slipped under your top, “make each other feel good. Make me feel better… I’ve waited so long.”

Jisung’s fingers reached the wire of your bra, pulling it up so he could slip his hand underneath. He cupped your breasts, groaning while pushing his face deeper into your chest, “so long.”

You shivered, “stop.”

Jisung didn’t, instead, he pulled your shirt up and over your tits, yanking on your bra until it stretched above your chest. Jisung finally opened his eyes, shaking his hair from his face as he stared at the swells of your chest, watching your nipples harden, aimed at his mouth like they were asking him to kiss and suck and pinch.

You gasped as his warm mouth wrapped around one of the stiffened buds, gently sucking. You weakly pushed at his shoulder, “too far… this is too far.”

Jisung felt his pants tighten further, cock straining in his underwear. You writhed on his lap, unsure if you wanted to pull your chest away from his lips or press yourself against his pretty face.

He pulled on the string of his sweats, untying the loose fabric and pushing it down his thighs hurriedly. “No,” he said, leaving a wet kiss on the valley between your tits while his fingers crept closer to your skirt, “not too far. It’s not too far. It’s okay, okay?”

You jolted, recoiling at the sensation of his dripping head against your clothed folds. “No! Too far. Let me go.”

Jisung made a sound, pained and slightly hurt by your resistance. “I can’t. I need you. Look…” You didn’t. You couldn’t. You couldn’t face the dim sight of Jisung’s cock standing tall against his toned stomach, leaking and ready to push inside your velvet walls as his eager fingers worked to push your thin panties to the side, exposing you to the warm air.

You shook your head, weak from the marijuana coursing through your veins. “I’m not ready,” you whimpered.

Jisung hadn’t thought much about the comment at the time, too focused on aligning his cock to your hole. You were too sensitive, dripping from brief nipple stimulation. You clung to Jisung as he pushed inside you, tense and shaking your head against his long hair, whimpering. You hissed, nails pushing into his shirt, mumbling in pain. But Jisung couldn’t bring himself to care, too entranced by the tight squeeze around his dick, your body pressed against his, your searing breath, whimpers, and whines brushing past his ear.

Jisung should have known. A part of him feels guilty, but another feels smug, proud, and satisfied knowing that he was the first to defile you. Tucked into the backseat of his car, warm, high, and loving.

He hoped you could feel it. The love in the help he offered as he made you ride him, the love in every thrust when he couldn’t take the slow pace and he laid you down, fixing your messy hair until it left your pretty face. Your wet face. Jisung told himself it was sweat that covered it. It was tears from feeling too good. Tears of joy. Anything but what he knew it was.

Though, none of that mattered now.

Now you stood in front of him, a fiery film over your devastated gaze. You crossed your arms over your chest, holding onto your shoulders, concealing yourself. Your hair was out of place, your face was devoid of makeup and weighed down by dark circles, and your lips were bitten raw. The same lips that wrapped around every syllable of the statement Jisung can’t get himself to believe.

I didn’t want you.

Jisung chuckled, the noise devoid of amusement. “Sure, you didn’t.”

Jisung watched your chest inflate as you inhaled, glancing at the wall behind his head and avoiding his eyes as they looked for yours. “I told you I wasn’t ready. You just took it from me.”

Jisung paused. It. You couldn’t even say the word of what he had claimed. Not taken. Claimed. It had always belonged to Jisung. Your virginity. Your innocence. Purity. Whatever you wanted to call it. It all meant the same thing. Jisung had gotten the prize he craved for years, shooting his spent into your clean cunt, cream reaching far inside you, filled to the brim with him. Your precious cunt had received him so well, too. Your body knew what your mind didn’t. You wanted him.

“I know that’s what you said, but-”

Your eyes snapped towards him, looking at Jisung incredulously. “So you did hear me? You just chose to ignore me? To…” you paused, the roll of an “r” dying on your tongue. “You chose to take advantage of me?”

Jisung frowned.

Your lips wobbled, “I was scared.”

“Maybe at first.”

“Excuse me?”

Jisung sighed, “you creamed around me, baby. You squeezed me so tight I could hardly move. You cried for me. Milked me dry.” Jisung licked his lips, the memory flashing behind his eyes as he blinked, “you wanted me.”

Your lips parted, closed, then parted again. Jisung could see the way your brain turned as you looked at him, but again, he couldn’t figure out what thoughts went through your mind.

Jisung took slow steps towards you, wood creaking beneath his feet, “I know you still think about it.” He reached for your face, “how good it felt to be so full.”

You turned your face, removing Jisung’s touch. He reached for your hair instead, pushing it over your shoulder. “My cock fit inside you perfectly, didn’t it?” he tilted his head, slowly inching close to the crook of your neck, nose brushing against the surface. Jisung inhaled deeply, your scent made his eyes flutter shut. Your damp skin dripping with the smell of your sweet musk and body wash.

You said nothing, breath hitching as Jisung’s tongue flattened against your neck, licking. You squirmed, raising your shoulder towards the side of your face, hands ghosting over his chest, but your intention was clear. “Jisung, please.”

Glancing away from you, Jisung huffed. His eyes found the pictures lining your walls, stagnant memories framed for all to see. Most of them featured Jisung. His favorite picture was meticulously arranged in the middle – Jisung’s doing, of course – the first picture to capture the attention of all who observed the crowded wall.

Jisung’s arms were wrapped around your middle, his head rested on your shoulder. His hair was longer then, tangled with yours as the wind blew ruthlessly. Jisung remembered how cold it was, the ocean sending cold air in waves that made bumps rise along your skin. Your smile was as wide as his, eyes bright and beaming as you looked into the camera.

“I love you.”

Jisung kept his eyes on the picture as he waited.

“I do, too, Jisung.”

“No,” he shook his head. He faced you, cradling your face between his hands again. “I love you.”

“Jisung,” Your shoulders sag, your gaze dropping to the floor, “please don’t make me say it.”

“Then don’t.” A lump rose to Jisung’s throat, “Don’t. Because you do.”

“I don’t,” you whispered, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye. “I’m sorry but I don’t.”

Jisung felt his heart drop, “you do. I can prove it.”

His plump lips moved towards yours, his hold on your face lifting it. Your lips wobbled as he inched closer, scorching breath fanning his face, “please, don’t do this again.”

The words made Jisung pause. You knew his intentions. The act of love was on your mind too. Only now, Jisung knew it wasn’t in the way he would have hoped. What was a tarnished memory in your mind was one close to perfection in his. Your mind still betrayed you, telling you that none of this was supposed to happen. Jisung was meant to sit on the sidelines, watching as you stomped all over his heart until his last dying breath because you were unable to see what was there. The comforting and magnetic air that flowed between you and him, uniting you.

Jisung had only done something about it. It was unintentional, truly. Jisung hadn’t meant for any of it to happen but it still had. Everything worked in favor of your unbreakable bond. Your bodies had fit together like puzzle pieces, perfectly made for one another. Jisung would be damned if he let that get away. Especially now when it was inevitable that you would never want to see him again. You already told him so. What you and Jisung had would be thrown away, discarded like none of it ever mattered.

Jisung had to show you how great it would be. No matter what lengths he had to go through to do it.

He had never thought of hurting you before. He never wanted to. But a sick part of his mind knew he had to. His body moved on autopilot like he subconsciously knew what he had to do. He was capable of what he never thought was possible.

Unlike the first time, the kiss Jisung placed on your lips was anything but gentle. His insatiable hunger led his lips as they moved against yours. He pushed himself against you, trailing his fingers down your shoulders. Your teeth clashed with his, desperation consuming him as he grazed your tits. His tongue slithered into your mouth, running across your teeth as his hands cupped your chest. Your mouth fell open as you gasped, giving Jisung access. His pink muscle slid against yours, the sensation making you recoil as you attempted to get away. A small whimper sounded through the room when your head thudded against the wall behind your head. Jisung chased your mouth, a moan muffled by your connected lips.

Jisung sank his teeth into your lower lip as he pulled away, moving his attention to your neck. “Jisung, please. We can talk about it,” your words were shaky and he felt the hitch in your throat under his lips.

“We already did,” he sighed, leaving pecks on your throat. “You won’t listen.”

“I will!” you said. “I promise I will! I’ll hear you out this time just please,” you flinched as Jisung groped your breasts, “don’t touch me again.”

“You won’t understand,” he mumbled, nosing at your shoulder, “but your body knows.”

His touch inched toward your pants, pulling the elastic as he slipped his hands inside. Your cunt was as warm as he remembered, soft and puffy against his palm as the pads of his digits dragged along your slit. Sticky wetness leaked from your hole. Jisung groaned deeply, nibbling at your clothed shoulder, “you’re so wet for me.”

You sniffled, thighs pressing together as he tried to insert a long finger. You shook your head, the action ruffling his hair. Jisung moved his knee, lodging it between yours. Your legs opened, giving him the freedom to move his hands the way he pleased. Your hole fluttered against his knuckle as he shoved it inside you, your gummy walls sucking him in.

“That hurts, Ji, please,” your chest heaved with every word.

“I know,” he whispered, “but I have to stretch you out first. You’ll be okay, my love, I promise.”

Jisung sucked on your neck as he inserted another finger, using light nibbles to distract you from the stretch in your core. He slid them in and out, pulling them apart to stretch you further. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, sucking him deeper. Jisung felt his cock jump against his pants, reminding him of the fire in his stomach and the desperation to feel you squeezing his hard dick.

Your sweatpants fell off easily, hitting the floor with a dull thud. Jisung was quick with his pants, shoving them down his thighs just as he had the first time, only this time, they also fell to the ground, his belt buckle loud against the wooden floor.

He caught your eyes, seeing the way they widened as he pumped his cock, his intention clear in his features as he watched you. Resistance followed, pushes and squirms against him only serving to make him harder. Your chest rubbed against his, fabric still between you but Jisung didn’t care. Your pelvis curved forward in an attempt to push him away but instead, your bare cunt slid along his shaft.

Jisung hissed, gripping your hips with one of his hands, pushing you into the wall behind you. His cock dripped with precum, the substance allowing Jisung’s fist to easily glide up and down his length.

Eager, he guided his cock towards your heat, using his leaking head to circle your swollen clit. A moan wrestled its way out of your throat, your arms stopping their flailing as he pushed his cock between your folds, quickly finding your fluttering hole that called for him.

“Stop it,” you said, attempting to sound firm but your voice still shook.

Jisung simply shook his head, forcing the head of his cock inside you. He moaned loudly, bliss surging through his being with every inch he pushed into you. You cried out, the muscles of your thighs shaking in exertion around his hips. He kissed your neck again, biting harshly as he began to thrust in and out.

Your fighting picked up, punches and scratches landing on his back but they all went ignored as Jisung lost himself in the feeling he had missed and craved so deeply. Your head banged against the wall in frustration, and helplessness as Jisung rutted into you. The sounds that left his mouth were animalistic, his mental clarity making the euphoric squeeze even better.

