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kaigayoso · 5 months

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2023: too much

i used to think that my writing would suffer when i wasn’t depressed anymore and that turned out to be somewhat true. not that i was like debilitatingly depressed in the way that i used to be when i was younger but like the general feeling of depression that comes with a mass amount of instability in your life.

this might have been the first year post initial covid where i actually had the mental capacity to process what the fuck just happened in the last few years. i changed jobs, i moved across the country, i am a completely different person than i was in 2020 or 2021 even. and i love who i’ve become.

writing that feels somewhat foreign, and acknowledging it to other people even moreso. liking who i am feels like a betrayal to the persona that has gotten me through the past couple years - someone who pushes through amidst all of the self hatred and flagellation to achieve and earn that big, beautiful life.

i turned 30 this year and to be honest it’s been something i’ve been looking forward to for years. there’s a capricorn trope that we benjamin button as we age, meaning that after an initial set of hardship years in our youth, we learn to ease up as the fruits of our labor begin to flourish. we somehow act younger as we get older. whether as a coping mechanism or confirmation bias, i have believed that with my entire being. i don’t think i’ve ever spiritually felt this young and alive before.

for those of you that are new on this read, hey. this is year 5 of this format and year 8 of me taking the time in december to actually recap what this year meant to me. truthfully this has turned into a thing i cherish and love greatly so i appreciate anyone that reads these as it is incredibly personal.

i read all of my past editions before writing this year’s and it’s crazy to have a pretty accurate depiction of you in a single instance, i feel like i write these for future me as i do for present and past me. there’s something here directly correlative to some inner child work which we’ll get to in a bit but i don’t think i have an articulate way of phrasing why i love these essays so much except for the picture of me getting to share these essays with my future kids so they could see that their dad has had some really incredible memories, insights, and people he surrounded himself with. when my dad died, all we had left were his letters to us over the years and i remember thinking how sudden it was that these became finite. i think that’s when i realized that there is a set number of times to tell someone you love them. how can you create something tangible to embody that love?

here we are in december of 2023 and i will look back on this year as the year that i realized i was enough. and what a beautiful feeling that is.

i got coffee a few months ago with my philosopher friend ian (we met on twitter, whole thing) and we went back and forth a few times about the concept of peace. i waxed poetic on something and immediately felt the twinge of cringe, that i had boasted a little too much or was pushing too far on my friend, and apologized for the casual narcissism. he asked why i felt the need to add a caveat to my statement and i didn’t have an answer other than the honest one: i didn’t want you to think that i thought of myself like that.

there’s a need for the ability to be able to sit with your feelings and discomfort and work through them. as a compartmentalization king, this has been one of the more difficult things i’ve had to learn but think i have gotten infinitely better at it. i can sit in silence with myself at the table and have no anxiety about it. what no one told me about is how this needs to be learned for the good times too. mind blown! learning to stand still and be loved is the hardest thing of all.

everyone in my circle is incredibly ambitious, something that has really pushed me. you really are who you surround yourself with. i think my close friends has had multiple iterations over the years: proximity based when i was in various levels of schooling, history based as i transitioned into post grad life and began to build a life for my own in a city away from my closest friends at the time, and now this current version, one that probably is a mix of both but with my newfound identity permeating through it all. i get to look at my friends and see my favorite version of myself. isn’t that what friends are supposed to do? bring out the beautiful parts of you?

i’ve had a couple rough patches in the last few years but i’ve gotten through them with the help of my friends, both current and past. i think the funniest thing about 30 has been how my relationship with time has fully changed. i used to feel like i had so much time to do everything, that my life was moving at a clip that was wholly unsustainable but so fun and so full of color. this year, i couldn’t feel more differently. at some point in the spring this year, i felt it; i felt the switch flip. i was now acutely aware of just how fast time really is.

this dichotomy was a bit of a mental jungle gym for a bit, on the work side i could not wait to wake up every day. we’ve had a really incredible year at work and i think that’s reflected in just how excited i am to get to it every morning. weeks flew by this year because i was always building something that i was excited about and there’s no better feeling that seeing something you’ve spent so much time on begin to bloom. i felt it in my clients, the work we’re doing, my team, and even in myself. in the earlier years of range, the job felt a bit like a jacket that was a little too big on me and now it fits. i’m really proud. personally, it became important to treat my friendships and personal relationships as a priority which counterintuitively meant slowing down. when you factor in work travel, events, conferences, and a life in two cities, it becomes very easy to just be a passenger and engage with what’s in front of you.

a life in constant transit requires intention. i needed to slow down and make sure i was carving out time for relationships that were important to me. for me that meant being there for the small stuff, the random nights for drinks after work or running errands on the weekends. i was in nyc for the entire summer basically (a 32 day stint and a 28 day stint, two of my longest in one place in years) and i got to enjoy the familiarity of being around. i was always down for a drink or dinner or adventure and my friends knew it - i was reliable in that way and i cherished it.

something happened last year where i lost this exact cornerstone of my identity. i didn’t really know what was important to me. don’t get me wrong, last year was net positive and special for a number of reasons but that was not me there. i have an unruly habit of editorializing people and situations (i’m a storyteller at heart, that’s showbiz baby) mixed with a bit of intuition, i was so overly focused on preparing for whatever my mind could come up with that it put me at a distance from actually experiencing my life. i was so worried about losing people, i was convinced i was off my rocker, i was concerned with how i was being perceived, what my narrative was… it’s all very not me. well, actual me. i used to think i was psychic until my therapist told me that hypervigiliance was a trauma response and that i was just really good at context clues. last year i continued to get more of what i thought i wanted and it just kept feeling off. i chose to ignore the feeling.

i remember a conversation i had with my friend TJ years ago before life got really crazy where he praised my predictability. if there was a wedding or birthday or promotion or new relationship, i made it a point to be there for my friends. i was running a close circle of 50 people and it was what i wanted. a few years ago i realized i was so involved in my friends’ lives that i hadn’t really built a life for myself. i had a huge circle of friends and a great job but i was purposely neglecting building anything for me. i felt trapped by the weight of my own definition of “being a good friend/person.” i was starting to hate myself for not having my own life.

i’ve been selfish the last few years, there isn’t really a way around it. and i think it’s fine to admit that, i’m human. i’ve been known to have debilitating FOMO over the years and last year i began to have FOMO on what i was “missing out in my life” by going and doing the right thing and being there for my friends in their big moments. i missed weddings, birthday, baptisms, all because i had created this narrative that the life i was living would be negatively affected if i were to miss anything that served the narrative. i began to resent some of my friends for having lives that began to diverge from mine, the ease of commonality we used to share now replaced with other friends/relationships/priorities and catch ups now spent trying to find new ground other than old memories. in return, i began to weaponize my absence in their lives as my life continued to grow bigger.

seeing that in writing is pretty difficult honestly, it’s not that fun to see an imperfect side of yourself in writing no matter how obvious. i didn’t know who i was without my friends and to see them fall in love, start families, and enter a new chapter together was really hard. i read a long time ago that the true measure of a friend is the ability to be unconditionally happy for them, and i’ve actually never had an issue doing that. and now, all i could feel was left behind. so i did what i do best, and i ran. i stayed away for a while.

i moved to nyc because it had the greatest concentration of my remaining single friends and, we will call it what it was, it was a very drastic effort by me to run away. so many of my problems were LA-centric, the people i left behind or wanted to leave behind, a life that i had built from the ground up that used to bring me such effortless joy now felt suffocating. i went to where i could find predictability again at a cost that was just so high.

i’ve spent a lot of this year making up for what i did last year. i made up with a ton of my old friends, ate a lot of shit that i absolutely deserved. i moved without telling people or making a big deal out of it because i didn’t want to come to terms with the fact that things were changing. i’ve always hated change. it was embarrassing to admit that i didn’t know how to grieve the end of an incredible chapter of my life so i instead chose to prolong it by not admitting that it was over. i’d be back in LA a ton, it’s not like anything would change… ya ok brother.

it was important to me that i go back and make things right this year. i was going to make this life in transit thing work. i was committed to staying in nyc (i genuinely love it and view it as the best thing i could’ve done for myself) and i realized the only way for me to be able to enjoy it was to go back and deal with all of the damage i had caused. these were relationships that used to be the most important in my life and people i knew intimately well, if i wanted to keep them in my life then i needed to kill my ego and actually do the work.

there’s an amazing vogue article i read about talking to ex-friends and what you can learn from those talks about yourself. as a former people pleaser, this was pretty much the apocalypse - admitting that you let someone down and coming to terms with the consequences. for the sake of brevity (we’re on page 4 and i still got a few life lessons to go) i’ll summarize them as best as i can (initials changed):

A & B were my two best friends/former roommates in LA and were the last people i saw when i left for new york, things were great then. at some point in the months after, i had gotten it into my head that they hated me as they continued to post with our old friends and i distanced myself from them completely. when we spoke, there were issues we needed to discuss together but we were all surprised that none of us ever hated each other. we had all missed each other but they were never going to voice it to me if i had not taken the initiative to give them the forum to do so. my narrative about them turned out to be completely false. now they are two of my first texts whenever i have LA plans, we are actually in the best place we’ve ever been as friends.

C was my best friend during covid and is genuinely one of the greatest people i have ever met. our friendship developed so beautifully over the covid years going from a party friend to a hangout friend to a first call friend. we connected on all levels as sons of immigrants and wildly ambitious entertainment execs and had such fundamentally deep conversations that we had talked about being in each other’s weddings. he could’ve been one of my best men. naturally avoidant, i remember a story one of our mutual friends told about the only fight they had ever gotten in and the drastic measures he had to take to get C to talk to him about it honestly so they could work through it. as our friendship began to deterioriate with my move, he tried in his own way to get me to talk to our friends and i didn’t. we talked recently about appreciating the friendship we used to have but there wasn’t a way forward for us. i had hurt him deeply. he didn’t think the trust could ever be regained and i felt that too.

D was one of my best friends growing up and, at a wedding during covid, he and my old friends completely iced me out. a rare social situation where i ended up completely alone. that one hurt. we sat and he talked about how i made them all feel. like i was always going to be onto something bigger and better than them, that for how nostalgic i tend to be that i would never actually turn around and look back for them. i didn’t have an answer other than i’m sorry. we probably will never be close again but there’s no beef here.

there’s something inherently freeing about coming to terms with being imperfect. it was really important to me that i created a space for my friends to have a really difficult and honest conversation with me. i know i can get defensive and emotional and shut down and i wanted these to be productive because i wanted them in my life again. the commonality i found in all of these conversations was the acknowledgement of the love that was still there. it is really hard to look at someone you know everything about and see anything other than love in their eyes. these conversations were a result of our shared history and our future, or lack thereof, was not up to me. and i had to be okay with it. in the case of C, there had been too much time between now and then. he met someone he will probably marry. his life had moved on without me.

after these conversations, i had nothing left in LA to be afraid of. and i felt that. i had dealt with so much of the trauma interlaced with the city and my life on the west coast that I actually started to feel the passage of time move once again. in a good way! in the wake of these conversations, i had tapped back into the me that i wanted to be, that i had always been up to that point. i showed up for my friends. i did what i said i would. i have people i care about deeply and they care about me. with this newfound momentum, i started to try and do the things i’ve always wanted to do. i started standing up for myself and advocating for my own needs. i stopped saying yes when i wanted to say no.

at some point in the last few months, i started showing up as the version of me i wanted to be. my life started to feel different. i want to use every cliche in the book here because it is that beautiful to me.

i’ve spent a lot of my therapy sessions lately trying to come up with the right way to describe this so it’s a bit unfinished but i’ve landed on the idea of assured confidence. i don’t have many questions about who i am anymore. i’ve operated from a place of fear and abandonment in my personal relationships for so long and i finally can begin to enjoy the big, beautiful life that i’ve created for myself. there are people that really love me and now i can finally feel it without questioning it.

i wanted to end this with one of my favorite realizations this year. yes, i have a fear of abandonment. yes, i have a fear of change. but the greatest of them all has been the fear of being too much. this one has always cut a bit deeper given the code switch of growing up closeted, you learn how to audit yourself in real time so that you aren’t too crazy or emotional or dramatic or gay. you learn how to mute your own brightness for the sake of being more palatable to others.

moreso in the last 2 years than any other i’ve been called my most hated word: dramatic. and i am, just to be clear. i don’t shy away from the fact that sometimes things mean more to me and i have an emotional reaction that can be outsized. i’ve had that word weaponized against me in every way this year, from former friends to peers to people who honestly don’t know a single thing about me. i wish i listened to my gut in those moments, things were off and i was right the entire time. but what’s the point of being right if everyone is worse off for it. i was lamenting a few weeks ago about the most recent of these situations and jack started laughing, to which i had a totally reasonable reaction of having a complete meltdown. he goes “it can get dramatic but you aren’t dramatic. you just care. a lot. it comes with the territory. and to be cared for by you is one of the greatest gifts i have in my life right now, i wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

friendship is a privilege with a price. you need to be around people who understand the first part and are decisive on the second. whether intentional or not, i have spent so much of the last few months surrounded by only friends i can be my entire self around. and i can feel it. i go out and feel fully present, one of my best friends asks me to be an usher in his wedding so yes i will obviously cry at the bar, i make my friends text me when they get home and they appreciate it, i tell them i love them every chance i get and they say it back. for the first time, i feel like i can rest. like i am enough. like i am loved. because i am.

i can’t tell you what the meaning of life is but i can tell you the meaning of my life in this moment is making the people around me feel seen and loved. i love it and it makes me happy. i hope i remember this when it’s hard. i talk about grief all the time because it’s a feeling i know initimately well, it’s a feeling born of loss. this year i discovered the love in grief. it’s in all of the unsaid i love yous, the things you never got to do together, the song that reminds me of you, the quote that speaks for you. there’s a lot of people i have had to say goodbye to or have to love from a distance, it’s the nature of change. i hope they get everything they’ve ever wanted and i don’t hear a single thing about it. i’ve come to appreciate the collage of love that i am. i am everything and everyone i have ever loved.

dear orpheus had one job: not to look back. he could have had it all if he just hadn’t looked back. i think i will always look back, it’s who i am

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elftwink · 3 years

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why is it when im like “i like asshole characters” ppl are like “yes i love villains” like good for you but that is not what i said. why are we conflating being kind of a dick with being an antagonist. you know sometimes villains are perfectly good natured and have great manners and sometimes heroes are shitty and annoying and rude. dickhead protagonist rights. mild mannered villain rights. whether or not someone is nice is wholly unrelated to whether they are good or evil in the context of the narrative

#good idea generator #yes this is about that one post again i cant help it its flooding my notifs at all times #to be fair most people get this perfectly fine and also there is a LOT of overlap between assholes and villains #and its fine if your asshole fav is also the villain. i just dont like the assumption that when i say asshole i mean villain #if i mean villain i would have said that but i said asshole. have you guys never met someone who by all rights is a Decent Person #but also just like... sucks?? awful to be around???#ALSO ITS FUNNY #ITS FUNNY WHEN THE VILLAIN IS NICE AND THE HERO IS MEAN. I STAND BY THAT #oh wait. oh no. thats probably part of why i liked sh*rlock so much #i stand by my statement still but i am feeling a Little More Cringe about it

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retrievablememories · 3 years

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three’s company | kai & taemin (m)

title: three’s company pairing: taemin x reader x kai genre: smut, fwb request: “hello!! can I req a kai and taemin with female reader smut fic?” word count: 4.4k warnings: MMF threesome, oral (female and male receiving), deep throating, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t try at home 🚫), cumshots, some spanking, taemin has dom tendencies, the aftercare is a bit lacking i think sjdfklfsk a/n: i have not written a proper threesome fic in so long, this didn’t come as easy to me as i thought it would 🤧

at the beginning of the fic—if you don’t know about taemin’s infamous slippers here are some references lol

“Open the door for your best friends!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Taemin’s head peeks through the crack in his front door only a few seconds later, and he grins at the sight of you and Kai standing on his front step, overnight bags in hand. “Took you long enough.”

“We would’ve got here sooner if Y/N didn’t take a hundred years to find her favorite slippers,” Kai says, snorting.

“I can’t go anywhere without them, they’re part of my bedtime routine,” you protest, stepping inside as Taemin opens the door wider for the two of you to come in. “And I am not wearing Taemin’s rat fur shoes as a consolation prize like he tried to make me do last time.”

Taemin rolls his eyes at your complaint. “Rat fur slippers or not, you have no problem stealing all my other clothes.”

“It’s not my fault your clothes are so cozy.”

“You say that every time you steal our stuff,” Kai points out, walking past you both to make himself comfortable on Taemin’s couch. “How many of my poor hoodies are hanging up in your closet, never to be worn by me again?”

“Just the right amount,” you insist, dropping your bag to the floor and jumping onto the couch with Kai, splaying yourself across his legs and the couch cushions. He grins at you like you’re an overexcited kid and leans against the back of the couch.

“You’re so goofy. I hope you don’t plan on having me take care of you all weekend like the last time you ate too much sugar and crashed like hell,” Kai says, tapping his finger on your forehead and making you swat his hand away.

“No, I’m not gonna do that again...I don’t need to be babysat, Jongin!”

Taemin passes by the two of you on the couch and pinches your thigh as he goes; fortunately for him, he’s fast enough to escape a slap from you. “Don’t worry...even if it does happen, we’ll take good care of you.” He leaves with a joking smile as he goes into the other room, though the teasing note in his tone makes you wonder for a brief moment.

—

A few hours later, the three of you are in the kitchen preparing snacks for your movie night—which usually ends up with you and Kai doing most of the work because Taemin tends to be a mess in the kitchen. Kai’s phone pings from the living room, and he leaves the both of you alone to go check what it is. Taemin sidles up to your side as soon as Kai exits the room, and you give him a questioning look when his arm goes around your waist.

“What do you want,” you deadpan.

“Don’t be so mean to me.” His tone is playful, but the lips at your ear are not so innocent. “We haven’t even seen each other in a while.”

“I know, which is why I’m astounded at your inability to keep it in your pants. You should’ve had plenty of practice by now.” Taemin gives an amused laugh, his eyes watching the doorway the entire time, and while the coast is still clear he takes the opportunity to press his hot lips against your neck. You shy away from him, but only because you don’t want to get caught.

One game of Truth or Dare with Taemin more than a year ago had gotten out of hand—a game the three of you usually played together, but Kai had been busy with EXO’s promotions for Obsession at the time—and the next thing you knew, you were sleeping with one of your good friends.

You knew that friends-with-benefits arrangements often ended in flames—you’d seen it happen too often with your other friends and their sexual partners—but you didn’t regret anything about the situation. You both enjoyed the sex, and it hadn’t managed to ruin your friendship, so neither of you saw any real reason to stop. No regrets—except for maybe the fact that you were keeping it secret from Kai.

It was Taemin’s suggestion and you went along with it, though you weren’t really sure what difference it made. He always acted as if letting the younger man know would be too much shock for him to take, or maybe he’d find it awkward to continue hanging out with you two, which you found ridiculous (it turned out fine with him, why did it need to be kept from Kai?) but you weren’t interested in arguing about it.

Taemin looks like he’s about to say something else, but he’s suddenly zipping away from your side just as quick as he came. You see the reason why when Kai walks back into the room seconds later, seemingly unaware of Taemin’s earlier antics. You screw up your mouth and glare at Taemin for almost getting caught when all this secrecy was his idea.

Kai raises his eyebrows. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me Taemin is bothering you again.”

“When is he not?”

“Stop pretending like you don’t love it.” Taemin pulls out aegyo that makes both you and Kai cringe like you’ve been stung. Taemin laughs at both your expressions, though he’s also a bit embarrassed for even trying to use the cute card on you; you rarely fell for those tricks of his.

Kai shakes his head. “This is going to be a long weekend.”

—

Despite Taemin having more than enough space in his home to host all three of you in your own rooms, you all end up in Taemin’s bed when you decide to turn in for the night. Kai swore he was only stopping in to talk before going back to his own room, but he never left his side of the bed even after the overhead lights were turned out. You lie in between the two men the whole time, enjoying their body heat on either side of you and the comfort of having them nearby.

Kai is already knocked out on your left, but Taemin remains awake, his eyes sparkling with devilment in the dark. He angles his body more towards you, lying on his side, and you mean to ask what he’s doing and why he’s not asleep yet when his hand lands on your thigh.

Your lips part and your mouth moves aimlessly for a few moments as his hand works up and down your thigh, warming you up. “Jongin…” you finally whisper, and both of you know that you speaking the other man’s name is not you trying to call out for him—it’s a warning.

“...is asleep,” Taemin says, unfazed.

“This is wrong,” you mutter, but you don’t make a move to stop him when his hand comes closer to the space between your thighs. Taemin brushes his fingers across your pubic mound as he reaches his hand over to your other thigh, teasing you. “You were the one who wanted to keep all this hidden. Remember that.”

“Correct,” he responds, still sounding perfectly casual about the entire situation. “And we still can, if you just be quiet for a little while and let me do this.”

“Can’t you wait until later?” Your voice comes out strained. When his hand inches closer to your inner thigh again, you don’t know whether you want to ask him to stop for his own good or go further. “Like when he’s in the shower or something?”

Taemin slides his hand fully between your legs now, the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit. “I have to touch you.” He says it like he doesn’t know what will happen to him if he doesn’t get the opportunity now. The tinge of neediness in his voice breaks something inside you and makes you want to relent without a single question more.

The sudden movement of his palm on the most sensitive part of your body causes you to jerk, and your elbow hits Kai right in the side by accident. For a tense moment, you think maybe you haven’t woken him, but then he grumbles and gently shoves you back. “Why are you elbowing me?” he murmurs, and then you freeze when he turns his head and opens his eyes to look at you. His eyes are only cracked halfway, but even in the dim room you know there is a good chance he can see how Taemin’s hand is now halfway tucked into your sleep pants as he begins his descent into your underwear. You stay stock-still as if that’ll make him unable to see you, which feels as ridiculous as it sounds.

“I-it was an accident, sorry,” you stammer. Kai doesn’t respond right away, too busy blinking his eyes against the dark. Then he says,

“If you two are going to do that, go in another room.” He scoffs and turns over, and you’re mortified. He sounded completely nonchalant about finding the two of you in a compromising position, which makes you wonder; does he somehow already know about the arrangement you two have? Maybe neither of you were ever really as sneaky as you’d thought.

“You should join us,” Taemin suggests, throwing yet another wrench into the situation. Kai’s body stiffens beside you, and there’s silence before he faces you both again.

“Join?”

“Aren’t you being a little—”

“Yes, join.” Taemin interrupts you, and you roll your eyes, pinching his arm. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t thought about it before.”

“What does that mean?” you blurt out, jerking your head to look at Taemin. What secrets have they been keeping from you? Kai looks equally bewildered, which makes you more confused.

“I—when have I suggested anything like that?” Kai argues, though his voice is uncertain.

“You don’t have to. You are easy to read, Jongin.” Kai makes a disapproving noise at Taemin’s statement.

“Easy to read? What about you thinking you were being sneaky with Y/N this whole time—”

“Well, I thought we were pretty damn clever—”

“Look, if you two are just going to go back and forth, I’m going to sleep—”

“Fine. Let me join, then.” You want to complain at being interrupted again, but Kai’s words make you pause. And then his eyes drift over to you, his face turning towards yours on the pillow and his voice becoming more yielding. “If you’re okay with it.”

You feel a bit winded, never really expecting him to say yes. But now here it is, out in the open and waiting for you to take hold of it—or shun it away. You also know yourself well enough to understand the second choice isn’t even an option for you. Taemin waits in silence to see what your answer will be, though the corner of his mouth is already lifting in a smirk because he can take a good guess.

“Okay. Then let’s do it.”

With your acceptance, there’s a tense pause as everyone waits to see what the other will do first.

Taemin makes the first move by sliding his hand the rest of the way into your underwear, his fingers dipping down to feel you. You’re not as wet as he’d like yet, which he immediately seeks to remedy by rubbing your clit and bringing his plush lips to your exposed collarbone.

“Kiss her,” Taemin says in between laying kisses of his own across your chest. Kai stays still for a moment longer, and you wonder if he’s regretting this decision, but when you glance up at him his eyes are glued to where Taemin’s hand is moving beneath your pajamas. Finally, he tears his stare away from the scene playing out in front of him and meets your gaze, coming closer to press his mouth on yours.

More often than not, Taemin’s kisses are heated and frantic, as if he can never kiss you enough—which is not to knock his experience or skill, because he has more than enough to satisfy you—but Kai is soft and slow against your mouth, kissing you deeply and intensely like he might not get to do it again.

Taemin laughs quietly against your neck at how you grow wetter beneath his fingers from this one kiss.

Kai’s touch is a little more tentative because he hasn’t done this with you before, but his hands go to the hem of your shirt. He goes underneath the fabric, pushing it up your stomach along the way, to touch your breasts. Your nipples harden at his touch, and he rolls them between his deft fingers. It doesn’t take long for him to begin desiring more contact, and he shoves your shirt up above your chest, lowering his head to take a nipple into his mouth.

Taemin situates himself further down to let Kai have his way with your upper body and introduces one of his fingers into you, sliding the slender digit inside and crooking it up to find that soft spot. You twitch around him, your thighs tensing and flexing, and he keeps his lips pressed close to your hips, biting the skin there and then dragging his tongue across the places he’s just irritated. You’re already feeling overwhelmed at having both men pleasure you at the same time, and you’re not sure how you’re going to make it through the rest of the night.

Your pulse races against Kai’s mouth as his kisses travel to your neck, making you shiver. “Does that feel good?” Kai asks, his voice low, and you nod without a second thought. You belatedly realize he’s referring to Taemin's actions when you notice his eyes have drifted below the waist again. He seems entranced with the way Taemin fingers you, or maybe he just wants a turn for himself.

“It does,” you say, as if your nod wasn’t confirmation enough. Your words trail out of you in a breathless whisper. Kai soon shifts lower down your body just as Taemin eases another finger into you, which makes you moan softly. You think your heart might beat out of your chest when Kai settles himself beside Taemin, and you can guess what’s about to happen.

“Are you going to have her all to yourself?” Kai remarks, his tone joking.

“I was here first.” Taemin grins deviously, but he shuffles over to make more room for Kai between your legs.