Jisung couldn’t resist nosing at the sore flesh that you scrubbed raw the second you stepped into your apartment again. Despair and frustration fueled the aggressive drags of a washcloth along your skin. The scent had begun to fade, melting into the aroma of natural musk and slight neglect. Jisung relished in it, unknowingly making his thrusts pick up speed.

Finally, your body seized beneath him, the muscles along your body tightening. Your legs finally stopped kicking, your nails dragging across his back until they fell limp at your sides. Jisung lifted his face, hips stilling as he leaned towards you until his nose touched yours. “Keep cumming sweet girl,” He grinned, eyes fixed on your face. “See?”

#tw noncon #tw marijuana #tw skin picking #screenplay…#starring... jisung !#jisung x reader #jisung smut #nct x reader #nct smut #dark!jisung #dark!nct #dark!kpop #yandere!jisung #yandere!kpop #nct #nct dream #jisung

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akutasoda · 2 months

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I saw your requests are open so here I am! The fandom is BSD and the characters are Fyodor, Akutagawa, Yosano and Jouno (if thats not too many). Reader and them are not offically in a relationship! Reader nonchalantly brings up that their being stalked, not quite realizing the weight of their situation. What are the characters going to do about it?

never alone

synopsis - how would they react when you casually mentioned you might be being stalked

includes - yosano, akutagawa, fyodor, jouno

warnings - gn!reader, reader gets stalked, slight angst, fluff, wc - 1.3k

nowadays you always felt like something was wrong. your nomral everyday routine had an addition to it which made you uncomfortable and made you feel vulnerable. it always felt like a pair of eyes were trained onto your figure at every waking minute of the day.

the figure that you regularly saw was definitely new. it was only a handful of times but there was no way that all the times were pure coincidence? right? and why would the figure stop or turn away when you turned to check they were still following you?

after a very short while it started making you really uncomfortable. it felt like you were being constantly watched and you could no longer focus on anything else as it worried you. but truth be told you didn't know what to do. you felt like you should tell someone but you didn't want them to think you were just being paranoid and you didn't think it was that serious, so you shrugged it to the back of your mind and let it slowly eat away atyour conscience.

eventually you let it spill and you told your most trusted friend about your worries. it was an accident to start with, like you were telling a joke, so you came of very nonchalantly but they didn't take it so lightly.

akiko yosano ★↷

what had started as one of your many friendly catch-ups with yosano had now turned into a very troubling conversation. you and yosano would practically meet everyday if you didn't see eachother throughout and because you both were extremely close you two would often spill secrets or gossip.

when you casually mentioned that you thought you might be being stalked her face dropped immediately. you felt the air tense from the normally friendly atmosphere and you really only registered what you said when she asked you to repeat yourself. that's sort of when you let it all out as you finally felt you had someone to talk to about it.

her face only became visibly more concerned but she would patiently wait for you to finish telling her about every little detail. once you had finished, you felt like a weight had been lifted but immediately replaced as you then realised the situation fully.

yosano noted your current concerns and immediately offered help, help you knew she wouldn't let you refuse. she worked in a detective agency afterall, sure they dealt with more aggressive cases but stalking wouldn't be turned down especially if it was you who was suffering.

she offered to walk you home herself afterwards and that would be the first time in ages you didn't feel those eyes on you. it would also be the last as from the next day you noted that you never felt them again.

ryūnosuke akutagawa ★↷

you often would talk to akutagawa during or after a mission. he wasn't exactly talkative but you never minded and still found his company rather comforting - some may call you crazy for thinking that. and lately being in his presence made you much more comfortable as it no longer felt like you were being watched.

akutagawa may struggle with many things to do with friendships and such but he wasn't entirely dumb to not notice your recent constant discomfort. he could recognise that something was troubling you, especially when he caught your eyes frantically looking around if you were alone, and so he asked what was wrong - you were being rather distant on the current mission.

you nonchalantly mentioned about your growing discomfort and worry about someone following you constantly, you couldn't tell but his face dropped with a certain seriousness. you didn't realise and so you went to act as everything was normally but he stopped you and asked you to repeat yourself. the seriousness is his voice was something you've never heard.

he eventually got you to explain everything to him and while he didn't show anything on his face, you knew he was mad and that's when the weight of the situation dropped on you. from that day forward akutagawa made it a point to walk you anywhere. you're going home? he'll accompany you, you're heading to the shops? he needs to pick some stuff up anyway.

sometimes it felt overbearing but you knew why he was doing it and eventually after a couple of days he stopped. you really didn't have to ask about why you didn't feel watched anymore, you knew the fate akutagawa had given someone.

fyodor dostoevsky ★↷

fyodor had once told you that you were one of few he would properly engage in conversation with. most of the time that meant you telling him about your day while he chimed in with the occasional hum or question while he worked at his desk - he did barely do physical missions.

you had been busy telling him about something that you'd done that day ehile you were out and so your brain immediately went to talk about how uncomfortable you had been feeling when going anywhere. you hadn't noticed at first but fyodor stopped typing when he asked you to elaborate. what you did notice was him turning to look at you fully when you elaborated.

you let out an awkward laugh and asked if something was wrong and he immediately started asking questions. you didn't quite understand but the seriousness soon became emphasised when he offered that you stay with him that night and you really didn't want to say no after seeing how angry he seemed to be.

you would come to wake up the next morning to a nornal fyodor. he'd greet you and he seemed back to his normal self and if you asked about last night he'd justt deny anything. you would note how for the first time in ages you didn't feel like you were being constantly watched.

saigiku jouno ★↷

if time was available, you would often head round to jouno's residence to see him. it was atleast once a week so it served as a catch-up between the two of you, most of the time he was extremely busy and saw your company as a reminder to finally take a break.

you two would often spend ages talking about whatever thing that had occurred that week and it was a real safespace for you. so it was only natural that you casually mentioned how you always felt watched. you had been fiddling with your cup so you hadn't noticed jouno's face sour.

you only noticed when he asked you to elaborate and you did without second thought. jouno didn't like the fact that you had mentioned it so casually. he was a hunting dog, a morally gray one perhaps but still, he protects people and so he would be failing his duties of he couldn't protect you. it shocked you with how fast jouno was to offer you to stay round his residence that night.

you didn't say no as he seemed very dead set on you staying. when you woke and got ready to leave, he accompanied you back to your residence despite your questions about if he had work to get to. the next time you were to see jouno he seemed rather smug but you immediately told him about how you didn't feel followed anymore he only smiled more and told you that he was glad you felt safe again.

#x reader #x gender neutral reader #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x you #bsd yosano #yosano x reader #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #bsd jouno #jouno x reader

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jade-len · 4 months

Text

i adore how mxtx sorta flipped the idea on the whole top/bottom thing with svsss, and just BL relationships in general.

making bingqiu very open to switching, not making the "bottom" super feminine and actually leaning more to the handsome side compared to the "top", how luo binghe is manipulative sensitive and cries easily, etc. one of the main themes in svsss is literally about sexuality (and possibly even about gender roles).

as a queer asian man myself, i absolutely despise the "yaoi archetype" and it was one of the reasons why i avoided consuming BL media. hell, years ago when i first saw heavens official blessing, i mentally groaned and went, "ugh, let me guess, the bottom is super feminine and innocent, while the top is masculine and experienced." of course, that's not the case now, but it's disappointing how that thought was there purely because of the god awful way fetish-y media portrays homosexual people and couples. because, believe it or not, we are not assigned male/female typical gender roles just because one likes to top/bottom (and even then, it's not even like that! some people have preferences, sure, but it's not so strictly "i'm top/bottom")

so, while i absolutely LOVE the english novel designs (especially luo binghe's cute curly hair, gongyi xiao, etc, and personally believe a lot of the takes from the western artist on the designs are an improvement), i am greatly saddened by people subconsciously assigning shen qingqiu as someone more delicate and feminine and luo binghe as someone super masculine and muscly. like, if you're going to have luo binghe depicted as the western design (i believe this stems from binghe being applied to more western ideals for men, and, admittedly, i actually really love his design), at least don't make shen qingqiu feminine and delicate? don't have his appearance play into the stupid yaoi thing?

i get that people have different takes on svsss, especially how the western version depicts it. but, people just... seem to very over exaggerate the top/bottom roles when it comes to bingqiu (again, these two are, canonically, VERY open to switching).

it's weird, it's uncomfortable, and it comes across as, "so, who wears the pants in the relationship?"

so, can we please have more canonically handsome shen qingqiu? canonically beautiful and pretty boy luo binghe (they literallly state that binghe looks EXACTLY like his mom, su xiyan! while a more handsome woman, is still very beautiful!! plus it is stated several times that binghe is slim, and that shang qinghua made him that way!) or at the very least, a BL couple who actually look like normal people (ok thats a little hard considering binghe is literally supposed to be perfect) and not just a stupid fetishized version of themselves.

and no, i'm not saying that queer men shouldn't be feminine or men who are feminine shouldn't be in a relationship with guys who are masculine, etc.

TLDR: please stop twinkifying shen qingqiu and going against what mxtx defied for us queer men (the stupid yaoi roles). and for the love of whoever you believe in, do NOT think that i hate the english design or people's personal interpretation of characters, i just hate the subconscious assigning of gender roles to bingqiu and how media portrays and fetishizes LGBTQ+ relationships in general.

edit: also i love teardrew's (check them out on twitter!) interpretation of shang qinghua. while i do really like the the eng novel design's tiny scared hamster vibes, teardrew's version just radiates "up to no good, paranoid but suspicious looking bitch" rat man and i love it so so so much. i'm not gonna repost their art bc i don't know how they feel about that but perhaps you can search up "svsss designs" on here, you'll see it pop up eventually lol.

edit 2 (1/16): i just saw someone reblog a post (that im pretty sure was referring to this one because, well, if you saw it i think it'd be a little clear kahxj) that was about how bingqiu switching and completely eschewing traditional top/bottom dynamics was a fandom idea or smth? so now i'm wondering, since i swear i remember that they were open to switching, but it's just that sqq preferred to bottom and/or was just a little too lazy to top. plus, sqq is a pretty unreliable narrator who says he doesn't want something one moment and then he does. how could he say no to bingbing? esp if he seems to wanna try bottoming too. perhaps i'm mixing things up though, idk? so if anyone can find that passage that says he only and strictly wants to bottom or whatever please show me! but i think the point of this post still stands haha (i wanted to ask about it, actually, but when i clicked on the og post's user it turned out that they blocked me ? so that was a little surprising oops. hey if ur somehow reading this, im... sorry for making you want to block me bc of this post? akdhxjj)

#JOIN THE 'STOP TWINKIFYING SQQ' GROUP #did i make sense? i have no clue i just wanted to rant about this #i really pulled a cucumber bro there huh #this also applies to GL #thinking about it more #there should be trans men and women bl and gl #and not in a fetishy way #of course luo binghe is still the big strong protag and taller than sqq but come on #i dont believe luo binghe is a twink exactly?? maybe?? but just feminine in a historical chinese male ideals way #for edit 2:#i was just saying how it made me happy that mxtx didn't follow the yaoi archetypes and how i lov her for it <3 #never said bingqiu was never done before and COMPLETELY flipped it over skdhjx #but i do believe that bingqiu did a good job providing variety and such :)#same goes for mxtx's other works as well i love her stuff sm #svsss #mxtx svsss #the scum villain's self saving system #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #luo bingge #shen yuan #luo bingmei #bingqiu #luo binghe x shen qingqiu #danmei

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cuubism · 1 month

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physical therapy, part 6.