As Taemin keeps moving his fingers inside you, brushing them against your g-spot and making you moan desperately, Kai lowers his head and drags his tongue over your clit. You gasp sharply at this brand-new sensation; the sight of it is even more erotic than you could’ve imagined. Kai wraps his mouth around your sensitive clit and Taemin observes closely as the other man sucks and licks into you. Though Taemin sometimes likes to pretend he isn’t as easily aroused as you know he can be, he can’t hide the way his breaths grow rushed and his face becomes more flushed.

The soft but intense sucking of Kai’s mouth and the smooth strokes of Taemin’s fingers have you careening off the edge faster than you anticipated, and your legs scrabble against the sheets as you toss and turn in the tide of a strong orgasm.

Kai comes back to your upper body when he’s finished, leaning in close to where your head rests on the pillow. Your chest heaves as you try to regain your breath. He smiles down at your supine figure, pressing another kiss to your lips. “You’re so sweet,” he murmurs against the seam of your mouth, and he slides his tongue in to let you taste yourself even more deeply.

Between kisses, Kai pulls your shirt the rest of the way off. You end up doing the same for him—with his help—and you run your hands over the newly exposed skin, feeling the soft but firm ridges of his abs underneath your palms. The length of his cock presses against his sleep pants, half-hard and still rising. Somewhere below you, Taemin removes your panties and pajama pants from around your ankles, and even though you feel spent, your body is already reacting to the idea of him pressing your legs open wider and pushing into you.

“Turn on your stomach,” Taemin instructs, though he’s already grabbing your hips and shifting you over before you can do it yourself. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to palm your ass as he does, his digits dipping down between your legs like he’s going to start fingering you again. Some nights, he can spend forever doing just that—pulling you apart with his hands and mouth and denying you his dick until he finally feels like giving it to you.

His plans for tonight are a little different, though.

Taemin taps your lower back and says, “I think you know what to do.” You can’t see his face, but he must be giving Kai a certain look because the other man smirks, shaking his head.

“Come closer,” you say to Kai, because just as Taemin predicted, you know exactly what he expects you to do. You run your fingers up the length of Kai’s strong thighs, feeling the hard muscle of them and bringing your hands up higher to caress the bulge straining against his pants. Kai’s eyes grow heavier as he watches you palm his dick, and he settles himself in front of you with his legs spread.

You could probably occupy yourself all night with pulling reactions out of him and teasing him, getting to know what he likes and making him drip sticky precum down your hand. You are too eager to see his dick and feel him in your mouth, however, so you drag the waistband of his pants and underwear lower to bring it out. It’s thicker than Taemin’s, pretty and tan with prominent veins, and you can only imagine how it’s going to feel once he actually gets inside of you. Kai watches you with burning eyes as you grip the base in your hand and get his dick wet with your saliva, sliding your tongue across the shaft. A heavy, shaky breath leaves him when your mouth makes the first contact.

Behind you, Taemin’s cock nudges your entrance and then pushes in, and you whimper from being stretched while Kai’s dick bumps against your lips. Taemin keeps his hands on your ass as he begins thrusting into you, taking his time with it and building your pleasure up with slow thrusts. You want Taemin to move faster and send you spiraling headfirst into pleasure again, though. You whine with your mouth still around Kai’s tip, which makes him give an answering moan.

“Stop playing around and swallow his dick, Y/N,” Taemin taunts you from above. He angles his hips a bit differently to find your g-spot, and you make a choked noise when he locates it, causing Kai’s dick to slip from your mouth.

“Shut up, Taem. It’s not like you’re making it easy.” Taemin gives a sudden rough thrust in answer to that, and even Kai grins at the pleasured expression on your face and the surprised yelp you let loose.

“Try harder.” Taemin insists, and he lands a swift slap on your ass. It’s not harsh, but it’s enough to make you cry out. “You want her throat around your dick, don’t you, Jongin?”

Kai raises his eyebrows at Taemin’s words, but the twitch of his cock in your hand and the bob of his Adam’s apple are unmistakable. “Can you take it?” Kai asks you, voice thick with desire.

“Give it to me.” You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out for Kai to slide in. You’ve deep-throated Taemin numerous times before, and you are impatient to let Kai try it now. His gaze darkens, and he grips his cock and leads it deeper into your mouth. He shudders visibly when the warm, wet heat of your mouth envelops him. He hesitates for a moment, like he doesn’t want to go too deep and hurt you, but you look up at him from beneath your lashes with your best pleading eyes and he is completely lost to your longing expression. His stomach tenses when he pushes further, feeling the tight space of your throat squeezing around his tip. More precum drips from him.

“Good girl,” Taemin whispers from above, his eyes glued to the back of your head. He leans forward for a better view so he can watch Kai’s dick disappear between your lips, and that movement ends with his hips pressed flush against your ass, his length as far in you as it will go. You moan helplessly around Kai as Taemin continues fucking you at this depth and angle, one of his hands gripping your hip tightly. You feel beyond full, unable to think about anything other than the two men inside of you.

“Don’t come yet.” Taemin pushes into you as steadily as ever, rushing towards his own climax as his breaths grow more broken-off.

Kai groans as your tongue slides sloppily against his shaft, your body being repeatedly pushed forward by Taemin’s thrusts. He doesn’t even have to do much work to fuck your mouth. He only keeps his hand at the back of your head, more because he just needs to touch you somewhere rather than trying to control the pace. The wet and filthy sounds of his dick hitting the back of your throat bring him ever closer to his end, but Taemin’s gaze gives him pause. “You’re telling me not to come yet?”

“You still have to fuck her,” Taemin says, smacking your ass again. He slows his pace momentarily to lift your hips slightly, sneaking his hand beneath you to circle his fingers around your clit, and your body tenses as you give a stifled cry. “You’ve got to feel her. This pussy is so fucking good, isn’t it, Y/N? Want him to fuck this needy little hole? You’re already getting tighter around me just thinking about it...how dirty.” There’s no way to respond with your mouth currently occupied; you only give a low, shuddering moan.

“F-fuck.” Kai abruptly pulls himself out of your mouth to stave off the orgasm threatening to overtake him at the sight of you looking so fucked-out. Like Taemin said, he definitely wants—needs—to be inside of you at least once before the night is over.

“J-Jong—” You want to beg for him to put his dick back in your mouth, gripping his thighs and trying to get closer, but those attempts are lost when your climax finally comes crashing over you. Taemin keeps his hand on your lower back to prevent you from squirming away from him as he continues thrusting into you throughout your orgasm, overstimulating your already wired senses. Weak with pleasure and shaking, you let Taemin use your body to get closer to his own end, which you’re more than happy to do.

Seconds later, Taemin is pulling out of you and stroking his dick, spilling his cum on your lower back and your ass. He lets go of his dick and slips it between your ass cheeks, thrusting between them and milking himself of the last few drops. He smirks at the messy creation he’s made all over your skin.

When Taemin lies on the bed next to you, Kai sheds his pants and takes his place. Kai gently turns you onto your back and grabs your weakened legs, pulling them around his waist, and you let him maneuver your body as he wants.

When he pushes into you, you almost want to sob at the way his dick spreads you open, sliding deep inside your oversensitive pussy. His eyebrows crease together at how you feel around him, so warm and wet.

Kai’s pace is not as quick as Taemin’s; his strokes are deep and hard as he buries himself inside and pulls nearly all the way out. Your lingering pleasure is stoked even higher by the intense way he’s fucking you, and your muscles feel like they might cramp up, but he keeps your legs spread open for better access.

“Is it good, Y/N? Do you love it?” Taemin asks from beside you, his voice light and airy as if he’s in awe of it all. His hands sneak over to your breasts, and his lips soon follow.

“Fuck, yes.” Kai brings one of your legs up to his shoulder to get a better angle. His gaze is burning as he looks at you and Taemin—Taemin sucking your breasts, your knitted eyebrows and half-open mouth, the sight of his shaft disappearing into you. “You feel s-so good. So fucking deep...” You grab Kai’s arms on either side of you, nails pricking his skin.

“Y/N…” Kai’s voice has grown rough, tinged with desperation. Sweat drips from his face and down his abs. His pace increases, and the tension tightens in your lower stomach again as his hips slap against yours.

Taemin grips your chin and turns your face towards his, sliding his tongue into your mouth in a wet kiss. At the same time, he moves his other hand lower to stroke his fingers across your clit, and this pushes you off the edge into a dizzying orgasm. It’s strong enough to turn your whole world blurry with an endless ecstasy.

When Kai gets close, he pulls out like Taemin did to jerk himself off and come across your stomach, painting your skin with his warm cum. His groans are deep and rich and lovely, and they make you clench with the last waning vestiges of your orgasm.

Kai lies beside you on the free side that Taemin isn’t occupying, keeping one hand on your thigh like he needs to have some part of you always touching him.

“We need to clean up,” you mumble, uncomfortable with the cum drying on your skin, though you’re also trying to battle the increasing sleepiness threatening to drape itself over your eyes like a veil.

“Maybe later.” Taemin throws an arm around your waist and cuddles his face into your neck. Kai grins and nudges his nose against your ear, tickling your skin. Their breaths fan over your skin, and you sigh and close your eyes, contented despite the mess.

“Fine. As long as you carry me to the shower later.”

801 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Sugar, Sugar 15

[FIFTEEN/END]

MASTERLIST

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, violence, mean sugary Steve

This is a dark! sugar daddy! Steve fic. Obvious AU so please keep that in mind. :) That being said, it will be an explicit fic (18+) with noncon. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

(This chapter: violence, threats, fear :O)

Series Summary: The reader is struggling in the big city but find opportunity before her. Will she take it?

This Chapter: The wedding day approaches but not everything goes to plan.

Author Notes: So this is another series wrapped up after a grueling two years, haha. Sorry y’all.

Please let me know what you think, like and reblog <3 love ya

🍭 🍭 🍭

The floor length mirror was trimmed with twisted gold. You stared at your reflection as your shaky hands pressed against the front of the ivory dress. The cut hid the small bump but you could not forget it. Ever since you confessed, it all happened so fast; the wedding was pushed up, the dress tailored and expedited, and invitations sent out in a rush.

It all felt surreal. The day had come but you just couldn’t accept it. How could you go through those doors and smile through it all?

You closed your eyes and let your breath out. They would knock when it was your time. Your father would be waiting to walk you down the aisle. The guests waited eagerly for the most talked about ceremony in the city. And you still felt like just a footnote in your own wedding.

You moved away from the mirror and sat unsteadily, gripping the arms of the cushioned chair, careful not to catch your veil under you. That night you told him, that was the final straw. But you didn’t forget what Sasha said. You took a picture of the broken door and wrote down the entire scene. You sent it to yourself in an email as proof.

That wasn’t the last time. You recorded Steve one day when he came in as you were texting your sister about the new date. You hadn’t answered his last message about your first appointment with the doctor. He was livid and you sat and listened to him rant as the red dots pulsed. You wrote down every instance, every time he made you appease him, every terrifying word.

Then there were the police reports. Nothing more than words in a filing cabinet but the night he choked you was just the beginning. He threatened to break your finger when you took your ring off because your hands were swelling. Then he broke your laptop when you didn’t pay him enough attention.

As the wedding loomed closer, he only seemed to get worse. He was clingy, always touching you, marveling over your stomach. He checked in almost every hour on the hour when he was working, and you weren’t stupid enough not to notice that the building was being watched.

It was like you were living two lives and yet you were entirely trapped with him. What good could the emails do? Or the reports when the police wouldn’t act on them? You were going to marry this man and that would be the end of it; of you, of your life.

Knuckles tapped on the door and you stood. You crossed the room and inched it open the door. You flinched as you were met by an unexpected and uninvited guest.

“Sasha?” you gasped.

“You’re marrying him then?” he held the handle but you didn’t try to close the door, “the account gone, I heard nothing from you.”

“I… I’m scared,” you admitted, “when he found out, I thought he was going to--” you shook your head. He wouldn’t actually kill you.

“You know it’s not too late,” Sasha urged.

“You can’t be here, it he finds out, he’ll--”

“I’ll defend myself,” Sasha snarled uncharacteristically, “I’ll give him what he deserves.’

“No, I don’t want you to get hurt. You need to go,” you begged as you glanced past him furtively.

“I will. Come with me,” he said, “just go. Everyone’s distracted, they won’t know--”

“I can’t just leave. You don’t understand--”

“No, you don’t understand,” he argued, “if you marry him, it all gets so much more complicated. I told you that day at the café. It will be harder to fight after the vows, but right now, you can still get out.”

“And go where?”

He swallowed and looked down the hall. You could hear the distant murmur of the crowd.

“Did you do any of it? Keep a journal? Something?” he asked.

“I tried. I went to the police but nothing,” you sniffed and gripped the door tight.

“Nothing yet but that’s a start,” he chewed the inside of his lip.

“Why are you here? Why is this so important to you?”

“Because I can do something,” he hissed, “because I can’t live with it if I don’t. So come on. Come with me, I got a bigger place. It’ll have to do for now and then we’ll work on getting you standing, getting the baby somewhere to grow--”

“Am I trading him for you?”

“I’m your friend,” he said evenly, “that will never change. All I want is you safe. If it makes you feel better, I’ll sleep in the hall. You can lock me out and I’ll sleep against the door. But I came down here knowing I wouldn’t leave without you.”

“It’s a sweet fantasy but--”

“Come on,” he grabbed your hand and pushed the door open, “please, don’t go with him. It doesn’t end well. You don’t get out. It doesn’t get better.”

“I have nothing,” you quavered.

“You have me,” he said, “please don’t make me walk out of here alone.”

“I….” you uttered as your heart squeezed. “He’ll come after you.”

“Good, I want him to,” he clung to you, “please?”

You inhaled and heard the voices. Your father and your sister. You had no time to think but you knew it was your only chance.

“Let’s go,” you lifted your skirt and pulled the door shut behind you as you stepped out, “now.”

He held onto your hand as you rushed away from the voices and skirted around the corner. Sasha urged you on down the back stairs and through the maze like halls of the extravagant church. You nearly tumbled down the stairs and he caught you as you came along the narrow passage beside the main room, the guests and groom just on the other side of the wall.

You came out into the sunlight and Sasha lifted the train of your skirts as he directed you over the grass. our heels sank into the dirt as you rushed over and the organ began to play Here Comes the Bride. As he helped stuff the swathes of fabric in behind you in his modest car, the music stopped suddenly.

He closed the door as you were squished in the back seat amid your layered skirts and he got in the front. The engine turned and he nearly side swept another car as he pulled out without looking. You peeked back behind you but saw no one coming down the large steps of the church.

He turned the corner and sidled in behind a yellow cab. He looked at you in the mirror and nodded. You bit your lips nervously as reality sank in. Your chest hammered and your entire body buzzed with adrenaline. You knew it was only the beginning.

🍭

The day passed in a daze. You sat in your wedding dress waiting for all hell to break loose. Sasha sat with a beer, silently, and tapped his foot endlessly. When the silence was too much, he turned on the television but neither of you paid any attention to the old sitcom.

When the trance of disbelief dissipated, he showed you around his spacious loft. He was being paid well by Stark but you worried how long he would stay on the payroll after what he’d done. Steve wasn’t stupid and there were more photographers at the church then you’d seen collectively over the last year and a half.

“This is the second bedroom,” he showed you into a room with gleaming windows. There was a bed, a dresser, curtains, a cozy rug, all carefully selected, “I thought you’d be here sooner.”

Your eyes lingered on the box leaned against the far wall. A crib.

“Didn’t know how long…” his voice trailed off as he followed your eye line, “I’m not trying to be him. You can go anytime but I… you have a place here.”

Your eyes welled and you blotted them with your knuckles, the rough lace of your gloves scratching your cheeks, “you did all this for me?”

“I told you, I’d do anything,” he said.

“But… Sasha, I don’t--”

“I don’t expect anything from you. High school was a long time ago but you made it bearable for the biggest dweeb in the class.” He sighed and paced a circle around the room, “you know, I had the biggest crush on you. That doesn’t mean anything now, it doesn’t mean I want you to fall into my arms, but it means I want to help you. It’s the right thing to do, somehow I made a career of doing the right thing so what’s one more?”

You felt your chest sink and you covered your cheeks with your hands, “Sasha?”

“Please,” he cringed, “I was a teen boy, I think I had a thing for Oprah once. Really, it’s just… we’re friends. We’ll always be friends.”

“I can’t…” you sniffled and dropped your hands, “I don’t deserve any of this.”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Sasha intoned, “and you don’t deserve to live like that. I know this isn’t much but I know you. You’ll find your way, you just got a little lost.”

“I…” you shook your head speechless.

“We’ll figure everything else out tomorrow. You can borrow some of my clothes for tonight and then we can see about retrieving your things from Steve,” he neared the door and stopped beside you, “or we can say fuck it and you can start all over.”

You turned and slung your arms around him. You buried your face against his shoulder as tears spilled out onto his jacket.

“How did you know?” you sobbed.

“That day at the shower,” he rubbed your back gently, “you know, lawyers learn how to read people and you never were very good at subtlety.”

“No,” you chuckled through your tears, “No, it’s why I was great as a bard.”

“Mmm,” he grumbled, “if that’s how you remember it.”

🍭

It felt like Sasha was gone forever but when you checked the clock, it had only been twenty minutes.

You sat on the couch with your feet under you as you watched the news and rocked nervously. All anyone was talking about was Steve Rogers’ runaway bride. Your face was everywhere and the statement issued by Steve made it all the worse.

He painted you as a gold-digger, as an adulterer, as a swindler. He was the heartbroken fiancé and you were the wrongdoer. You knew it would go this way but expectation never softened reality.

You flinched as the lock turned and Sasha entered with a bag in hand. He came to the couch and set it down beside you.

“I don’t know about my taste in women's clothes but those should do,” he said as he checked his watch, “we should go soon.”

“Yeah,” you stood and opened the bag to reveal the lavender blouse and dark jeans, “you really didn’t have to--”

“You kidding, he’s gonna be surrounded by cameras. You can’t win his game if you don’t play it. I’ve dealt with his type before, they’re the ones who need lawyers on standby,” he sneered, “did you eat?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you swiped up the bag and headed for the hallway, “it was good.”

“No problem,” he shrugged as he grabbed the remote and shut off the tv, “and ignore all that nonsense.”

You got dressed and emerged as your anxiety grew to impatience. You left the apartment in brittle silence and the car ride fed the uneasy bubbling of your stomach. .

As you came up to Steve’s building, you sat for a moment before you got out. Sasha followed and shoulder away the cameras as you neared the front door

The elevator moved slowly and fidgeted uncontrollably as it dinged on Steve’s floor. You swallowed and braced yourself to face Steve. Sasha kept a few feet back as you walked down the hall and stopped at the door. You knocked as you found it locked.

It was a while before it opened but when it did, you were startled as Steve grabbed the front of your blouse and wrenched you inside. He spun you but quickly released you as he was knocked off balance and sent sprawling over the floor. Sasha stood above him with his hands in fists.

“Hey,” he pointed at Steve then looked at you, “you okay?”

You nodded as Steve glared between the two of you and cautiously got to his feet, “so you brought your little boyfriend?”

“She’s here to get her stuff. We thought we’d avoid a police escort, as her lawyer I thought it prudent, but we can always make that phone call,” Sasha said sternly, “she is entitled to her possessions.”

“Her stuff? I paid for every single thing she has to her name. Hers? Mine.” Steve spat and reared on you again, only to be caught by Sasha as he inserted himself between you.

“You will not touch her again. Those things you bought for her were gifts. You have no legal rights to them once they are given. She will take her clothes, her phone, and any other necessities.”

“Pfft, she’s not taking anything. She’s not going anywhere,” Steve growled, “she not yours--”

“I am certain the photogs would appreciate a show,” Sasha pulled out his phone, “police? That can only be a domestic dispute.”

Steve squinted and his nose flared as he looked at you over Sasha’s shoulder, “fucking slut.” He crossed his arms and stepped aside, “get your shit, get out…” he hissed, “but I have my rights too. You will not keep me from my baby.”

“That will be settled in court,” Sasha replied coolly, “go on, get your things.”

He waved you past him as he kept you shield from Steve. He was of a height with Steve but not as broad. Even so, you felt safe behind him. You rushed down to the bedroom and quickly gathered up your toiletries and those clothes you didn’t absolutely hate. Your phone screen was shattered but you took it anyway.

As you emerged again, a bag slung on your shoulder, you slid the ring from your finger.

“You can keep the rest,” you said as you placed the band on the small round table just inside the front room, “goodbye Steve.”

“Goodbye? Goodbye?” he spat, “this isn’t the end and you fucking know it.”

“Calm down,” Sasha warned.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Steve shoved him, “I should fucking smash your head in--”

“I’d like you to try,” Sasha stood his ground, “really. You think the court would let a violent man be around an infant?”

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. He backed down and shouldered by Sasha. “Get the fuck out.”

You left quickly. You had no desire to hang around. As you stepped onto the elevator, Sasha softly touched your elbow and you winced. The bag fell to your elbow and he quickly scooped it up and heaved it over his own shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” you said, “he was so angry. I--”

“I was stupid, we should’ve brought the police. Fuck the cameras,” he said, “from this point on, no contact with him whatsoever. Only through me and the court. No talking to reporters, no nothing.”

“Yeah, that won’t be hard,” you uttered as he led you out of the elevator.

As you came outside, cameras flashed and voices called out. You collided with Sasha as he was blocked by a photographer shouting questions, “is it true you’re pregnant? Is it Steve’s?”

“My client will not be answering questions,” Sasha kept on and made a path for you, “go, she’s not answering any of your questions.”

He elbowed past more cameras and opened the car door for you. You fell inside and quickly huddled down in your seat. As he sat behind the wheel, he mumbled and pulled out into traffic. He gripped the wheel tightly and pushed himself back into the vinyl.

“That asshole,” he said, “he’s gonna want the paternity test. This isn’t gonna be pretty.”

“I can’t… he fucking told them. I mean, I’m not surprised but… god,” you grimaced.

“We’ll get the test done before he makes a formal request,” Sasha said, “it shows transparency and when we hand over those results, we’ll include those police reports too.”

“Police reports?” you blinked.

“Sorry, I… It’s a suggestion,” he said tersely, “but he’s going to make this a trial by media.”

“No, no, I want to,” you said firmly, “I want everyone to know the real Steve Rogers.”

🍭

‘I was just like many struggling in the city. I worked a low-paying job in data entry and lived in an apartment which was little more than a box. The dreams of the big city were passing me by as there was little opportunity to be found.

Then I met Steve Rogers. Like a dream or a Lifetime movie. I was in debt, I was desperate, and he offered me a safety net. I can own my part in the relationship; I was interested and I accepted his generosity. I was all too happy with the arrangement.

That was until I found out that it was all based on a lie. I didn’t know that he had access to my accounts even before I knew him, that he had used his connections to force me into that dire situation. And I could not know the real man behind the billionaire façade.

It was little things at first. Any woman loves to feel wanted but his possessiveness soon turned to control. He kept me isolated from my own family and did not permit me to do anything without his permission. His affection turned to obsession and when it was not reciprocated he forced it from me.

He took me on vacation and did not allow me to wear clothes. He chose what I wore, how I looked, and what I did. He coerced me into acts I was reluctant about, and when he was too rough, he did not listen to my pleas for him to stop.

When I tried to leave him, he followed me and dragged me back. He had me watched by PIs and surveilled all my communications. He used his financial power to control me and when that did not work, he used his physical power.

Steve Rogers abused me. He yelled in my face, he threatened my family, and he choked me.

Steve Rogers raped me. He expected me to bend to his will whenever he desired and when I refused, he held me down and did what he wanted.

Steve Rogers took my whole life and when I chose to leave, he set his eyes on the life inside of me.

The only thing I want from him is freedom. I want to live safely with my child and I want that child to never experience the abuse of their father. I never want anyone to know that horror again which is why I have written this and released the police records. I am not asking for anything but peace for me and my unborn child.’

The statement was carefully edited by Sasha. You reread the font across the glossy pages of Vanity Fair, the article spliced with excerpts not only from the police reports, but your own emailed accounts of your relationship, and the whole thing began with an image of that broken bathroom door.

It was two months since you ran away from the altar but life was not a romcom. It was a disaster. Even with the article, you knew not all would believe you. You knew it would open you to doubt and vitriol. And you knew Steve would have a response.

You closed the magazine and groaned as you rubbed your hips. Freedom didn’t feel so… freeing. There was a long way to go; court dates, doctor’s appointment, and depositions. But it was a start.

You rested your hand on your stomach and pushed on the arm of the couch as you stood stiffly. When you were halfway up, you felt a hand on your elbow and Sasha helped you stand straight. You smiled guiltily. You’d grown a lot in the last few weeks and still had nearly four months to go.

“The reviews are good,” he said, “I know that is kinda grim but… people seem to believe you.”

“Seem to?” you echoed as you went to the kitchen and pulled out the container of sliced strawberries, “or they don’t?”

“Well,” he leaned on the counter as he watched you add too much cream to the berries and smiled, “Stark Industries has cut ties with Shield, Inc. and Tony has made a sizeable donation to several shelters across the city,” he cupped his chin coyly as he leaned on his elbow, “and will be covering legal costs for the support hearings seeing as I can’t legally represent you anymore.”

“Oh,” your mouth fell open before you could spray some cream onto your tongue, “when were you going to tell me this?”

“I’m telling you now,” he crossed his arms as he shifted them further over the island, “I thought I’d give the good news first.”

“And the bad?” you put down the can of cream as you neared the marble across from him.

“I have several requests for interviews and I think you should do at least one,” he said, “I know you hate reporters and all that but… with a little Rogers baby on board, it’s just another part of the process.”

“Oh, and what should I tell them,” you edged around the counter towards him, “that I moved? That I found someone better?” He turned to you, his lips curved as he leaned in and you turned your face up to peck his lips, “or maybe I should tell them I’m single? Keep the intrigue?”

“As long as you tell them I’m handsome, I don’t mind,” he purred as he placed his hand on your side.

“Oh, how could I leave that out?” you cooed and kissed him again, “patient, loving, kind… but what a geek?”

“A geek?” he smirked and framed your chin with his hands, “says the dungeon master.”

You giggled and ran your hands up his chest, “someone’s gotta raise this little bard well.”

“Oh, no, no, she’s not gonna be a bard. Maybe a cleric?”

“No way! That’s lame,” you chirped, “how about… a sorcerer? Ours is a bit lacking.”

“Excuse you,” he quipped, “what was your AC again? Maybe next session I’ll run out of healing spells.”

“See?” you taunted, “geek.”