Hob's been wavering on things like timeline with Dream because, well, he doesn't want to push, but he does obviously want more. There's a lot that he wants, and he thinks Dream wants it too. But Hob can be patient. Definitely. For sure. He's the epitome of patience.

In any case, after a few more dates which are oh so very patient, and in which Dream seems to be gradually coming more and more out of his shell, Hob finally takes the plunge and texts him:

If you want, come over to my place this weekend and I'll cook for you, and adds his address.

He paces nervously while waiting for a response. Dream coming over... he doesn't know how that would end. Well, it would hopefully at least end in Dream eating a proper meal, but other than that...

It's really not so long before he gets a response, though it feels like an eternity.

Okay, writes Dream, with a smile. 🙂 Should I bring anything?

Just yourself, writes Hob.

A shame, for I was planning to arrive incorporeally.

Hob smiles to himself at the comment. Dream is so much brighter once he decides he’s allowed to be.

On the agreed-upon date, Hob spends a truly excessive amount of time getting ready. He’s not even cooking anything elaborate, as he felt convinced he’d wind up fucking it up out of nerves if he did. But really, the quality of his food isn’t the wild card. What he’s nervous about is Dream’s response to being in his home. To being alone. Whether he’ll be okay with it. He doesn’t want to make Dream nervous.

But Dream arrives on time, and he’s smiling when Hob opens the door. He’s also carrying a huge canvas.

Oh!” Hob says, distracted from even kissing him hello. “What have you got there?”

“It is for you,” Dream says, and turns the canvas around so Hob can see it.

It’s a large painting of a rather clever-looking cat, bright colors and bold swathes of paint. It reminds Hob of Dream’s finger paintings, actually, but far more precise in technique. It’s lovely. It’s so cute. And much more playful than Dream’s older art, the pieces he had shown Hob from before his injury.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” he says, and Dream smiles shyly. “I take it your grip’s been feeling steadier, then?”

“Somewhat,” Dream says, following Hob deeper into the flat, as Hob takes the painting and sets it on top of a low bookshelf, propped against the wall. Later he’ll have to hang it up properly. “I am. Enjoying painting again. I think.”

It’s so good to hear. Each time Hob sees Dream he seems incrementally better. Less frozen. More outgoing. And it always makes Hob realize that he’s only gotten to see a fraction of the life that truly exists inside of him.

“I’m so glad to hear that, darling,” he says.

It hurts to think of the version of Dream that might have been there before being hurt. But Hob likes the Dream that he gets to know now.

He leads Dream into the kitchen and bids him to sit down at the table while Hob serves their food, which is staying warm on the stove. Normally, when he invites someone over, he’d offer them wine, but he doesn’t want Dream to get the wrong idea. God, he’s probably massively overthinking things. He’s being totally paranoid, he knows it. But it feels so important that it be right. He’d never forgive himself if he made Dream feel unsafe around him, even if it was by accident.

“I am curious what you’ve prepared to attempt to persuade me to change my habits,” Dream says, after taking a sip of the water Hob’s handed him.

“Something with a lot of butter,” Hob says, and Dream laughs softly. Dream needs it, though. He needs something that’ll stick to his bones.

What he has is tarragon chicken—fried in, truly, an excessive amount of butter—served over rice with string beans. If this can’t encourage Dream to eat real meals, nothing can.

And, gratifyingly, he’s right. Dream devours it, and has seconds. As he eats his own serving more sedately Hob wonders when the last time was that somebody actually cooked for him.

They barely even talk, but Hob doesn’t mind. He just wants Dream to eat.

“You can cook,” Dream says, and Hob laughs.

“Was that in question?”

A light blush graces Dream’s cheeks. “When you first mentioned cooking for me, I had the thought that you were a catch. For that reason among others.”

Hob can’t help himself from smiling—and perhaps blushing a bit, too. “I’ll have to keep it up, and maybe you’ll keep me.”

Dream looks down at his food, but murmurs, “I would like to.”

So Hob takes his hand on the table and squeezes it.

Later in the evening, when they’ve been ensconced on the couch for a while watching mindless telly, Dream’s head on his shoulder, Hob says, “You can stay over if you want. No expectations. Just don’t want you walking home in the dark.”

He’ll walk Dream home if that’s what he really wants, but it’s already midnight and it really might be easier to just stay put.

“Am I allowed to stay over in your bed?” Dream asks, and Hob’s pulse jumps.

“That’s what you want?”

Dream nods.

So, heart still beating hard, Hob says, “Alright. Come on, then.”

And Dream takes his hand as Hob draws him up.

He gets Dream situated with some of his pajamas, which are far too large on him, and with a spare toothbrush and so on, and when they’re finally ready he tries not to be too awkward or nervous as he climbs into bed and gestures Dream to follow, saying, “Come on, love.”

He expects Dream might hesitate, but he doesn’t, just crawls into bed after him and presses himself all up against Hob’s body, laying his head on Hob’s chest. And— God. He’s really decided that he trusts Hob. It puts a lump in Hob’s throat.

He feels like a fucking teenager again, stomach all fluttery just at the feeling of Dream lying against him. In past relationships, Hob had mostly jumped in sex-first, questions-later. But maybe there are more benefits to taking things slow than he thought. It makes every tiny thing feel monumental.

“Comfortable?” he asks, and Dream nods, hair brushing Hob’s chin.

“Yes, thank you.”

Hob pulls the blankets up over them, pets his hair. Dream lets out a long, happy sigh, and snuggles closer.

I’m going to keep you, Hob thinks. “Goodnight, Dream,” he says.

#a nice moment before ANGST #you didn't think we were done with angst did you XD #physical therapy fic #dreamling #my writing #tarragon chicken is a family recipe--thin chicken cutlets breaded and fried in butter with white wine wash and tons of chopped tarragon #i recommend

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ressjeon · 1 year

Text

endearing | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: you're just worried when your loud housemate suddenly goes quiet after serenading you for hours

rating: pg13 | word count: 1.3k

genre/au: housemates!au, romance?, fluff (lmao who's this), they're just fRiEnDs 🤭

warnings/content: just alcohol consumption, they're sweet ig 🥰

a/n: yk i’m supposed to be on break (literally on midterm season) but here we are. also i haven’t written a purely SFW drabble for a very long time so please bear with me i just love him sm. huge thank you to my phone's voice feature lol, i'd never finished this in a few hours with how slow i usually am.

companion song: more than friends by becky g 💖

You’re scrolling through your phone when you notice that the whole house has suddenly turned quiet.

You couldn’t be that you’re fixated on your phone that you didn’t notice your housemate has ended his karaoke session because you swear the living room was still loud just a few minutes ago. Jungkook, one of your housemates, has been singing his heart out since past 1 AM today. Not that you mind it really, because you’re a night owl, just like him. You love it when he does his live streams because he usually does karaoke sessions in each of them no matter what he was doing at first.

Jungkook’s one of the popular students on your campus and has a huge following on his IG account, which he uses mainly for everything, no matter how random they are. He deletes his pictures often though when he feels like changing his feed. You’re hoping that he just archived them because he’s quite talented at photography. However, he does frequent lives on IG in return since people tune in when he goes live anyway, filled with comments from either his group of friends or his admirers.

It’s been a while since you heard Jungkook singing. He has a very beautiful voice that even though he doesn’t remember the lyrics for most of the songs that he sang, he still sounded so good to anyone who’s listening. Your other housemates are still not back from their reading week vacation, giving Jungkook the only time when he could be as loud as he can in the house without disturbing anybody. He’s aware that you stay up like him and listen to him when he’s singing, relieved that out of your housemates, it’s you who remained with him. Both of you are the only ones who didn’t go anywhere because of your packed schedules.

Tonight, as diverse as his playlist is, you still feel like he’s serenading you with most of his song choices. Those songs are on your playlist too, which he knew since you’ve shared each other’s links before. So now you’re going to let yourself be deluded, humming along to the songs while you’re getting your tasks done. When the music stopped, you thought he was just taking breaks, so you didn’t think much of it. Jungkook usually creates small noises after he’s done, cleaning up the living room and kitchen before going back to his room.

But it’s suddenly quiet. Did he fall asleep already? Should you check, but then why would you? Jungkook sleeps anywhere at any time unlike you, but you’ve always been paranoid. The lazy part of you wants to close your eyes and fall asleep already, but the other part wants to go down and check. It’s just normal right just in case? Besides, it’s also part of your responsibility as a housemate.

It’s the least you could do for Jungkook because he took care of you many times when you come home drunk from house parties at 5 AM. He even took as much as helping you by being there while you let everything out, offering you a glass of water and making sure you remove your makeup before tucking you into your bed after. He cooks you noodle soup in the morning too in case you get hangovers, which you thankfully don't but your heart somersaults every time with how thoughtful he is.

So despite how comfy your bed is right now, you forced yourself to get up and pushed away your comforter before going down to the living room to check.

And your guts were right because you see Jungkook sleeping soundly on his stomach by the couch with a lighted-scented candle on the table in front of him. The light from the candle allows you to see his handsome face clearly, with flushed cheeks and slightly puckered lips as he sleeps in his arms. He looks adorable, wearing a black crewneck in sweater paws, obscuring his colourful sleeve from your eyes. His cute snores crack a small smile on your face as you approach his sleeping figure, carefully taking the remote from his hands. Sure, he’s a deep sleeper, but you didn’t want to wake him up because it’s already 4 AM and you’re a bit sleepy too.

You then turn off the TV and unplugged the mood lamp that he designed for one of his classes. It’s so pretty, and he brings it out in the living room once in a while, especially when he’s doing his live streams. You also just noticed the half-filled beer mug on the table, taking it with you to the kitchen where you’ve put it back on the ref before deciding to look for spare blankets for him. You couldn’t find any though, so you just opted for his room, which is surprisingly wide open.

Jungkook stays in the room on the first floor, so he frequents the living room when he’s not gaming or doing schoolwork. Entering his room, you grabbed his blanket at once, fighting the urge to nuzzle it, given how good Jungkook usually smells when you hug him. You went back to the living room and put the blanket over him, pushing away a strand of his hair from his closed eyes before tucking it behind his ears. His hair had gotten longer and curly, so fluffy too that you’d been expressing how you love this look on him. Jungkook smiles when you do, letting you ruffle his hair more.

He stirs a bit, causing you to go rigid and worried that you woke him up. You don’t move until you were sure that he’s fully sleeping. And though he might not hear it, you still wish him a quiet good night before eyeing the candle. You love the smell of it but for safety reasons, you blow out and retreat upstairs to your room.