You drew him to you until he was pressed to your belly and he swept you up in a kiss. You rocked with him as he turned you against the counter and slowly parted.

You squeezed his wrist as you went back around to your strawberries and cream. You took a spoon and scooped up a mouthful as you slid your phone towards you. Sasha stayed as he was, watching you scroll through the emails and piled up texts.

You stopped as one blared in all caps. There was no name, only ‘Private’. You opened the conversation and found a dozen bubbles; ‘THIS ISN’T OVER’, ‘HE CAN’T KEEP YOUR FROM ME’, ‘CUTE, YOU THINK PEOPLE BELIEVE YOUR SHIT.’ Another message blipped up, an image and you dropped your spoon as it opened.

You saw the picture of your sister and her son. You shook as you put your hand down on the counter and choked on the cream.

“What?” Sasha reached over and turned your phone to him, “Shit,” he sighed and blocked the number, “he’s just stacking the evidence against himself.”

“I--” you blinked as tears boiled behind your eyes.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” he screencapped the conversation, “this just makes the case even easier.”

“No, I will always be afraid of him,” you said as you touched your stomach, “it’s not just about me anymore.”

“And it’s not just you anymore,” he took your hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb, “we’ve been through worse. If we can get through a cave full of orcs, we can defeat Steve Rogers.”

END (or is it?)

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #sugar daddy au #au #sugar daddy!steve Rogers #sugar sugar #marvel #mcu #captain america

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omg-imatotalmess · 3 years

Text

Avoidance

Hey guys! So, this is for @thisismysecrethappyplace who tagged me in their writing challenge. I’m sorry this took so long to get out. I hope this helps you through your birthday blues. Hope y’all enjoy!

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Requested: Kinda

Warnings: Slight angst (it ends nice and fluffy I promise)

15. I’m hopeless and awkward and desperate for love!

---

Love was a funny thing. It had the power to make people do the stupidest things without even realizing it. It had the power to make people forget themselves. Love could completely turn someone inside out and set them on their head, and they'd be happy about it. You couldn't fathom it. How anyone could be happy about tearing their heart out and handing it to someone for safekeeping was a mystery to you. In fact, you thought it was total bullshit. Then you met George.

Well, that's not exactly it. It wasn't love at first sight by any means, but sometime in the years you'd known him, it crept up on you. You hadn't even realized it at first. It had come on so slowly over the years that it felt natural. Then, all of a sudden, sitting in a sunny corner of the library, it hit you like a ton of bricks. You were in love with George Weasley. The boy who taught you to play quidditch, who laughed at all your bad jokes, who had been your best friend forever. Of course, you loved him. It was inevitable. And that's why you'd taken to avoiding him.

You couldn't stand to be the aching, puppy-eyed girl grinning ear to ear as you offered him your heart. Never in your life did you want to feel that stupid. You also didn't like the very real possibility that it would ruin things between you. All you wanted to do was wait it out. Let yourself slowly fall out of love with him, and then things could go back to normal. However, George seemed to have other plans. After a good week of avoiding him, he finally caught up to you while you sat in the astronomy tower.

"There you are. Been looking for you for ages, you know," he said. You could feel him grinning at your back.

"Uh, yup, here I am. You found me," you said, cringing at your stilted words.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you didn't want to see me. Silly me, I didn't know we were playing hide and seek," he laughed, dumping his bag on the floor and sitting down beside you. In typical George fashion, he left a tiny gap between your shoulders but knocked your knees together as he sat. It was friendly. You wished it wasn't. Then you hated yourself for wishing that.

"Yeah, silly you," you said.

"C'mon, don't tell me you're really avoiding me." His tone was still teasing, but you could hear the tightness beginning to form.

"Well..." you began.

"What? Why? Is it because Fred and I let you take the fall for that prank on Snape? Because I feel terrible about that, and I really am sorry," he said.

"I am still kinda mad about that," you muttered to yourself.

"Does that mean you're avoiding Fred, too?" he asked, looking very much like he hoped the answer was yes. Just for the safety of knowing it wasn't just him.

Things would have been so much easier if he didn't turn those big brown eyes on you. When he looked like that, you could see how devastatingly handsome he was even with that wounded look on his face. You hated it. The last thing you'd ever wanted to do was hurt him. How the hell were you supposed to explain to your best friend that you fell in love with him and wished you hadn't? You had the feeling that it would come out wrong if you tried anyway. You looked away.

"You're not." It was a statement.

"Well, no, not exactly," you mumbled.

"What's the matter? Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

"No!" you said, just a little too loud. "No, of course not."

"You don't exactly go around ignoring your best friend without a good reason. Especially not you. Unless you forgot how to speak English or something. Even then, I bet you'd still come mess with me just because you knew I wouldn't understand you. You'd get a real kick out of that," he babbled.

"George, take a breath," you reminded him.

"What did I do?" he said, cutting off his rambling. You shifted uncomfortably, blushing under his gaze. If only he was just a little less endearing. If only he was ugly. If only you weren't dumb enough to fall in love with him.

"You didn't do anything. I'm just being stupid," you said.

"That doesn't exactly tell me much, you know," he replied, reaching out to take your hand. It was something he'd done a million times before. Your skin shouldn't have prickled under his touch.

"No, I guess not. It's really not a big deal, though." The tingling spread up your arm.

"Tell me about it anyway," he said, giving your hand the most unbearably sweet squeeze. It was like he had a direct line to your heart. That one little squeeze sent it into overdrive. You shivered, pulling your hand away and standing up.

"I can't. Not right now, okay?" you said quickly. Snagging your bag from its place by the window, you turned to run like the coward you were.

"(Y/N)." Your name sounded heavy and tragic on his tongue. The whole situation felt like something out of a ridiculous romance novel, which made you hate it even more.

"I'll explain it all to you when I get it straight in my head, okay? I promise," you said. While you never really planned to tell him about being in love with him, you would eventually be able to go back to normal.

Taking one long step forward, he grabbed the sleeve of your shirt. His grip was so gentle that you could have pulled away if you'd really wanted to, but you didn't. Both of you stood there. Neither of you moved or spoke for a moment. You just kept your back to him, letting him curl his fingers into your sleeve. Eventually, he brought himself closer, leaning his forehead onto your shoulder.

"Please don't ignore me anymore. It's only been a week, and I miss you," he whispered. You weren't sure you'd ever heard him so quiet.

"George-"

"Please? I'd really rather you talk this through even if I don't have a clue what you're on about," he said.

Jesus, having him so close you could damn near hear his voice inside your head was painful. So was the thought of walking away. George was your best friend. He deserved an explanation. It was cruel of you to do this to him when he didn't do anything wrong. You just weren't sure how to start.

"I'm hopeless and awkward and desperate for love!" you blurted. Well, that was one way to do it.

"You're in love?" he asked, somehow sounding more upset.

"That seems to be what came out of my mouth," you said.

"You're in love," he said again. This time it was more to himself.

"Yeah," you sighed, turning to him. You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, feeling your cheeks flushing with heat. This wasn't a conversation you really wanted to have. He'd reject you in that sweet yet joking way only he could pull off, and you'd have to pretend to be okay with it, and things would be so much worse. If the castle was capable of swallowing you whole, you wished it would.

"With who?"

"Excuse me?"

"Who is it?"

"Who... am I in love with?" you asked. Oh no. Oh god. George, that sweet, stupid boy. He didn't get it.

"Do I know them?" he asked. A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"I should hope so. You know, come to think of it, he actually looks a lot like you," you laughed, suddenly dizzy with mortification. The whole situation was laughable. Completely bizarre. What could you do besides laugh?

"Oh," he croaked. "Fred then."

"Fred?" you asked, blinking dazedly.

"It's alright. You could have just told me. I would have even put in a good word for you. We're close, you know, I have an in with him. Wouldn't have minded setting you up. Can't imagine why you didn't just ask," he said with a half-hearted laugh. He began to back away from you. You watched as he ran a hand through his hair and bit his lip. For a split second, you thought he was going to cry.

"I'm not talking about Fred," you said.

"'M not sure who else you'd be talking about," he said.

"You dense--" you muttered. Shaking your head, you figured you'd better give this another shot.

"You, George, I'm in love with you," you admitted. It was his turn to blink at you. If the situation hadn't been so painfully awkward, you might have laughed at him. Half bent over with his bag hanging from one hand, lanky limbs paused mid-movement and sticking out at odd angles.

"Me? You really mean that? Me, as in George Weasley?" he asked.

"You know a lot of other George Weasleys?"

"Me! You're in love with me!" he hooted. A grin cracked across his face as he dropped his bag and swept you up in his arms.

"I'll assume it's reciprocated then," you said as he crushed you against his chest. He laughed. It sounded a lot like years worth of built-up worry finally being released—a wonderfully contagious sound. A smile pulled at your mouth, and you buried your face in his chest.

In lieu of an actual answer, he pulled you up, so your feet dangled off the floor and kissed you. You'd thought about George kissing you a thousand times, but you never imagined it would be like this. He kissed you like it was the only thing he'd ever wanted to do. Despite the enthusiasm that you could feel emanating from every pore, he was gentle. His mouth was warm, stretched around a familiar grin, and tasted faintly of honey. You wondered briefly why you ever thought about denying yourself this before George overtook all your senses. Reluctantly, the two of you parted to breathe.

"Guess I should have said something sooner," you panted.

"Definitely," he said, sounding a little breathless himself.

"So, I guess it really would be safe to assume you like me too," you teased.

"I've been in love with you since fourth year. Glad to know you finally caught up," he said. His face was flushed a soft pink, making his freckles stand out more. You loved them. You loved him.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting," you said.

"This was definitely worth the wait." Smiling, you leaned in and captured his lips again. Now that you knew you were allowed, you weren't sure you'd ever stop. Maybe love wasn't so funny after all.

@hufflepuff5972

#i didn't proofread this #sorry #george weasley x reader #george weasley x reader fluff #george weasley x reader imagine #george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley oneshot #george x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter #hp #fluff

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polonium-snap · 3 years

Text

The Beauty & the Deku chp. 2

Summary: Izuku and Katsuki somehow get trapped in a book of fairy tales, to get out of it they decide to play their part in the stories. How far are they willing to go to fulfill the romantic plotlines? Will Katsuki be able to play the role of a fairy tale princess?

ao3

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When Katsuki comes to, he is washing some stairs.”Wha-? This again? You’ve got to be forking kidding me.” He stood up, inspecting his clothes, some raggedy top, and pants, which at least is not a dress, and went to a nearby well, staring at his reflection on the water, scowling.

“Kacchan?” He heard Deku’s voice from behind, and the blonde turned to him.

“Deku!” Katsuki said. “As you can see, we are still trapped in this nightmare.” He frowns. “What do we do now?”

“Let’s continue trying to go along with the story, maybe if we do it enough times, we’ll get out of here.” Izuku suggested.

Katsuki growled. “Shut up! What do you know? This is probably your fault since you didn’t have to be at the house in the end.”

Deku frowned. “Oh yeah, Cinderella totally broke through a door like you did.”

The blonde scowled back, blustering and turning to look away from Izuku. “Whatever.”

Which was Kacchan-speak for ‘I’m sorry, you’re right', good thing Deku was an expert at reading his childhood friend. “We should continue trying to go along with the story, this time as much as we can with the original.”

“No way, nerd. I already gave that a try and we are still trapped in this hellhole.” Katsuki argued. “It makes more sense to try and make the story different, if it doesn’t let us move on we can find the reason more easily.”

“What if that just makes us be stuck here forever, Kacchan?” Izuku argued back. “Let’s do it like the story says one more time, then if we are still here we’ll try your thing.”

The blonde frowned but sighed. “Fine.”

Izuku let out the breath he was holding and stared into red eyes. “Thank you.”

Silence hung heavy for a second between them for several seconds. “I’m sorry…” Bakugou mutters, surprising Deku. “You know, for kissing you at the end…”

Izuku blushed furiously. “Oh! Uhm, i-i-it’s ok Kacchan, that actually made us move on, so…”

The implication of the previous statement weighs on them, and the silence only makes heat rise faster and more intensely into Deku’s face. If the kiss was what made them move on, did that mean they would have to again until they were out of there?

The most obvious answer was there, if they were in Snow White, like Izuku suspected, that meant they had to kiss to be able to continue with the story.

“Wh-What story are we in anyway?” Katsuki asked if only to fill the silence.

“O-oh, I think we are in Snow White.” Izuku reasoned.

“How are we meeting so early then, isn’t the prince supposed to kiss snow white at the end?” The blonde tried to remember.

“No, I think they met right at the start of the Disney movie.” Izuku explained.

“Crap I can’t remember.” The taller teen rubbed his hand on his face. “How am I going to go along with the story if I can't remember how it goes?”

The green-haired boy bit his lip, he couldn’t blame Kacchan, apart from this being a stressful situation, it has been a long time since either of them either saw the movies or read any books with fairy tales on them. “I think I know how it goes, just make sure to go near the forest and run away from the huntsman and look for a small house, it belongs to some dwarfs.” He explains. “Make sure they let you stay, cook and clean for them or something, the evil queen will look for you, to kill you, she will give you an apple, bite it, I’ll take care of the rest and then we’ll ride off to the sunset.”

“My prince.” Katsuki said sarcastically, and Izuku glared, but his cheeks felt hot. “I got it, I got it, I’m just tired of cleaning stuff, like I knew old men hate women in these stories and think their only use is to cook and clean, I get it, old news, but it’s annoying as heck, you know?”

“I get it Kacchan, I’m sorry, but I really think that we can get out if we follow the script as much as we can.”

“Yeah, except we can barely remember how it goes, you lame nerd, even just talking like this can change the story.” The fiery teen started to raise his tone. “We’re already doomed.”

Izuku cringed. “You’re right, but there must be plot points that make us move on, you know like in Cinderella, the background repeated until we did what it wanted, to move on we need to keep doing just that.” He tried to placate the other man. “This is the best plan we have right now, just go with it until we can think of something better.”

Katsuki stands staring at the other teen for a few seconds, glaring, but pondering what was said all the same. “Fine, but we better get out of this, or I’m going to explode.” He turned away and started walking toward the palace. “See you later, nerd, don’t you dare die.” He closed the doors, leaving Izuku staring.

The wardrobes the stories were putting the blonde in were killing him, he looked so handsome, even in dresses. Now the blonde wasn’t exactly wearing a dress, but elements of it were clearly borrowed, Kacchan was in rags but still looked amazing.

Izuku shook his head, this was not the time to be fawning over Kacchan, he turned around and left the grounds of the palace, unsure of what to do with himself. Jesus, fairy tale princes really were useless and had one shitty line, like Kacchan had said, though maybe like this, he could look for clues.

He looked down and sighed, even his clothes were boring.

۵⚜-The Beauty and the Deku-⚜۵

Katsuki changes his clothes because he is not staying in some ugly rags, besides he is 70% sure Snow White wasn’t dressed so badly, she needs to be marketable, little kids wouldn't buy merch of her if she looked ugly right?

He went near the forest, as Deku had said, and sat on a rock, at least the scenery was always interesting in these stories, as Katsuki had never gone out of Japan, he could almost pretend he was visiting Europe or some shit.

“I’m sorry, princess.” Said a voice, which startled the fuck out of the blonde.

“Jesus fu-!” Katsuki turned around to find Rikido Sato, from his class. “Sato?! You are the huntsman?”

The other man’s eyes widened. “You know my name?!” His eyes watered. “The queen has never called me by my name.”

Katsuki hadn’t either until just then, but he wasn’t about to say that to a man with a weapon while he remained quirkless. “Yes, of course I know your name!” He lied, he was lucky with Sato’s last name, he was between Sato and Sota. “I’m going to be the next ruler of this kingdom, and you my loyal subject.” He was talking out of his ass. “How could I not know your name?”

Sato dropped the knife. “I can’t do it!” He cried. “The queen is trying to kill you, your best option is to run as far as you can and hope she never finds you!”

Katsuki stood up from the ground and scrubbed the dirt off his clothes. “Right, thank you, I guess, for not killing me or whatever.” He jogged into the forest, enjoying it more than he normally would, maybe because it had been a while since he had been able to make one of his mornings runs.

At some point, his foot got tangled on some tree roots and he came crashing to the ground. “Argh!” He exclaimed. “Dumb tree, dumb story, dumb Deku!” He raged, and sat on the ground, finding the cabin could wait. As he lay on the ground feeling sorry for himself he felt small tweets from above, and slowly, animals from the forest came out and stared at him.

The blonde groaned. “One of you better not be Dunce face or Hair for brains.” He couldn’t take any more woodland animals as his friends, although thankfully it seemed none of them was anyone he knew. “What are you doing here then, If not to torture me?”

All the animals started to walk toward somewhere, and Katsuki, having nothing better to do went with them, only to find the small house Deku talked about. He opened the door, finding the insides absolutely filthy. And as much as Katsuki had complained he disliked cleaning, he disliked even more letting it stay filthy.

‘Fucking fine’ He thought because only in his mind he could use his favorite words. “You win, stupid Deku, I’ll clean this pigsty.” Katsuki picked up a broom and started sweeping the comical amounts of dust and dirt, the animals around him started to do the same, and for the first time, he didn’t mind the small woodland animals that seemed to follow him lately.

When he finally finished he realized how tired he was, it had been a few days since he last slept, so maybe now he could take a nap. Bakugou climbed the stairs, peering at the small beds with the dwarf's names, he pushed some of them together so he could fit in and dropped like a log on them, paying no mind to the few small animals that cuddled him, he was too tired for that shit.

He closed his eyes and lost consciousness.

۵⚜-The Beauty and the Deku-⚜۵

“What is that? Is it a ghost?” Said a fearful but familiar voice.

“Ha! There’s no such thing as a ghost.” An angrier voice said.

“Who cares, ghosts can’t touch you, let’s just sleep and be done with it.” Said another voice that sounded just like Aizawa.

With his sleep finally disrupted Katsuki decided to sit up and fuck up anyone who dared wake him. When he rose from the bed, multiple gasps were heard. “What is it now?” He said, the blanket still over his head, which he removed slowly.

When he finally could see, he found seven eerily familiar dwarfs looking at him and gasping once again.

“Prince!” One of them exclaimed. “What are you doing here, young prince?”

Holy shit, this dwarf was All Might. Katsuki gaped at the blonde dwarf, his face a picture of the man’s old glory.

The teen looked at the others, Aizawa, Present Mic, Koda, Kirishima, Kaminari...and Endeavour?!

“Let me guess, you,” Bakugou pointed at Aizawa. “Are sleepy, you,” Present Mic, who let out a very loud sneeze. “Are Sneezy, you,” Koda blushed. “Bashful.” Then Kirishima. “You are Happy, I guess.” Kaminari. “Dunce face, you are obviously Dopy.” Bakugou laughed. “This must be Todoroki’s old man, Endeavour.” The red-haired dwarf fumed. “That leaves you All Might, I guess you are Doc.”

All Might smiled. “Yes, young prince.” He eyed Katsuki as if searching for answers. “What brings you here?”

“Yeah, that, the queen is trying to kill me or something.” The younger man dismissed carelessly.

“The queen is trying to kill you?!” Several of the small men exclaimed.

“Yes, so let me hide here, I’ll cook and clean, or something.” Katsuki forced himself to say.

“Like we would let a stranger stay here in our h-” Endeavour started to say.

“Of course you can stay, my boy!” All Might said. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah!” Kirishima, Kaminari, and Present Mic said, Koda blushed, and Aizawa grunted his approval from where he slept.

Endeavour growled.

The next day, after making the seven nuisances breakfast and them lining up at the door to go to the mine, Kirishima took of his stupid hat and watched Katsuki expectantly.

“What do you want.” The blonde said, but he had started to piece what hair for brains was silently asking, the redhead wanted a kiss on his forehead, Bakugou fumed, missing the cracking sound of his quirk. The thing was Snow White obviously did so in the movie, and if he wanted to be truthful with what he promised Deku, he had to kiss the foreheads of these dumbasses and thank god they wouldn’t remember, or at least he hoped so.

He reluctantly kissed Kirishima’s forehead, cringing when the dwarf continued in his way. It didn’t take long for the rest of the short men to follow suit.

Kaminari laughed and thanked him with a teasing smile. Katsuki struggled not to punch with his bare hands. Koda, bless him, just blushed and continued on his way, Aizawa grunted, Present Mic whooped in happiness, and All Might thanked him.

Lastly, there was Endeavour, who Katsuki categorically and morally opposed kissing, as much as he hated the half-and-half bastard his old man was trash and he wasn’t about to ignore that. But he had made a promise to stupid Deku who was probably living it large somewhere as a prince.

Katsuki swallowed his pride if only because he was a man of his word.

He slowly bent to press his lips on Endeavour's dwarfed forehead, closing his eyes to avoid extra trauma, and gave him a lightning-quick kiss.

“It’s not like I wanted you to, brat!” What the fuck? Was Endeavour a tsundere?

Bakugou would never be able to look at the number one hero ever again.

While Katsuki baked a pie in the old-fashioned oven he heard some commotion on the outside. Bristling Katsiki let go of the hot pie and peeked through the window, only to see Shigaraki dressed in black rags and carrying a basket of apples.

Holy fuck, Shigaraki was the queen?!

Katsuki couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. “You?! Your crusty musty ass is the queen? HAHHAHA” He was nearly crying, Shigaraki looked worse than normal, and that was so hard to do in the blonde’s mind that he had to give the man kudos for surpassing himself.

“W-what? No, I’m no old queen, just an old man offering such beauty an apple.” Shigaraki stuttered, quickly jumping into convincing the teen into taking the blood-red apple in his ugly hands.

Katsuki wiped his tears of laughter. “I’m just, haha, sorry, It’s just been an annoying day.” He explained. “But alright, since you made me laugh so much I’ll take the apple, thank you for the few hours of peace, while that stupid Deku makes it here.” The blonde bit the apple, promptly falling asleep as he heard Shigaraki’s pathetic laugh.

۵⚜-The Beauty and the Deku-⚜۵

Izuku panted as he followed the forest’s animals toward the dwarf's house, where he knew Katsuki was waiting for him, the queen, whoever they were, was probably already chased off a cliff and Kacchan was placed in a crystal case.

He arrived at a clearing, watching as the dwarfs mourned Katsuki’s apparent death.

Wait. Was that Endeavour?! No. No, no time for that, literally everyone they knew was becoming a supporting character in these stories, it was entirely possible Endeavour was too.

...Was he supposed to be grumpy?

Izuku shook his head away from those thoughts and focused on Katsuki’s relaxed face as he slept and the dwarfs took away the glass casing on top of the snoozing blonde. Deku had always wondered why on earth the dwarfs just took off the case for some random prince to kiss the princess? What if it was just some creep? Though he had heard the age of the actual prince was 31, while Snow White was 14, which, what the hell.

Anyways he was getting sidetracked, maybe due to the nerves of having to kiss Kacchan, and the intense gazes the dwarfs were sending the green-eyes teen. He gulped, approaching the other man’s face, suddenly feeling very hot. It's not like they hadn’t kissed before, just two days ago Kacchan had kissed him, and there was always that one time they were 4 and wanted to know what kissing felt like.

However, both times it had been Katsuki who had initiated, not Izuku, Deku had never been the one to kiss someone, and the fact they were not conscious was really bothering him. It was morally incorrect to kiss someone who was unconscious, even if he somewhat knew Katsuki would be ok with it.

He felt dirty, like a 31-year-old prince kissing a 14-year-old girl, well maybe not that dirty.

But still, he did not feel great about this.

Finally, as his lips were millimeters away from Bakugou’s, Deku avoided the pink plump lips of his classmate and kissed the other’s cheek swiftly and reeled back. Katsuki’s eyes remained closed for dreadful long seconds, until red eyes fluttered open, sleepily batting long blonde eyelashes at Izuku.

“Took you long enough, nerd.” Katsuki complained as Deku offered him a hand and a taller teen rose from the adorned crystal bed.

“Sorry Kacchan.” Izuku said, relieved that the kiss on the cheek was enough to wake the other up. “Let’s go?”

Katsuki blinked. “Oh, yeah, you said we now ride into the sunset.”

“I-I mean, y-yeah, that’s how I remember it ended.” Izuku stuttered.

“Thank god.” Katsuki launches himself at Izuku's horse, waving at the dwarfs and animals as Izuku himself mounts it.

“Are you ready?” Izuku said, feeling like he forgot something.

“Yes.” The blonde rushed, a fake smile plastered on his face as he waved. “Let’s go you stupid piece of crap.”

“Right.” Izuku instructs the horse to start moving toward the horizon where a large range of beautiful reds and oranges paint the sky.

“Thank you for nothing!” Katsuki waves again, this time his smile is more genuine as he does a pg version of his usual cursing at the dwarfs and animals that probably don’t hear him due to the distance. “Hope you trip on your horrendous beards and die!”

The green-haired teen sweat drops as Bakugou finally settles down.

That is until he notices the horizon only seems to get further away. “No! Look, we aren’t moving on!”

Deku has to agree, as he notes his surroundings, while the background isn’t repeating, there seems to be no end to the valley even as seconds turn into several minutes. Well, if it isn’t the consequences of my actions, Izuku thought as he meditated the best way to confess why they may be unable to finish the story.

“Darn it!” Katsuki growled in frustration. “I swear I did everything you told me.” He tried to explain. “I even kissed Endeavour’s old geezer head.”

“I know, Kacchan.” Izuku reassured, gulping as he realized he needed to come clean. “It is my fault.” He confessed.

“What?”

“So you know ten minutes ago when I was supposed to kiss you and wake you up from the sleeping curse?”

“Yes…?” Katsuki nodded. “What’s your point?”

“I may or may not have kissed your cheek instead of kissing you in the lips like in the traditional story.” He said sheepishly. “...Sorry...?

Katsuki slowly turns to look at the dumbass he called childhood friend. “What did you just say?”

“...I’m...sorry?” Izuku’s voice got weaker.

“What on earth is your problem?!” Katsuki bellowed, his eyes glowing red. “You SAID that we needed to follow the story to get out, you made me PROMISE I would go along with it just this once.”

The other man cringed. “I know, I know.” He whined. “I’m sorry, it’s just when I had to kiss you, you were unconscious and it just felt wrong since you never explicitly agreed that I could kiss you.”

“It was implied that I wanted to kiss you!” Katsuki yelled and then blushed, Izuku did too. “I mean, it was implied I was ok with it, you bumbling buffoon!” He screeched.

“Buffoon...?” Izuku mumbled as he stared in surprise at red embarrassed eyes.