The footsteps padding in the hallway woke you up from your deep slumber, being the sensitive sleeper you are. You’re wondering how Jungkook’s awake at this hour and why he’s up here, reluctantly rising from your bed before opening the door. There you watch him scurrying back to the stairs wrapped in his blankets looking like a deer caught in the headlights when he hears you.

“Jungkook? why are you awake? do you need something? it’s still early” you asked him sleepily while rubbing your eyes.

“um, i woke up and i-uh” he couldn’t look you in the eye, the nervousness evident in his voice. “you can’t sleep?” you yawn, yearning to go back to your comfy bed but you just wanna talk to him more.

Jungkook shakes his head. “i just wanna say thank you for earlier and uh-sorry for waking you up” he grins apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck.

“oh Kook, that’s nothing compared to what you’ve done more for me” you smile at him, truly grateful for his existence in your life. Hold, you’re sleep deprived to be having these thoughts right now but Jungkook just looks so endearing in your eyes despite how sleepy you still are.

Damn, you really should sleep more.

He’s oddly looking at you fondly so you mimic him, both of you waiting who will back down first. Jungkook looks like he wants to say something more, tongue poking around his lip ring with that doe eyes of his. You smile at him, urging him to continue. He’s back to being shy around you these days for some reason but you don’t wanna pry, just want him to be comfortable as much as possible.

“i’m still sleepy so i’m going back to my room” you can see him retracting so you approach him, a knowing smile already plastered on your face. “do you wanna cuddle? i think we’ll fit in my bed” his nervous eyes were replaced with excitement, following you to your room.

You didn’t even get to lie down on your bed properly when he tackles you, spurring a hearty giggle out of you with him matching you. “what?” he hugs you right away, mumbling something against your skin as he snuggles his head on the crook of your neck. Your hands automatically card through his luscious hair until you hear his breathing slow down, and his cute snores occurring once again.

Guess you’ll never know what all these are for until he wakes.

e/n: i'm testing many things from this so hope it's wholesome enough lmao (i tried). have a lovely week everyone!

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rubberonmyduck · 2 months

Text

Lust's Sexiest Couple (Part II)

[Prologue] [I] [II] [III] AO3 Link

Weakened angelic powers and one mishap with a rogue exorcist later, Lucifer is injured. As the looming threat of war with Heaven hangs above his head, and the delay of getting a healing spell from Stolas, Lucifer is forced to make a decision. New to the Pride Ring, you land yourself a job at I.M.P.-- the Immediate Murder Professionals. Desperate to make some money during a client-low, Blitz agrees to contract out a bodyguard for Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell. The catch? You're the one Blitz picks for the job.

Perhaps you should complain. At this point you were convinced Lucifer was being paranoid. You were diligent in your work, checking your side every time you passed an alleyway, and glancing behind yourself every so often. There wasn’t a single soul on the walk.

“The sex club?”

The two of you came to a stop in front of Ozzie’s, Asmodeus's infamous nightclub. The building was decorated in pinks and purples on the outside, the walls having tall windows that were too fogged over to see into. The entrance had heart-like decor, and was blocked by a stern-looking hellhound. Right next to the hellhound was a line of imps, succubus, and hounds waiting to get into the nightclub.

“I wasn’t very fond of the idea either.”

You slipped your pistol back into your bag, following Lucifer as he got in line with the others. You figured it was probably a bad idea to open carry in a whore house.

“Name?” The security guard seemed bored, staring down at his clipboard and not sparing a single glance at the King of Hell when you two made it to the front.”

“Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar,”

The hellhound glanced up, giving no reaction to the sight in front of him.

“Do you have a date?”

Lucifer was taken aback, stuttering as he responded. “What– no, no no. No. I’m here for Asmodeus? To have a meeting?”

The guy’s expression did not change, as if he didn’t care for a word Lucifer said unless it was some form of yes, I have a date.

Lucifer pinched the skin between his eyes. Way to shoot down a divorced man’s confidence, he thought. Without warning, he wrapped a hand around your arm, lifting it slightly to show you off to the bouncer.

“This is my date. Can I go in now?”

You felt your face warm up at the words, a dark crimson spreading across your cheeks. Your thoughts were scattered now, and you barely registered him looping his arm around yours, his hand now firmly placed against your wrist, almost as if he were debating holding your hand to sell the ruse.

The bounder stepped aside for you two, a smirk plastered on his face. As the two of you walked into the establishment, you heard Lucifer muttering something under his breath.

“I am so firing that hound.”

“Can you even do that?” you almost snorted at the thought, attempting to distract yourself from the burning touch of Lucifer’s hand against your skin. The queasiness was coming back, too.

“Just because you’re my date, doesn’t mean you get to question me!”

“Surely I have some say in the matter–”

The two of you passed the last set of curtains, presenting the club’s interior. There were tables and heart-shaped chairs scattered all about, various creatures at every spot, some drinking, some talking, and some clearly on a romantic getaway. At one corner of the building was a bar. There was a big stage against one of the walls, as well. Your eyes widened at the sights.

Lucifer noticed your awestruck look. “Have you been here before?” he questioned, releasing his grip from your arm.

As fast as it came, the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach went away. Perhaps you needed to take some pain relievers. “I’ve only ever seen pictures. It looks more grand in person.”

Lucifer nodded at this. Before you knew it, the man was quickly making his way through the big room, his eyes scanning the floor for Asmodeus. You had to speed-walk a bit to catch up to his abrupt start, but eventually the two of you were side by side.

“Do you see Asmodeus?” Lucifer leaned over towards you, his mouth close to your ear to counteract the effects of the loud music playing around the two of you. You gulped, your face slowly heating up at the mere closeness you two had. Lord have mercy you get sick the first day on the job, you thought. Must be something in the air.

“I do not,” you replied, your voice wavering. You glanced around the room again. “Maybe one of his employees knows? Or–”

Your voice cut off as your eyes landed on one of the tables in front of you. It was a two person table, a pair of imps sitting together. At a glance it wouldn't be unusual, but upon closer inspection , you realized the two imps were your coworkers, Moxxie and Millie.

Lucifer seemed to notice them two, his eyes following your gaze the moment you stopped speaking.

“Aren’t those your coworkers?” He asked. His voice was full of boredom – he didn’t particularly care if your coworkers were there, he just wanted to know why his bodyguard was suddenly M.I.A.

You gave him a nod in return. With all your preparation for the little trip with Lucifer, you forgot about the conversation you had with Moxxie the other night. Apparently he was taking Millie to Ozzie’s for their anniversary. He didn’t tell you when and apparently the when happened to be the same night as Lucifer’s meeting. There was little reason to bother the two on their little anniversary date, so you decided to keep up with the business you had with Lucifer, motioning for him to follow you as you walked off to the side.

“I think if we sat for a bit, Asmodeus might come out from wherever he is.” You declared, stopping short of a table near one of the walls. You pulled out a seat for Lucifer.

“As long as you’re okay with it?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Fine by me, uh,” He took a seat in the chair. The man audibly sighed as he looked over to the stage. “He better not be long though,”

As if on cue, the moment you took your own seat across from him the overhead lights dimmed out, letting the stage be illuminated by pink neon lights as dancers were lowered down on different platforms. An equally pink mist started to fill part of the room as a robotic voice started speaking to the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I see some sexy faces around here tonight!”

You lost your focus on Lucifer as the two of you looked to see one of the dancers take a step onto the larger stage. His body seemed to match his voice, a jumble of electronic arms and legs moving the man around with ease. You could tell it was far from a robot though, its face and tail displaying likeness to an imp. Part of you wondered what happened to the imp, but it wasn’t your place to speculate.

“Welcome, welcome to Ozzies, Lust Ring’s number one place for all kinds of sick, twisted fantasies.”

“That's his assistant, Fizzarolli.” You looked over to Lucifer, Fizzarolli’s voice drowning out into the background.

“I remember it now– the two of them put on a little show or something at the beginning of the night,” Lucifer rubbed the back of his neck, a look of guilt spreading across his face. “I figured we’d arrive after that. I guess we made it just on time.”

Lucifer looked down at the menus set on the table before glancing up at you. “If you want a drink, I can cover it.”

“Nonsense,” you replied, quickly adding on when Lucifer gave you a confused look. “I don’t drink on the job.”

He simply nodded.

“Without wasting anymore time, our little opening act is a fresh one coming at us from a little imp from the Wrath Ring, give it up for Moxxie!”

As your sights were set back onto the stage, you cringed at hearing your workers name. Moxxie had mentioned he prepared a song to sing for Millie tonight, but the poor little imp was hoping he wasn’t going to be the opening act. In the end, you opted to tune out the music number they had on the stage.

You were shaken out of your thoughts by a hand placed gently on your shoulder. Looking up, you saw Lucifer there, a grin plastered across his face.

“Finally one of the employees recognized me. They have a room in the back we can wait in. Shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.”

You nodded, getting up from your chair and following Lucifer as one of the employees guided the two of you to the back. The last thing you saw before going behind a set of curtains was Moxxie and Millie on one of the high-rise stages. You smiled at the sight. Millie was so going to gush about this next time you saw each other.

“Lucifer! My old pal, glad you could make it.”

Asmodeus, the Sin of Lust, entered the room, his attire a more casual one than the outfit he wore on stage earlier. Trailing behind him was Fizzarolli, who was holding an ice pack to his face. Despite the weathered down state, he seemed as happy as Asmodeus was to see Lucifer.

Lucifer quickly stood up from the couch he was resting on, walking over to give his friend a quick handshake.

“It’s been a long time,” Lucifer replied, a sheepish grin adorning his face.

“Indeed it has. Unfortunately it couldn’t be under better circumstances.” Asmodeus took his eyes off Lucifer, looking around the oh-so-familiar room. His eyes landed on you. You were sitting on a different couch than the one Lucifer was, your pose a bit closed in as the other Sin looked down at you. If Lucifer’s height was taunting, Asmodeus was purely terrifying.

“Who’s your little friend?” He inquired, walking over to stand a few feet in front of you. Asmodeus leaned down to get a better look at your features.

“His date, obviously!” Fizzarolli cut in, snagging the open space next to you. He slung an arm across your shoulder, holding you tightly against him as he pulled you in for a side hug. “At least, that's what the last bouncer on shift was saying.”

Asmodeus raised an eyebrow, straightening himself to give a mudge against Lucifer’s shoulder. “I see you’re finally moving onto new things, Luci!”

A blush spread across Lucifer’s face. “He wouldn’t let me in otherwise!” Lucifer protested, throwing his hands up slightly to defend himself. A bit of red spread across your face too, something Fizzarolli picked up on but didn’t comment.

Asmodeus rested a hand against Lucifer’s shoulder, giving it a slight tease. “We’re just messing with you, friend,”

Asmodeus retracted his hand, holding it out towards you. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Lucifer mentioned he was bringing along a bodyguard.” A grimace appeared on his face, before disappearing a second later. You shook Asmodeus’s hand.

“I hope you understand, but I can’t really have anyone else listening to this meeting,” Asmodeus started, folding his hands across his chest. “Secret Sin stuff and all that. I elected Fizzarolli there to keep you company. I assure you Lucifer is safe in my hands.”

You nodded at that, glancing over at Fizzarolli– who seemed to be extremely excited about this situation– before smiling at the two sins. Lucifer gave you a grin and a thumbs up back, following the Sin of Lust out of the room and presumably to some office.

The room was silent now. You figured Fizzarolli would try and talk to you, considering the excitement on his face from the moment his eyes landed on you, but there was nothing. Mildly concerned, you looked to your side, and was greeted with the view of Fizzarolli staring back at you. Grinning.

“You like him.” Despite the rough voice he held, the words came out smoothly and almost teasingly.

“Wha– what?” You stuttered, your eyes widening at the absurdity. Fizzarolli’s mouth turned to a smirk as he leaned closer to you. Your tail wrapped around your waist in defense.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on, babe, its obvious!” Fizzarolli springs up from his seat, standing in front of you. He clasped his hands together.

“Lucifer’s bodyguard! This is just like one of the fan novels I’ve read!” Fizzarolli did a little happy spin, before leaning towards you, grabbing onto your arm much like Lucifer did earlier in the night. “This is my date,” Fizzarolli mocks, fanning his fake blush with his free hand. You yanked your arm out of his grasp, standing up and backing away slightly. Fizzarolli was quicker than you thought. He slung his arm around your shoulder again, pulling you close to his body.

“You can’t deny it, little one! I saw that blush on your face,” You reached up to your face, placing a hand on your cheek. “I may be the embodiment of lust’s assistance, but I know a few things about love.”

“You– You’re– You’re ridiculous!” You sputtered out, shaking yourself out of his grip again. A blush spread across your cheeks, the implications of his words finally hitting you. “He’s just– I’m just–”

“A king? And an imp? Look, I can work with a forbidden love story too,” Fizzarolli starts, resting his hands on his hips. You were grateful he was done butting into his space.

“I– no. No, no, no, no. I don’t know what kind of idea you’re getting, but it’s wrong.”

Fizzarolli’s gaze softens. He realizes he might have come off a bit too strong, and decides to sit back down on the couch, patting the spot next to him with a sheepish smile. When you didn’t accept the offer, he sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he stated, folding his hands across his lap. “I thought–” Fizzarolli shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter what I thought– You aren’t crushing on Lucifer.” Fizzarolli raised an eyebrow when you shook your head. “Really? No offense, but you look like how I– you look like you do. Your eyes were almost always on Lucifer when we were talking to you, and,” He pointed down to your tail, which was now resting on the floor only slightly in defense. “Your tail wagged every time he looked at you.”

“It did!?” You squealed, kneeling down to grip tightly at your tail. What a traitor.

“What do you feel whenever you look at Lucifer?” Fizzarolli questioned, leaning his head on his fist. “Horny? Smitten? Ooh, do you get butterflies?”

You pursed your lips. “Sometimes I feel a little queasy–”

Fizzarolli grinned. He left his spot on the couch and kneeled in front of you, resting one of his hands on your shoulder. “Your secret is safe with me!”

Fizzarolli proceeded to tease you for the next half hour following that conversation, which you vehemently denied any type of feeling besides business when it came to Lucifer. ‘He’s my boss, I barely know him!’ you would argue, which Fizzarolli would bring up how quickly that could change. All in all, most of those objections turned into Fizzarolli talking about sex, and in the end Fizzarolli gave you his phone number, making you promise to text him when you finally come to your senses. Now you were at Lucifer's side once again, walking back down the streets of Lust as he rambled on about the plans for the next two days.

“We’ll stay at Le Trou for the night, and we can pick up the package from Asmodeus tonight.” Lucifer slows to a stop, before turning to look at you, anticipating your reaction.

“That sounds good, Your Majesty.” Lucifer cringed at your words.

You looked behind Lucifer briefly, and were met with a shadowy figure.

“You know–”

“Get down!” You cut Lucifer off, shoving his shoulders to get him low on the ground with you. Just as the two did, a loud popping noise filled the air. You were quick to react, pulling out your tiny pistol from your belt, aiming it at the source of the noise. You pulled the trigger. The figure fell down to the ground, a loud grunt and whine coming from it. Their own gun flung from their grasp, skidding across the sidewalk and onto the streetway. Once you were sure the other man was disarmed, you helped Lucifer up to his knees.

“Are you okay, sir!” You frantically tried brushing the dust off his suit. Without a word, Lucifer reached up to grab your hands with his own, stopping you with your fussing. Your eyes widened, staring at him.

“Thank you,” his voice was filled with awe as he stared back at you, the grip on your hands tightening. It was this moment you finally got a good look at the man. Under the deep blue light of the Lust Ring, complemented with the purple streetlamps overhead the two of you, Lucifer’s skin seemed to adopt a purplish color, the blonde of his hair looking almost blue in the shadows. The yellow glowing of his angelic eyes was soft on his face, but his eyes were a darker red than usual, unable to combat the blue light. Behind Lucifer, his wings were puffed out in defense, a few of them wrapped tightly in bandages. You started to realize how close the two of you are, his breath warm against your cheek. You could almost hear your own heart trying to beat out of your chest.

You shook yourself out of your daze, feeling heat creep up your face.

“Anytime, sir.”

Lucifer let go of your hands, pushing off the ground to a standing position. He held his hand out to you.

“You can just call me Lucifer,”

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #immediate bodyguard professionals

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kaplerrr · 1 year

Text

König saves the day

Warning: based on a true story (based on two true stories actually), I am terrified of spiders and so is the reader in this one, König saves the day and prevents me you from having a stroke, fluff, König's your neighbour, first meeting??? Sort of ?? and you're referred as "small"

I need to vent because there was a f*cking spider in my room but no König to help me 😔😔😔

König was laying on the couch as he lazily scrolled through his phone. On his left was a glass of a warm beverage that was waiting to be drank, the weather was cloudy and windy and he was feeling at peace. A peace he rarely felt before. He sighed happily, turned off his phone and let his hand rest on his chest. He closed his eyes, the simpleness and the calmeness of his flat that he has missed so much for months were magically soothing his body, lifting an invisible weight off his shoulders. He felt himself dozing off, when-

Knock knock

A knock, so quiet he thought he had imagined it. He jumped on his feet, walking to the hall, looking the door as if it did something wrong.

Knock Knock

He quickly grabbed a mask, covered the bottom half of his face and opened the door.

And he looked at you.

His small neighbour.

You were looking terribly embarrassed, your eyes going wide as you looked at him and tried to maintain eye contact. He rose an eyebrow, confused and slightly worried. He wouldn't call you a friend, you were polite, kind and respectful but you never had a true conversation together. And honestly with his job he wasn't surprised, he was absent more often than not and he really wasn't one to go out and get friendly with people. But you seemed like a kind person for sure. You were for now his stressed neighbour.

And it was stressing him.

"Can I... Help you ?" He asked, unsure of what to say as an awkward silence settled.

You cleared your throat and tried to explain the current situation "Yeah, hi, hmm... I'm sorry that is so embarrassing but-" you stopped, your cheeks burning in shame "I mean.. I'm sorry to bother you but-"

"theresaspiderinmylivingroomandicanthandlethosethings" you said quickly, hoping he would understand.

He blinked, trying to understand what you had just said "Eh.. I'm sorry I didn't catch that, a spider ?"

You grimaced and sighed, trying to calm down "There's... A spider in my living room. And, the thing is, I'm very bad at handling those things, I just can't, they're- they're terrifying and... I mean, if I'm not bothering you, could you... Could you please help me get rid of it? Please ?" You hide your face in your hands, mortified. You were a grown up, you weren't supposed to bother other grown you barely knew up because of your fears.

König felt himself relax again and he wanted to sigh in relief that it was nothing dangerous but hold it back as he thought you might interpret this the wrong way.

Instead he smiled, eyes crinkling and nodded.

"Ja, of course, don't worry about it !" And just like that he stepped out of his flat, following you to yours.

___

As he saw how hesitant you were to enter your own flat, he suggested you to stay out for a minute so he could quickly eliminate the spider and bring you peace. You vividly agreed, thanking him profusely.

The spider was... Small. (no, you're just too tall konig) He didn't know what kind of spider he was expecting but now at least he understood how phobic you were. "I'm sorry little guy, nothing personal." He said before getting the job done.

___

"Thank you so much ! It means a lot, you prevented me from moving to a new place." you said only half joking, eyeing your walls fear running through your veins at the very idea of another spider intruding your home.

König noticed the quick glances you were giving to walls. "Do you want me to check the other rooms to make sure that no spider remains?" He asked kindly.

You paused for a moment. You wanted to say yes so bad, you were being paranoid about those spiders. But you didn't want to push your luck, your neighbour has done so much already you didn't want to overstep.

As you were gathering strength to refuse politely, you looked into his eyes. Beautiful baby blue eyes shining with kindness. He wasn't judging you and you wanted to believe that he wasn't asking that just out of politeness.

Your strength disappeared as quickly as it appeared and you sighed sheepishly "if it doesn't bother you, I would really appreciate that."

As soon as you said that, he disappeared, checking thoroughly each room. When he was satisfied, he came back, two thumbs up "your flat is spider free." He chuckled softly.

Your laugh was nervous even if you were feeling a little more at ease "I really don't know how to thank you enough for what you did" you smiled. Then your eyes widened "I'm sorry, I don't even know your name !" You quickly extended your arms, telling him your name, feeling silly for not asking that earlier.

"I haven't really thought about it either, so don't worry, we're even. I'm König" he said shaking your hand.

"Well, nice to meet you König." You beamed. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do to thank you ? We can grab coffee sometime. Like tomorrow or Friday ? If you're fine with it, of course !" You cringed at your failed attempt of gratefulness that sounded more like a very bad flirting line.

König blushed but couldn't help laughing slightly, eyes so beautifully expressive.

"A coffee sounds great ! Friday's perfect."

_________

It's 2am, i should be sleeping, but here I am instead 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

#please i need konig in my life #i have no weakness except for spiders #thats a lie i have tons of weaknesses #and König is one of them #konig mw2 #konig x you #konig x reader #könig x reader #konig cod #konig fluff #cod mw2 #könig my beloved #könig x y/n

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azurlily · 11 months

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Hi, can I get what dating Azula would include? Please

Well hii!! Sure, I got you!

Dating Azula Would Include:

Azula isn't...the nicest. She's kind in the way that she loves you, but also wouldn't hesitate to laugh at your mistakes.

Azula, to say the least, is a good lover. As long as you get over being a massive bitch sometimes. She'll laugh or snicker at some servant or pedestrian doing something stupid.

Dating Azula means being friends with Mai and Ty lee. You have no choice. Once the two girls learn about you, it's all over, this is your life now. You have no choice.

Dating Azula means you get recognized a lot, meaning people see and know who you are. Just one glance at you, and you're recognized by everyone around you.