“Ughhh!” Katsuki said in frustration. “Being this mad without using my quirk is making me lame.” He explained to himself, he took the reins of the still moving horse and yanked it so it stopped. Then he threw his legs over the animal so Bakugou was fully facing Deku. “Let’s just kiss so maybe this can be over, you piece of garbage.”

Katsuki pulled Izuku roughly so their noses were touching. “Don’t think for a second I’m not going to kick your ass into the next century after we get back to UA.”

Before Izuku could respond, their lips smashed together, harder and deeper than necessary, all while he was vaguely aware the world started to crumble and fade into white once again.

#izuku x bakugo #bakudeku fan fiction #bakudeku art #bakudeku #katsudeku #katsuki x izuku #the beauty and the deku

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team-gabriel · 3 years

Note

♟brightglass?

so, uh… yeah. I might’ve gotten a little carried away. enjoy?

[also on my AO3]

♟- patching up a wound

Jack Bright was almost certain that he’s bled through the half-assed bandage job he’s done on his shoulder. He can feel the throbbing pain radiating down his arm with every exhausting step that he trudged up the stairs to his apartment.

He fumbled with his keys for a few moments before he finally managed to pull the door open, kicking his shoes haphazardly by the mat and hanging his (now somewhat bloody) lab coat on the hook beside the door… he’d wash that out in the morning; he was too tired to do anything about that tonight.

Judging by the blood on his coat, he knew that his shirt had to be soaked as well, and, looking down at the ugly, dark red stain that had spread across his once-white dress shirt, he found that his guess was correct. Jack groaned in frustration — yep, that shirt was ruined… he really liked that one, too…

Whatever.

Simon, who had been sitting at the kitchen counter, was currently pouring all of his focus into the psych reports scattered in front of him. The commotion Bright caused as he entered the apartment was enough to draw his attention, but he still hadn’t looked up from his work.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Bright muttered toward the psychiatrist before he even had a chance to speak.

“Rough day, I take i— Jack, what the hell happened to you?!”

Simon’s casual statement quickly turned into an exclamation of shock and panic the moment he glanced up to see his blood-covered boyfriend.

“Simon, I said I don’t wanna hear it,” Jack groaned in response. He was not in the mood for Simon’s fussing, and wanted nothing more than to just replace the bandages, put on a clean t-shirt, and go to bed…

“Jack—!”

“Don’t worry about it…” Bright dismissed as he tossed his keys and lanyard onto the table, undoing his tie and wincing as another sharp wave of pain hit him.

“Oh. Right. Yeah,” Glass replied in disbelief, his tone somehow managing to convey both sarcasm and utter panic. “There’s absolutely nothing to worry about here!”

“Simon. Really…” Bright groaned, both out of frustration and pain. “It’s fine…”

“Oh, sure looks it, Jack,” Glass replied, hastily gathering his papers into a pile and standing from his spot at the table.

Simon vanished into the bathroom and Jack could hear him rifling around through the cabinet for the first-aid kit… a lot of good that will do him, Jack thought bitterly.

“I’m too tired for this,” Jack muttered loudly. “Just let me go to bed—”

“Oh, so you can bleed to death?” Glass piped up, still digging around in the disorganized mess that was his cabinets.

“I’m not going to bleed to death.”

Jack heard Simon’s rummaging abruptly stop for a moment, and despite being in a completely separate room, Bright could practically feel the incredulous glare Simon was giving him right now. Simon muttered something under his breath and continued his search.

“…and so what if I do!?” Jack shouted back. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve bled out…! and sure as hell won’t be the last!”

Simon reentered the kitchen, having finally found the first-aid kit, and still refusing to give Bright’s previous comments any form of response. He grabbed the chair that he had been sitting in and loudly dragged it across the kitchen floor — Jack wincing at the harsh sound.

“You know, Si, those downstairs neighbors are probably loving you right now…” he remarked.

“Sit.”

“…You’re being absolutely ridiculous, you know that?”

“Sit.”

“Simon, just give me the bandages, I can do this mysel—”

“Jack Bright, sit your arse down in this chair, or so help me god—!”

“Damn, Si, look at you — taking charge like that,” Jack teased, his voice still having that sharp edge to it, once again refusing to acknowledge any of the severity of this situation. “…Keep talkin’ to me like that, and you’re gonna make me act up—”

Bright had enough sense to cut his statement short when he was met with that frustrated exhaustion in Simon’s eyes. He dropped his inappropriate comment and shook his head.

“Si, really… the only one working themself up about this is you,” Jack hissed, but nevertheless, he finally sat down.

Simon’s expression was still pressed in a tight frown as he muttered a tired “thank you…” turning and placing the plastic kit on the table, pulling out the supplies he needed.

Bright rolled his eyes as Glass returned, clearly trying his hardest to get a good look at the wound despite Jack being in no way helpful.

“Jack, would you just hold still—?”

“I am holding still—!”

“Well quit moving your shoulder th—!”

“Ow! Simon, that fucking hurts!”

“Jack, I can’t even see what I’m trying to work with—! Would you just—? Jack, just—!”

Glass exhaled a growl of frustration. Since Bright was clearly not about to make things any less difficult, he decided it was necessary to take matters in his own hands. He immediately began fumbling with the collar of Jack’s shirt, roughly undoing the buttons.

Bright’s grumbling quickly turned to a shout, and now it was his turn to raise his voice in concern.

“Hey — careful! Jesus, Simon, careful!” Jack snapped, throwing one hand over his amulet, the other snatching Simon’s wrist and roughly yanking it away before his hand could get any closer to the pendant than it already was. “Fuck, Si, would you just wait a fucking second?! I already feel like my shoulder’s been beaten to absolute hell, I don’t need you dying on top of everything else!” he screamed.

Simon flinched backwards, clearly startled both by Jack’s outburst and the realization of how close he’d come to accidentally touching the amulet. “I- I’m—!” Glass began unsteadily. “Jack, I’m sorry…!”

Jack stayed like that for a moment while he waited for his heart to stop pounding, Simon still staring down at him with that deer-in-headlights expression.

Finally, he sighed, letting go of Simon’s wrist and watching as the psychiatrist immediately drew his arm back, guarding it against his chest and unconsciously rubbing at the spot where Jack’s grip had been the tightest. There was another moment where their eyes met, and both of them decided to soften their demeanor…

“I’m sorry,” Simon mumbled again, backing off just a bit, but still unable to stop staring at Jack’s bloodied shoulder with concern.

He really wasn’t about to let this go, was he?

Bright weighed his options. The irritation of having Glass attempt to patch up his shoulder was decidedly not even close to being greater than the utter devastation that would come with Simon inadvertently killing himself — or worse — because Jack refused cooperate and Glass once again ends up getting a little too close to his amulet…

Another sigh as Jack undid the remainder of his buttons as best as he could with his one uninjured arm, allowing Simon to easily reach his shoulder. He sat back down and twisted the amulet behind his back, slipping it beneath the back of his half-unbuttoned shirt.

“There you go,” he said, still not overly enthused with this whole ordeal, but willing to bite the bullet if it meant just getting this over with so he can go to bed. “Have at it, doc.”

Simon’s expression was much softer than it had been just minutes prior. He stepped back up to Jack, first carefully taking in the scene, and then delicately beginning to remove the old bandages.

Bright cringed a little at the way they clung to the wound, and at the growing pile of blood-soaked gauze and tape that was accumulating beside him as Glass continued to peel them away.

“Christ, Jack… this looks bad…” Simon exhaled, gently dabbing some of the excess blood away with a damp rag.

Bright only hummed in agreement. To be completely honest, even he hadn’t really seen the full extent of his injury — he saw a lot of blood and he taped himself up with gauze until he couldn’t see it anymore — problem solved!

…But now he was beginning to see the jagged gashes where claws met skin. He didn’t exactly enjoy looking at it, but he continued to stare, as it was better than having to look at the worry in Simon’s eyes.

“This... might sting a tiny bit...”

A tiny bit proved to be an understatement. Jack sucked in a sharp hiss and dug his fingers into the arm of the kitchen chair the moment the antiseptic soaked cotton touched the wound.

“Sorry...” Glass whispered, still carefully dabbing the gauze around the gashes. “So sorry... Just a little more, Jack. It’s almost done, I promise.”

“Yeah…” Jack said through gritted teeth. “Whatever you say, Si…”

Simon worked with diligence, cleaning the wound with a delicate touch, methodically bandaging as he went. He managed to get most of the superficial cuts to stop bleeding using butterfly bandages, but it was becoming obvious to Jack that the worst of it needed sutures…

It was clearly obvious to Simon as well, who apprehensively bit his lip, looking from the wound to meet Jack’s eyes.

Jack sighed and shook his head. “Go for it, Si…”

“I’ll be gentle.”

“Whatever.”

Jack didn’t watch as Simon threaded the needle, he didn’t watch as he carefully examined the gash… but he definitely took in another little hiss of pain as the first stitch was made.

“Sorry, Jack…” Simon whispered.

“To be honest,” Jack gritted out again. “That fucking antiseptic was worse.”

As Glass continued to stitch up his shoulder, Jack once again found himself unable to look away, but now for a different reason. It always sort of amazed him when Simon did stuff like this. Granted, he’s only ever really seen it once — Jack had accidentally gotten his palm with a kitchen knife when he was washing dishes — but still, it amazed him. Glass worked with such exactness that, if he hadn’t known any better, Jack might’ve believed that he did it on a daily basis. He could tell by the meticulousness of it that this was no doubt a skill Simon acquired in medical school and perfected in his years as a field agent.

But, what Bright perhaps found the most shocking was how gentle Simon always was with him. No matter how much of a fight Jack put up, Glass remained delicate when it came to actually working on him. He’d whisper apologies after every wince or hiss of pain. He’d put such a high level of precision and care into his actions — when most everyone else at the Foundation (Bright included) would deem it unnecessary in the long run.

If Jack couldn’t truly die, then why bother putting in so much effort to save him? Why waste the time, skills, and material on keeping him comfortable?

But Glass… he always did. He’d care for him when he was sick. He’d tend to minor injuries no differently than to major ones. He’d sit by Jack’s side for anything.

But that was just a part of Simon’s nature, he supposed — to comfort. It was why he advanced so easily in his field. It was why the word “soft” was so frequently hurled at him like an insult.

And that softness was clear with the precise way he finished the last of the stitches… the way he gently cleaned away the residual blood… the careful way he bandaged his shoulder…

“Simon…?” Jack asked, watching as Glass finished up with the final bandages.

“Hmm?”

“Why do you do this?”

“Why do I do what?”

“Care so damn much,” Jack replied with a snort, although the heavy sincerity of the question still lingered in the background.

“About?”

“Me.”

“Why do I care when the person I love is severely injured? Is that really what you’re asking me right now, Jack?”

“You know what I mean,” Bright replied, rolling his eyes, only deciding to elaborate on that further after several moments of Glass doing nothing but staring at him incredulously. “I can’t die — not really — so, like, why put in all the effort, y’know?”

“Except you can die, Jack,” Simon replied. “…As you so frequently do. The only difference is that you don’t stay dead—”

“But is that really that different?”

“Yes, Jack!” Glass replied, the disbelief audibly rising in his voice, as if Bright were missing some point that was glaringly obvious to him. “Some may argue that it’s worse!”

Jack only rolled his eyes, prompting Simon to elaborate further.

“You aren’t invulnerable, Jack,” he continued. “You aren’t immune to feeling pain — in fact, you have felt such an immense level of pain, on numerous occasions, that a person should only have the capability to feel once, if ever, in their lifetime… You’ve experienced your own death, Jack. Over and over… And perhaps you’ve just become numb to it — or you like to claim that you have — maybe everybody else in this damned Foundation has as well—”

“Because it still isn’t the same as actually dying, Simon—” Jack butted in before Glass could cut him off again.

“Alright,” he replied. “Maybe it isn’t. But why does that mean that you don’t deserve to be treated with the same level of compassion as anybody else?”

Jack bit down on his lip, refusing to meet Simon’s eyes… he hated when Glass had a point on topics like this.

“Alright,” Simon continued, keeping his voice gentle. “The other month, when I came home feeling sick — you stayed awake with me—”

“Simon, that isn’t the same thing!”

“But was I dying, Jack?” Simon asked without so much as missing a beat, his tone rising with pretend disbelief. “Was I so critically ill that someone needed to waste their time on me? It was just a stomach flu — nothing serious, there’s nothing anybody needs to do for that except wait it out… why waste the effort, taking care of someone who was just going to get better on their own in 24 hours? Hm?”

Bright had gone right back to avoiding Simon’s eyes, this time going as far as to avoid looking at him all together.

“Simon, it’s…”

Glass sighed, letting his expression soften once more, losing the sarcastic edge to his voice.

“It’s what, Jack?” he asked softly, attempting to finish the sentence that Bright had given up on. “It’s not the same thing?”

Jack’s mouth was pressed in a tight frown as he turned his eyes to the floor, still unwilling to admit his ‘defeat’.

And, with a gentle, sincere expression, Glass finished his (albeit, mostly one-sided) argument.

“I love you, Jack…” he said. “I love you… and I hate seeing you hurt…”

Bright finally opened his mouth to respond, only to shake his head and close it wordlessly when he couldn’t find the proper thing to say. There was nothing he could say to disprove that final statement, and he knew that. He could feel the beginnings of tears prickling at his eyes… and he knew he was going to have a tough time trying to pass it off as still being caused by the sting of that stupid antiseptic.