Dating Azula means you get kisses at the randomest times of the day. You two could be walking around and she'll pin you to a wall and pull you into a deep kiss. She then prances off, acting like she didn't just kiss your lips off.

Azula is only affectionate in private or around people she trusts. She allows Mai and Ty lee to see her kissing, touching, loving you.

Azula doesn't share. By no means are you allowed near ANYONE she would consider competition. Mai and Ty lee are on that list too. She has no issues keeping you away from anyone she doesn't like.

Azula has a hard time expressing her love, with the life she has lived it's understanding. She more than likely buys you things, things she deemes worthy of your touch. So you see a dress or a peice of jewelry you like? Just ask.

Azula tries her hardest not to be a bitch when your feeling down. Dating her means you see the vulnerable side of her, she knows you'll show that side of yourself too. In her eyes seeing the real you, it's a pleasure and a bit overwhelming.

Azula gets her red lipstick all over your face when she kisses you. Make out sessions are very evident to those who pass by you. All they see are red smudges and an even redder face. Too bad she enjoys seeing you all quiet and flustered.

As your girlfriend, Azula takes care of many things for you. She knows that being in a relationship with her is hard, so she takes the workload off you. This is one of the many ways she says 'I love you' without actually saying it.

She doesn't care if her father approves of you. It doesn't matter, I mean at first it did. Now though, now she'll do anything you say. If you say it nice enough.

Azula will take you everywhere with her. She's paranoid that you might get hurt without her. So, the obvious option is to bring you with. She's so smart.

As your girlfriend, she doesn't get a little control happy. She decides who gets to give you attention, she decides what you eat, everything. Although that's just her paranoia and control complex. Dont worry, after about 5 to 6 months of dating, that's stops.

While she hates people wanting you, she loves to show you off. Oh? There's a big important banquet coming up? You're coming with.

"You look amazing, it doesn't matter what they think so hurry up. I know what I said- shut up!"

You more than likely make fun of her. For what? For her getting embarrassed by the fact that you're holding hands in public. She might not seem it, but trust me, once you two are in private. That bright blush comes out of her cheeks.

Azula gets angry when you think bad about yourself. If you're good enough for her, you are 10 times better than anyone else. That is just a fact.(in her eyes)

"Am I supposed to care? I don't care that you think your fat, you're better than any man or woman. The fact that I love you, is more than enough proof."

Aggressively loving. She gives you everything aggressively. Her love, her anger, her joy and happiness, her lust. Everything is aggressive. Thata how it should be though.(wink wink)

If you two were to ever break up, it's more than likely because of her status or controlling nature. She feels the need to prove she loves you, even if it's a bit crazy sometimes.

She'd be mad about the breakup, she'd do anything to get you back. I mean anything, she'd give you the world. Azula is more than definitely scared of losing you, not like she'll admit it.

Azula will yell, scream, fight. She'll do anything except admit she's afraid of losing you.

If you two get back together, she's even worse. Not for long though, especially if you already had a very long term relationship. She'll feel weak for letting you almost leave. She's angry, but at the same time afraid. Azula takes measures to make sure you never leave her again.

She is loving person...just ask Ty lee and Mai.

Hoped yall likes this. I'm finally getting back into writing!! I'm going to be doing as many requests as possible. I more than likely wont finish any of the yandere month challenges on time. So I'll do them when I want to and I'm getting back on requests. Have a good day/night yall!!

#wlw #lesbian #avatar the last airbender #azula #azula x reader #dating hcs #kinda angsty #lil bit of dirty stuffs #im gay af #writing is haaaaaaaaard

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schrijverr · 1 month

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Stiles as a Roommate

Classic outsiders POV of Stiles in college, where his roommate, Mike, and their other friends try to figure out who all these people are that keep calling Stiles.

On AO3.

Ships: Sterek

Warnings: they think Stiles is wrapped up in some bad shit (which valid tbh)

~~~~

Mike’s roommate is profoundly disturbing and highly hilarious to have around. On the first day he comes crashing into the room, tripping over himself like an old school physical comedy, before assuring Mike that he’s fine and it doesn’t even come close to being beaten to a pulp by a grandfather.

It’s quite the introduction and for a while Mike was worries that his roommate is going to suck. Stiles isn’t the typical college student, you see.

He has amassed an entire herb garden in the windowsill, skips out on most parties, keeps a metal baseball bat by his bed and calls home every single day. On top of that, he doesn’t know how to shut up and his rants devolve into the strangest bullshit about the most random topics that make Mike wonder why the hell criminology major had looked into them.

So, Mike thought he is stuck with a weird paranoid kid, who doesn’t know how to have fun. He worries about Stiles getting mad about him getting back in late or judgmental about not studying as much. However, his worries had soon been put to rest.

Because Stiles is fun and Stiles is easy. He can become anyone’s friend in minutes and is up later than healthy most of the time, doing weird bullshit on his laptop that he calls research, though Mike never knows what for.

He might not be a party-goer himself, but he absolutely doesn’t care about what Mike does, just jeering at him to use protection when he goes out and waking him up with a smug smirk and coffee when Mike wants to disappear into his mattress with a hangover, kicking his ass to classes.

Stiles is probably what is keeping him from failing right now and Mike will go to great lengths to keep him as his friend, because, yeah, they’re friends now.

It’s impossible not to befriend Stiles, he grows on you like a very persistent mold.

His friendship with Stiles starts six weeks into rooming together. Classes are in full swing alongside parties and Mike has just started to get worried about his roommate being a stick in the mud, when he comes home at 4:00 AM piss drunk.

Naturally he tries (and fails) to quietly enter the room, trying not the be the dickbag that wakes people up every night to find the lights still on. He blinks a few times at Stiles, who is sitting on his bed with a laptop and smartly says: “Huh.”

“God, you’re so fucking drunk it’s not even funny, dude. I can smell it from here and I don’t even have a freaky nose,” Stiles comments, before he gets up from the bed.

Mike sways slightly in the doorway, mentally trying to decide if he can do a stumble and drop to his bed or if he’ll sleep on the floor when Stiles is suddenly in front of him. He startles and nearly falls over, saved from faceplanting by Stiles, who is usually the one meeting the floor.

“Oh, hey, there, hey, buddy,” Stiles says, righting him. He slips an arm around Mike and masterfully stumble-drags him to the bed, depositing him on it. He points at Mike, who is still reeling from the movement and sternly says: “Don’t move,” as if Mike had any big plans.

Moments later he returns with a glass of water and gets Mike upright, telling him to sip and not allowing him to stop until the glass is empty.

Mike isn’t sure what happens next, but the next morning he wakes up with a groan to find two painkillers, a glass of water and a glass of orange juice on his bedside table along with a note reading: go to your classes! And you’re not a very eloquent drunk

In that moment, it feels like the nicest thing anyone has ever done for him, swiftly forgetting all his parents have done under the pounding headache. He takes his painkillers, drinks his drinks and actually manages to drag himself to his lecture, deciding that Stiles might not be so bad.

When he comes back from his class, Stiles is there, typing away on his laptop again. He greets Mike when he enters and Mike returns it: “Hey, dude. Thanks for the painkillers and stuff.”

“Yeah, man, no problem,” Stiles smiles back. “It’s just instinct at this point, I’ve had to drag worse people off to bed.”

It’s a bit of an odd reply, but something Mike can work with. “You friends with many party-goers?”

A strange look flits over Stiles’ face, but it goes as fast as it comes and Stiles says: “Something like that. I was the one with a car, who wasn’t a prick about it getting dirty on the inside when in crisis. I have passed up on many party experiences except the clean up. All my friends are idiots.”

Mike chuckles at that and plops down on his own bed, as he comments: “Do you have a big friend group back home?” See, he can have conversations, mom.

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles tells him with a grin. “We’re like a family. A very weird family.” A brief pause. “But how about you?”

“Nah,” Mike shrugs. “I’m making up for it now.”

“Yeah, I can see,” Stiles grins. “Alcohol is a poison, my man. Besides, I’m not sure you’re remembering the friends you made.”

The bluntness is something Mike has encountered before and turned him away, but it doesn’t sound mean. He remembers that he is going to try with Stiles, so instead of ending the conversation there, he shrugs: “Probably, but it’s fun while it lasts.”

“Come on, man, that’s not fun,” Stiles says. “I have some friends from introduction. We get fries on Thursdays and study on Sunday. You can come sometime, it’s fun.”

Okay, so the bluntness was genuine concern and Mike honestly could use some actual friends. He likes parties, they’re fun, but the loneliness is starting to get to him. So he replies: “Sure, sounds fun.”

“Hell yeah,” Stiles does a genuine fist pump and Mike snorts. Yeah, alright, maybe Stiles isn’t so bad at all.

“Why were you awake so late anyway?” Mike asks, suddenly remembering that Stiles was just sitting there when he stumbled in.

“Oh, Jackson called me,” Stiles says. “He’s in studying in at Cambridge, because his parents are pretentious fuckers. He needed to check in about… something and I was still awake. I had to look something up, I was just emailing him the details when you came in.”

“All the way in England?” Mike whistles, a bit impressed.

“Tsk, don’t let hear him that. Dick has a big enough ego as it is,” Stiles rolls his eyes.

“I thought you were his friend?” Mike says, a bit confused, because Stiles had literally picked up the phone at 4:00 AM for this guy, couldn’t be that much bad blood, could there?

“Surprisingly enough. He had a restraining order against me in high school for a while,” Stiles informs him casually, before realizing how that sounds and quickly amending: “Obviously, he revoked it, because it was completely unnecessary and a big misunderstanding. We’re cool now, promise.”

And that’s Mike’s cue to drop the conversation, giving Stiles a tight nod, before turning to his own work. He’s giving the other a chance, not inviting crazy. Though he does allow himself to be invited for fries on Thursday with Stiles’ friends.

There is Maya a shy, but enthusiastic biology major; Aalif, a kind but serious looking pre-law student; Nikki, a hilariously insane art major; and Kai a bit of a dorky English major. How Stiles had found this ragtag group Mike doesn’t know

“Mike,” he introduces himself. “I do history. I’m Stiles’ roommate,” before he’s pulled into a discussion about whether or not fries can be classified as a salad. (Potato salad exists, Mike, and it’s a side dish).

It’s honestly a lot more fun than expected and it’s nice to see that Stiles does know how to have fun, he just has fun arguing about nothing with someone studying to argue professionally instead of getting wasted.

While Mike doesn’t think he’ll keep away from parties entirely, he might cut back to make place for this. The genuine connection is way nicer than not remembering who you talked to, or if you even did.

They’re about to start opening the famous is cereal-soup debate when Stiles’ phone starts to ring. He nearly hits his head on the table as he dives to get it out of his bag, calling out a quick: “Sorry, guys, gotta take this real quick.”

But since he is stuck in a booth, all he can do is turn away from them as he greets: “Isaac, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

It’s not the most standard greeting and Mike raises his brow at the others, who all shrug. Apparently this has happened before. Mike watches as Stiles gets a reply, fascinated by how Stiles seems to melt, worries leaving him as he grins fondly, before practically cooing: “You missing me already? I am flattered, pup.”

He grins some more at what Isaac is saying, before raising a brow, voice turning into a tease: “I feel used here. Like a cheap replacement. You knew Scott was going to be busy with Allison, I even warned you. Not my fault no one in this p- family ever listens to me.”

Another reply to which Stiles says: “Yes, you heard correctly, I’m with friends, you can make those at college. I encourage you to try.”

An eyeroll at Isaac’s answer, then a sigh: “Yes, Isaac, having your own friends will get their attention again. But try also for yourself, meeting new people is fun. Maybe you even meet someone you like.”

“Bye, Isaac,” Stiles says pointedly, it sounds faintly like Isaac is protesting his departure, but he hangs up on him.

“Sorry about that, you know how they can get,” Stiles grins, trying to play it off, while Mike tries to ignore how much it sounds like the conversation he had with his mom last week, before deciding to join the others in not commenting.

And after that it their friendship takes off until they’re at the ‘waking him up with a smug smirk and coffee when Mike wants to disappear into his mattress with a hangover, kicking his ass to classes’- stage.

Turns out that if you’re closer to Stiles, he’s even weirder. He goes home pretty often, now that he has settled in alright, nearly every other weekend, at least once a month, though he complains about his dad forcing him to stay at college to get the full experience, air quotes obvious in his voice.

Mike doesn’t say anything, since he kind of agrees with Stiles’ dad. It’s a bit unhealthy how much Stiles’ calls home. Or at least, Mike thinks he does, though it always sounds like it’s someone else on the phone, because Stiles will tell the same story a bunch of times or tell the person that another person told him to tell them etc, like they couldn't call themselves.

The conversations are also just weird. Stiles cuts himself off sometimes, sending Mike looks, or he’ll fuss over whoever is on the other side of the line like he’s their therapist, or their fucking mother. Not to mention the fact that he always – always – picks up.

Mike has tried to call Stiles a few times, a lot of the time his roommate won’t pick up, or call back apologetically, yet he’ll leave a lecture if someone from home calls.

It’s just odd.

So, brave soldier as he is (as well as the head investigator of their little friend group, who are all more curious about Stiles than Mike expected when he first met them), he asks: “Hey, man, who are you always calling?”

Stiles look up from where has just hung up with a: “You be careful okay? I love you,” looking a bit confused, before smiling and shrugging: “That depends, honestly. It’s a bit much.”

That sounds like a deflection, but Mike is curious and got better at talking to people and standing up for himself. So, he goes: “I have time. I’m smart. I think I can take it.”

“Alright,” Stiles shoots him another uncertain look, before starting, “Well, my dad and Derek are holding down the fort, so I call them just to see how life is going. Boyd and Erica are there too, so I call them too, but Boyd doesn’t talk much, so I mostly call with Erica. She is my Catwoman, you know, we chat, she spills about Boyd. He has his own carpentry shop, it’s been going well. I’m glad for him, you know. And Erica is taking a gap year, but to be honest, I think she likes being a park ranger too much to ever go back to school.”

Mike nods along to Stiles’ rambles. His dad is explainable and the fact that he added Derek in there must mean they’re a unit in his mind, maybe a brother? Or even his father’s boyfriend. Erica is someone he’s close with and knows well, called her his Catwoman, so maybe girlfriend? But he connected her to Boyd, who sounds like a far friend of sorts, so maybe not.

“Of course there is Jackson in England,” Stiles continues on happily. “I told you about him. He is a bit of a dick, but we’ve forgiven him. Well, Lydia did and we all trusted her and it worked out okay.”

And yeah, Mike remembers Jackson with the apparent restraining order and wonders who Lydia is. Luckily he doesn’t have to wait long.

“Lydia,” Stiles sighs, making Mike think he loves her, which he naturally immediately disproves by going, “I used to be in love with her, but turns out, no. She’s being an absolute genius doing mathematics at CalTech. She terrifies me in the best ways.”

That’s not concerning at all.

“And then you have Scott, my best friend,” Stiles rambles on and Mike knows that the other probably won’t even notice if he leaves. He gets like that. “Now my man Scott is at Colorado State

to become a vet alongside Allison and Isaac.”

Those two names are also familiar and Mike feels awkward staying silent, so he says: “They’re all become vets?”

“No, just Scott, but they’re all at Colorado State, because Scott will probably perish without Allison and Isaac hates being lonely and didn’t get into Stanford with me,” Stiles says, like that’s the most obvious reason to pick a school.

Mike is distracted by Stiles hitting his arm enthusiastically: “Allison is also doing history, man, I hadn’t even thought of that! I don’t know how it would be relevant either, but you know, fun fact! I love fun facts, like did you know that human teeth are the only part of the body that can’t heal themselves, because enamel is dead tissue. That was fun to find out.”

He senses that there is a story there, but Stiles is already moving on: “And Isaac, my beautiful boy, is doing social studies, which I think will really help him. He’s come so far and he’s really happy with his courses.”

Isaac was the one that called during that first Thursday fries run Mike was a part of. He recalls the nicknames and the fact that Isaac was missing Stiles, not to mention how fond Stiles sounded and the fact that Isaac wanted to go to college with him. Maybe Isaac was the boyfriend?

“Anyways,” Stiles ends his rant. “I told you it’s a bit much, but I like knowing they’re okay and getting by and if I only call one, the others will get jealous. There’s only so much Stiles to go around and everyone wants a piece,” he grins.

Mike thinks Stiles has a weird relationship with his friends from back home, but also that he doesn’t want to create any friction with his roommate and best friend on campus, so he just nods and smiles a bit.

“But how about you?” Stiles returns the question. “You never call home, at least, not that I’ve witnessed.”

Since Stiles decided to share, something he rarely does, Mike knows he should return the favor, so he shrugs. “Not really much to call.”

“Is no one there?” Stiles asks, all concern.

“My mom and dad are, but you know,” Mike shrugs. “Dad just cares about my grades and mom is always prying, like she thinks I can’t manage by myself or something. It’s fucking annoying. I’m an adult now, she doesn’t need to hover.”

Stiles frowns at his reply, then bites his lip as if he isn’t sure he should say something, before he breaks and blurts: “But isn’t that nice? To have someone who worries?”

“What?” Mike hadn’t thought Stiles would pick his mom’s side, though maybe he should have seen it coming.

“I mean, I don’t know your situation of course, but I get it,” Stiles shrugs, backing off a bit. “You’ve always been her baby, who she saw every single day and knew when you had a bad day, when you got a good grade, etc, now she has nothing and you don’t tell her, so her mind makes up all the horrible things that could have happened to you between calls, resulting in what is practically an interrogation until she is satisfied that you’re truly as okay as you claim you are… Wow, that was one hell of s sentence,” Stiles ends his keen observation with a joke to lighten it up a bit, since he got way too into that.

Mike attempts to wade through the sea of words just slung to his head, before he realizes Stiles kind of has a point. He breathes: “How do you even know that?”

Stiles scratches his nose and shrugs: “I might be a bit of the mom-friend.” And Mike is reminded of the fact that Stiles is really weird with his friends and that he probably knows that because he does the exact same thing his mother does.

Next Sunday, he reports all this to the study group, which Stiles has had to skip out on, because someone called at midnight, which obviously meant Stiles immediately packed is bags and left, something that is more common than Mike would like.

“That’s a lot of friends,” Maya comments once he is done. “But it’s sweet he cares so much about them.”

“He cares mom-levels about them,” Mike points out. “I’m telling you, he got so intense while defending my mom, like it was personal.”

“So, he’s a bit intense about is friends,” Nikki shrugs. “One girl in my class is making a shrine to her boyfriend as a final project. We’re not at that level yet, so I think we’re good.”

“He took off in the middle of the night on a three hour drive, because someone called,” Mike replies.

“I don’t think it’s really any of our concern,” Aalif interrupts, before it can get out of hand.

“But what if they’re like a creepy cult or something?” Nikki asks.

Aalif levels her a look as he says: “I don’t think Stiles would get drawn into a cult.”

“You don’t know that,” she raises a brow. “It happens, even to smart people like Stiles.”

“He has a metal baseball bat by his bed,” Mike offers, not sure why he is backing Nikki in this debate.

“He does?” Maya asks, a bit concerned.

They all now look at Mike and he suddenly realizes that they’ve never been into their room, which is why he has become Stiles source number 1. He shrugs: “Yeah, he took it with him when he left for home tonight. It’s all damaged and shit, though I think some carvings are intentional. They look a bit like runes.”

Nikki raises a brow as she looks at Aalif and says: “But you don’t think Stiles could have joined a cult.”

“I don’t think a cult would have allowed him to leave for college, not to mention do criminology,” Maya offers. “I think he’s following a seminar about cults right now actually.”

“Okay, but even without a cult, still suspicious and weird,” Nikki huffs. “And it’s still a possibility, right, Mike?”

Mike startles a bit unsure how he got on the pro-cult side and not sure he isn’t agreeing. “I mean, he does have all these herbs and some weird books, but those could be from the library.”

And now they’re giving him more looks. Great. He puts his hands up defensively: “It’s not like I know, alright. Stiles never exactly cooks, maybe he just likes the smell of the herbs. And the books could be an aesthetic thing, though he keeps him under his bed in a box if they’re his.”

“What sort of books?” Kai asks after a beat.

“They’re leather bound. Old,” Mike shrugs. “I haven’t seen him with them much. He shoves them out of sight when I get in and the only times he hasn’t was when he thought I was asleep or very drunk.”

“Creepy,” Maya shivers.

“Come on, this is Stiles,” Aalif says. “He is not in some creepy cult. Do you all even hear yourselves? Seriously. Now, the midterms are coming up and I would like to get some passing grades.”

That gets a few boos and boring’s thrown at him, but Aalif doesn’t falter and they do all giggle a bit at the ridiculousness of Stiles in a cult. Before they can truly get anything done, Nikke snorts: “Maybe he tripped into it,” sending them all into giggles again.

It isn’t a joke anymore when Stiles reappears again on their Thursday fry run his face more bruise than skin and his hands both wrapped in bandages.

“Stiles!” Kai exclaims, already out of his seat. “What happened to you?”

“Hey there, guys,” Stiles attempts a grin, wincing at the action. “I’m good, I’m good.” He eases himself into their booth, wrapped fingers taking some fries and popping them into his mouth as the rest watches him with careful eyes. Of course he notices as he chews slowly, whispering to himself: “Knew Derek was right about the liquid diet. Fucker.”

“What happened?” Aalif asks when Stiles seems like he is going to ignore the whole situation that is his face and hands. “Stiles, if someone did this to do, you have to go to the police, file a report. You can sue.”

“Of course you’d say that, lawyer-man,” Stiles grins again, falling flat once more when his already split lip, re-splits and starts to bleed. “Ah, fuck,” he hisses, grabbing a napkin to press against it as he makes a disgruntled face.

“Stiles,” Nikki snaps.

“What?” he replies as if it’s not incredibly obvious.

Mike surprises himself by jumping in: “What the hell happened to you, man?”

It dawns on Stiles that they’re not letting it go and he sags a bit in his seat. Then says: “Nothing, I promise. It was just an accident, really.”

That’s just a thousand red flags there and Maya takes the lead for them, putting a hand on Stiles shoulder and saying in a soft voice: “We’re not going to judge you, promise. But right now, not knowing is so much worse.”

“Derek told me not to come,” Stiles sighs after a moment. “I knew it was stupid, but I wanted to come. I mean, he only had Boyd and Erica with him, because all the others were too far away. That wasn’t enough.”

“What were they doing?” Nikki asks, unable to keep her mouth shut and be patient.

Luckily, Stiles isn’t silenced by it. “Derek lives on the preserve, it’s in the middle of the forest and something was killing the animals. It was a mountain lion, we have a lot of animal attacks. They wanted to take it out before it moved into the town.”

Mike remembers Stiles telling him Erica was a park ranger, but Boyd was a carpenter and he knew nothing about Derek, which is weird on its own. Stiles loved bragging about his friends, or would casually comment about them or pick up the phone with their name on his lips, but Mike had before now heard the name Derek only once.

“Of course I tripped over a few branches in the dark,” Stiles laughs self-deprecatingly. “I should have known better. I’m a klutz, you know. Though I did get a hit in, before I went down in a not so glorious blaze of branches and a curse.”

“You hit a mountain lion?” Kai whisper yells.

“Yeah, with my bat,” Stiles shrugs, like it’s a normal thing.

“Dude, are you insane?” Mike asks.

“Oh, okay, I see what’s happening here,” Stiles backs up, like they didn’t make sense before now. “I didn’t want to admit I fell, because it’s embarrassing as fuck. And like, I know I’m clumsy, but after all the running away from shit trying to kill me, one would think I’d have gotten better at it, but noooo. I am surrounded by people who can do crazy shit, while I hit my head on a fucking branch, because why not.”

“Stiles!” Nikke cuts him off. “Running away from things trying to kill you? What the hell.”

“I was getting there,” Stiles says, though it’s obvious to all of them that he was getting further and further away from the point. “When I was in high school there were all these murders in town. My friend was targeted at one point, I got caught up in it. Nothing makes a friendship like getting locked into a school and running from a crazed murderer or holding someone up in a pool for two hours. It was a whole thing. Plus my father is the sheriff.”

“What the fuck,” Nikki voices the shared sentiment after a moment to process.

“Wait, here I have proof,” Stiles taps away on his phone, before showing a news article with the tagline reading: Five teens trapped in high school with murderer still on the loose

After letting them read it, he puts his phone in his pocket and proudly says: “We’re having a project about crimes in our hometown right now and I have an advantage over the rest.”

“That’s- That’s not-” Maya stutters. “…Stiles…”

“What?” he says confused, as if what he just bragged about isn’t heartbreaking. God, no wonder he’s a bit fucked from it all. Mike would want to know if all his friends are okay if he nearly saw them all killed alongside him.

“Are you, like, okay?” Mike asks.

“Probably not, like in general,” Stiles tells him honestly, “but I am really fine. As fine as I get anyway. Derek says I have to work on that, but he’s not the boss of me and I actually am doing better. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Maya smiles kindly. “We just want to know you’re okay. Thanks for trusting us with that. Did you get those wounds checked out?”

“I did,” he returns her smile. “Got a clean bill of health and everything. Dad wouldn’t let me drive back before that.”

“Good,” Aalif says.

They’re all quiet for a moment, before the thing that has been niggling on his mind comes out. He asks: “Who is this Derek person anyway?”

Stiles regards them all for a moment, before saying: “I don’t think we reached that level of friendship yet. Sorry. Like, you’re all my friends and stuff and I like bragging about my other friends to you, but I don’t know.”

“What?” Mike exclaims as Nikki points out: “You just told us you nearly got murdered, but telling us about a friend is a step too far?”

“You know, that is actually a good point,” Stiles says. “I must still be a bit lightheaded from everything, I normally don’t tell people that.”

“Should we take you to a hospital? Kai asks worriedly.

“No, no, I’m kidding, I think,” Stiles jokes, before quickly adding, “I am truly kidding, please don’t take me to a hospital. God, no one appreciates my humor.”

“Stiles,” Aalif sighs tiredly when Stiles deftly gets them on a different topic than Derek.

“Derek is my husband,” Stiles finally tells them, shutting them all up as they stare at them with their jaws on the floor. That explains Stiles trips home and lack of partying or otherwise getting laid, he had a whole fucking husband waiting for him at home.

None of them could know that Stiles’ reluctance to talk about Derek and his relation is that as a prominent alpha, broadcasting that they were ‘mated’ (and yes, Derek, that term is still weird to a human) isn’t really smart. Especially after everything that had already come to Beacon Hills.

“Y- Your husband?!?” Kai squeaks.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you all,” Stiles groans. “You can’t imagine the rumor mill at home when it happened, like seriously, people were acting like I was signing my life away to the devil or something.”

“Why?” Maya asks and Mike has to agree. Marriage so early isn’t exactly uncommon, it just took them by surprise this time. What would make this different.

“I-” Stiles looks genuinely sheepish, “I might have gotten him arrested for a murder he didn’t commit and stuff. But that was like, what? Two, three years ago.”

Immediately their table exploded, voices overlapping, because – again – what the fuck.

“He didn’t do it!” Stiles exclaims, shutting them all up. “He was framed. Set up. Look, I know he wasn’t the killer. Derek saved my life, like a bazillion times at this point. I love him.”

Despite the bruises, the look on his face is quite clear with love oozing off of it. Like full on, ‘Disney princess, soulmate, found the one’-love. It’s a bit disgusting in Mike’s terribly single opinion.

“Well, then I want to see him,” Nikki demands. “You can’t tell us you got swept off your feet by a mysterious would be murderer and not expect us to want to see him.”

Stiles shoots them all a suspicious look, which is pretty rude all things considering, but Mike lets it slide in favor of satiating his curiosity. Then Stiles pulls out his phone, showing them a sequence of pictures that said more than words could.

It’s obviously their wedding day. They’re both in full suits, standing in a forest with the sunset hitting them, putting them in a glow of light. Derek is apparently a handsome, muscled man, who screams not bad boy as much as serial killer.

The first picture is pretty standard. They’re looking at each other, Derek’s bad boy vibe killed by the fact that he is smiling softly at Stiles, who is smiling back. Derek’s smile is toothachingly fond in a way that Mike feels in his chest.

In the second picture, the murder vibes are back in full force, with Derek glaring at Stiles, who looks like he’s saying something, his face smug like it’s an inside joke, his hands up to gesture like he always does.

Then, in the last picture, Stiles has Derek’s cheeks between his hand, face contorted in something Mike would call a coo, if Derek didn’t look like the kind of guy who would allow anything resembling a coo being directed at him. Though, Mike might have to rethink that assumption, because while Derek is raising one murderous eyebrow, the smile has returned again.

“I am his favourite annoyance,” Stiles announces proudly. “It’s wonderful how much bugging someone can do.”

And all of them would have guessed Derek was the one, who had pursued Stiles, but here Stiles is, telling them all about how he is a master at befriending people and Derek honestly needed someone to tell him how horrible he was at decorating or socializing, before fixing it for him.

Beside him, Nikki mutters: “Dear god, he has an ‘I can fix him’-mentality. We’re doomed.”

“I heard that!” Stiles exclaims indignantly, though he doesn’t deny it per se. But when Nikki’s soda arrives, it explodes in her face and Mike would almost suspect Stiles had something to do with it if he had to go off the smug look.

They drop the topic of Stiles injuries and apparent husband, for the evening, which Stiles seems grateful for at least, before catching him up on campus gossip. Still, they keep their eye on him and it’s hard to forget with his face all fucked up.

When they leave, Maya leans in and whispers to Mike: “Keep an eye on him for us, okay?”

He nods quickly, before hurrying after Stiles, who is yelling at him to hurry or he’ll drive back without him.

Mike also keeps his word, so when Stiles’ phone starts to ring, he pretends to be engrossed in his book, while secretly keeping an ear on Stiles’ conversation. He usually doesn’t listen in, unless something is so weird it breaks through his mental barriers, but he feels like this can be an exception.

“Hey there, big guy,” Stiles greets, voice much gentler than Mike ever remembered it being.

“Yeah, worrywolf, I’m fine,” Stiles tells whoever is on the other side. “Dad wouldn’t have let me drive otherwise and neither would you for that matter. You checked me yourself before letting me go, quite thoroughly I might add.”

And that last part is definitely an innuendo, dear god, Mike did not want to know that. However, it is confirmation that it’s Derek on the line, so he listens even harder.

“I know I overdid it, but no one got hurt except a few bruises on me,” Stiles argues. “And I get hurt even when I’m not in danger, you know how doors and the air are my biggest enemies. Come on, Derek. If it was bad, I would have told you. We promised remember? You made it part of our vows, because you are a complete softie.”

Okay, Mike isn’t going to lie, that’s actually pretty cute and he slightly hates that he’s becoming team Derek when all he knows is that he was (falsely) arrested for murder and married to Stiles, who comes running home when called on.

“I promise not to run into danger again,” Stiles tells Derek. “Well, I promise not to run needlessly into danger again and honestly one could argue that this time wasn’t needlessly, because you are my damsel in distress as much as you want to cast me in that roll.” A beat. “Yes, I will never let you forget the pool, we discussed this.”

“Yes, Derek, I always take care of my wounds,” Stiles rolls his eyes. “I’ll even send you picture updates and call you every day. How does that sound?”

Oh god, Derek is actually a concerned boyfriend – excuse me, husband – who needs updates and called the day Stiles left because he was worried. Mike is never going to be able to tell the others that without it turning into a riot.

“Great, because I am going to bed,” Stiles says. “Midterms are coming up and while spending time with you is a hundred times better, I actually need to pass these if I ever want to get a degree. So, goodbye, I love you.”

A bit of silence, then a very love-filled chuckle: “Of course I’m going to think of you. I always sleep better with you, you know that. Now bye. Love you, again and always.”

Fucking hell, Mike is going to die of a toothache, caused by his happily married roommate, which is honestly where his life is at right now.

Though, Mike can honestly live with a weird roommate. It’s a source of entertainment and he now can rest knowing Stiles has someone watching out for him, preventing him from going off the deep end, which was an honest concern.

Stiles is weird, but with what Mike knows, he’s allowed to be a bit strange and he honestly doesn’t want to know more than he does.

A/N:

Disclaimer: I am not shitting on parties, if you like them, go nuts. I just don’t drink and hate social interaction, so I wouldn't know how to write a good party scene even if I wanted to, lmao.

Idk how well it came through, but Stiles is magic and burned his hands while overdoing it in the fight he got injured in. He also totally exploded Nikki’s drink as petty revenge, his herbs are also related to magic.

#rr writing #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #sterek #derek x stiles #teen wolf stiles #derek hale #OCs #college student stiles stillinski

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