That shield he put up was cracking, and Jack hated putting the vulnerability that lied beneath it on display. So, instead, he only leaned forward, gently bunting his head against Simon’s chest, burying his face in the soft, warm fabric of his shirt.

“I know, Jack…” Simon whispered softly, running his fingers through the back of Bright’s hair.

Jack took in a bit of a stuttering breath, letting the tears finally slip from his eyes and pressing his face harder against Simon’s chest. He couldn’t explain it with words — he never properly could — why there was something about Simon Glass that just felt so… right…?

Jack had never been good with feelings. And right then, he was swept up in such a powerful wave of different emotions that, for a moment, he thought he may drown.

He had come to believe that kindness almost always came with some sort of strings attached… but not with Glass.

Never with Glass.

He felt loved — so genuinely loved — that, at times, it almost overwhelmed him because of how unused to it he was.

So Jack held onto that feeling, staying there a moment longer, breathing in Simon’s warmth and feeling that gentle rise and fall of his chest. Until finally, he managed to gather enough composure to speak.

And, naturally, in true Jack Bright fashion, he attempted to change the subject entirely — anything to deflect from the fact he’d just been crying.

“You’ve got the hands of a surgeon, you know that?” he remarked, looking back down to his shoulder, trying to pull back up his cool, detached facade… although his voice was still a little unsteady and his sentence ended with a bit of a wet sniffle. “…Or maybe a painter. Ever think you might’ve gone into the wrong profession?”

He knew Simon had to see right through this pathetic attempt at a diversion as well, but he went along with it anyway.

“Don’t think I could handle the pressure of being a surgeon,” Glass replied softly. “Stitching someone up is one thing… don’t quite think I have the stomach for cutting someone apart.”

“So you settled for just taking apart their minds, then?” Bright teased, exhaling in what was half a laugh and half a choked, hiccup-y sort of sound.

“What can I say,” he replied lightly, turning and cleaning up his supplies. “Much less blood.”

Jack exhaled another quiet laugh and Simon couldn’t help but smile, and somehow, just seeing that made Bright feel warm inside.

His mind pulling him back to that unexplainable way that Simon just made him feel right.

Because there was just something about Simon Glass.

Something about those warm grey eyes and gentle smile that made Jack feel so at home.

Something about that open, deliberate way he expressed his love that made Jack truly believe that he deserved this… That this wasn’t a mistake. That this was what it felt like to be loved on purpose.

And Jack, despite years and years of denying himself the right to feel this sort of feeling…

He loved Simon right back.

✨send me a prompt?✨

#sarah answers stuff #brightglass #dr simon glass #dr jack bright #uhhh. I got carried away #nearly 3000 words later. here we are #blood tw #needles tw #I am fucking cringey…..but I am free

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jobean12-blog · 3 years

Text

Spiral of Need

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (FATWS!Bucky)

Word Count: 1,467

Summary: You and Bucky are on an undercover mission

Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club Bucky Barnes appreciation day and FATWS!Bucky. I got this great ask so I thought it would work perfectly for it. Hope you enjoy and thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤❤❤

Warnings: jealous Bucky, dom!Bucky, dirty talk, cursing, oral sex (f rec), SMUT (18+ ONLY PLEASE!)

DO NOT CLICK ‘KEEP READING’ UNLESS YOU ARE 18+ YEARS OF AGE, thank you!

You discreetly adjust your hidden earpiece before silently letting Bucky know you’re about to make your move. He gives you a small nod before turning to the bar and ordering a drink. You saunter over to your target, the dress you’re wearing leaving little to the imagination and the moment the man catches sight of you he grins.

Your skin crawls but you remain calm as you walk by. Alexander Pierce’s arm reaches out to touch your elbow and you stop, giving him a coy look. “Well, hello there beautiful. What are you doing here by yourself?” he asks, moving closer.

Letting your eyelashes fan your cheek you giggle. “Oh! Well, I was with a friend, but she seems to have found better company,” you explain, finishing the last of your champagne.

“It must be my lucky night then,” Pierce says smoothly. “Care to join me for another drink?” he asks, motioning to your empty glass and offering you his elbow. He introduces himself and you give him your fake name, taking his arm and walking toward the bar.

You can feel Bucky’s eyes on you the entire time but refrain from glancing his way. You’re sure to play the part of an interested and fawning woman, resting your hand on Pierce’s knee as he goes on about his new business plan.

After a few drinks Pierce starts to get more handsy and you know you need to download the information off his phone soon. His glass is empty, so you turn to get the bartenders attention. You feel his hand cup your ass and you inwardly cringe but instead of laying him out you slowly remove his hand with a shy giggle.

The sound of a glass breaking pulls your attention away and you look down the bar to find Bucky shooting daggers your way and broken pieces of glass littering the bar. You give him a questioning glance before turning back to Pierce who thankfully seems to be too busy staring down your dress to notice anything else.

Bucky’s POV

Bucky stares down the bar and watches Pierce’s hand caress your ass. His vision blurs with anger and he squeezes his drink a little too hard, the glass shattering under the pressure of his metal fingers. When you look his way, your eyes are questioning but you quickly shift your focus back to the target.

He lets out a low growl and he knows you hear it in your earpiece, your body giving away more than you realize. Pierce’s hand continues to brush over your skin and Bucky sucks in a breath, silently berating himself for losing control.

This whole mission has been torturous since the moment you walked out of the bathroom in that dress. The silky material hugs you like a second skin and the slit is so high it should be illegal. His hands have been twitching to rip it off for the last 4 hours and the fact that Pierce is touching you makes his blood boil.

Reader POV

Knowing your time is running out you lean closer to Pierce, whispering in his ear while discreetly planting the device for downloading the information. You pull back and finish off the rest of your drink, hoping to wash down the grossness you feel at being so close to the man.

“It’s done,” Bucky rumbles in your ear.

Giving Pierce a light kiss on the cheek you excuse yourself to the ladies’ room and walk away. Once you’re out of sight you make a bee line for the elevators where Bucky is waiting.

“Did you send Tony what he needs?” you ask, pulling the earpiece out. Bucky simply nods, his eyes unreadable as he waits for the elevator with clenched fists.

“Are you ok baby?” you ask quietly.

He doesn’t answer you. The elevator doors open, and he gently takes your arm, pulling you inside. Your back hits the cool mirrored wall as Bucky’s hard body presses along yours.

“Am I ok?” he counters, letting his metal fingers ghost down your neck. “I had to watch that asshole put his hands all over you for the past two hours and I haven’t been able to touch you.”

His voice is dangerously low, and you can’t stop your thighs from squeezing together. “I’m just doing my job baby. I hated every minute of it,” you tell him, grabbing his suit jacket.

“I hate it. I don’t ever want another man to know how soft your skin feels or how perfect this ass is,” he growls, reaching down and massaging it.

Your head falls back with a lewd moan. Bucky parts your legs with his thigh and smooths his hands over your hips.

“You’ve got nothing on under here,” he says, more of a statement than a question.

You start rocking your hips over his thigh just as the elevator dings and the door opens to the penthouse floor.

“Fuck,” he grunts, releasing you and walking you to the double doors. “Look what you did to my pants baby girl.”

You see the wet patch glistening on the fabric just before he drags you inside and crowds you against the wall.

“I’m going to show you who you belong to baby girl,” he whispers into your neck. His lips trail over your jaw and meet your lips. His kiss is dominant and needy as his fingers ghost over your collarbone to the swell of your breasts.

He releases your mouth and kisses down your neck, sucking on your pulse point before slipping the strap of your dress off your shoulder. “How do I get this off without ripping it?” he asks with a smirk.

You take the other strap and let it fall. With a few wiggles the dress drops to your waist revealing your strapless bra.

“You just have to pull the rest off,” you purr, toying with his bow tie. Your fingers make quick work of the silk and you let it hang loose over his neck, taking the two edges and dragging him closer.

“Take me any way you want Bucky. I’m all yours,” you coo before brushing your lips over his.

The rest of your dress falls to the floor in a shredded heap, his apologetic look short lived as he leads you to the bed. You fall backwards onto the mattress and he grabs your ankles, pulling you to the edge and spreading your legs.

You barely have a chance to grab hold of his short strands before he dives in, the first swipe of his tongue sending a bolt of electricity through you. Your heels dig into his back and you pull him impossibly closer.

“Oh my god, Bucky, don’t stop,” you cry out. “Please.”

His metal fingers trail down your thigh and slowly push into you. You tug his hair hard, loving the feel of his appreciative growl. You tighten around his fingers and he slows his movements, drawing out your orgasm.

When he finally pulls away you’re a panting mess and his chin and lips are shiny with your release.

“Turn over,” he commands, standing and taking off his suit jacket.

You watch as he unbuttons his pants and pulls them down, the outline of his arousal showing through his boxer briefs. His shirt comes off next, but his bow tie still hangs around his neck and you bite your lip, wanting to grab hold of it again.

“I said. Turn. Over.” His tone is dark, leaving no room for argument and you do as you’re told.

His metal hand smooths over the curve of your ass before he lifts your hips. He coats himself in your wetness and fills you up in one swift thrust. You moan into the duvet and your hands fist into the soft fabric as he begins rocking his hips.

His pace is relentless, and he grabs your hair, pressing his chest to your back. “You’re mine,” he whispers with a sharp tug.

“Harder, Bucky,” you beg.

He let’s go of your hair and grabs hold of your hips, slamming into you harder.

“You like when I show you who you belong to,” he grits out. “Don’t you baby girl?”

At his words, your walls start to clench around him, and he completely loses control, rocking the bed so hard the headboard repeatedly hits the wall. He finishes in a flurry of muffled curses, laying his sweat slicked body atop yours as you both try to regain even breathing.

“I fucking love you,” he whispers before pulling out and rolling off. He drags you into his chest and brushes the hair from your face. “I’m sorry I ruined your dress.”

Your fingertips trace along the scruff on his jaw and you narrow your eyes. “I love you too. And no, you’re not!”

@addikted-2-dopamine @bugsbucky @book-dragon-13 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @imerdwarf @fxckbuckyscoming @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @loricameback @lookiamtrying @la-cey @marvelgirl7 @nano--raptor @pinkdiamond1016 @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @tuiccim @the-wayward-robot @white-wolf1940 @littleredstarfish @lizette50 @harrysthiccthighss

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader smut #fatws!bucky #fatws!bucky x reader #bucky #bucky smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky drabble #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #hbc bucky barnes appreciation days

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munsnz · 3 years

Text

Sand — Steve Harrington

TW: Cussing ??

Summary: Where plans were canceled with your best friend, bringing along you and her ex together aka Steve Harrington, remembering the huge dick he was in high school. Perhaps in the span of one day, you catch feelings for him but during a fun activity leads you and Steve together.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader

Lydineo Radio: Let The Sun In — Wallows

Masterlist — Requests are open!

“I thought Nancy was coming,” You mumbled as you walked towards Steve Harrington’s car, where he wore a pair of his black sunglasses along with a summer blouse, leaning against his car. You and Nancy both planned to head on over to the beach, somehow convinced that Steve was going as well, even if they broke up. It had been a year since the mall burned down due to a mysterious cause, now it was another boring summer all over again.

He smiled a little as he saw you trudge over to him, “Plans were changed little one.” Steve pat you on the head, making you feel like a child and you smacked his hand away from your head.

”Ew don’t touch me,” you groaned and crossed your arms as you stepped away from him. He laughs at the funny gesture and takes his shades off to show his chestnut colored eyes into the open. “So what are we supposed to do?”

”We can......” Steve trailed off, looking at you, “I don’t really know, we can both go?”

You cringed at his words and statement, giving a funny expression playing at your face, “Steve...... I hope you’re kidding me. I don’t even know you much. All I know is that you’re Dustin’s friend and you worked at the mall.”

”I see you’ve watched me huh?” He chuckles at your response and cheekily leans over closer to you, “Guess my beauty- Ow!” He groans to see you step over his shoe, to make him shut up.

”Look, Harrington,” You snap at him, while you take his glasses away from his hands and put them on your face, “I cancelled all my shit plans to come to this little stupid trip Nancy told me and I’m still going, but I’m not gonna let your dumb ego stop me.”

Steve rapidly shakes his head at your orders and ruffles his hair a little being in front of you, a sort of tint of pink welled up on his cheeks. Was he blushing? Seeing him at such flustered state, you rolled your eyes to walk inside the passenger’s seat of his car.

“So are we going-“

”Get in......Asshole,” You smile at him as you shoot a glare at him, making him follow your directions to sit into the driver’s seat next to you.

He sighs a little and turns to you while he turns on the car, “You know Y/N...... you’re a little scarier than I thought.”

Scoffing at such remark, you punch his shoulder, making him laugh nervously, “I’m sorry but I’m not usually this scary.”

”Oh thank-“

You shot a glare at him again, he jumped and turned to the steering wheel. “So where we off to? Maybe we could grab a bite before we go?”

”Sure that’s fine,” You crossed your arms and huffed, this trip was going to be one shitshow for sure knowing you had to be stuck with Steve Harrington.

”How come I’ve never heard about you at school?” Steve asks as he sips down the last of his milkshake, watching you, fidgeting with your fingers.

Looking up at him, you claimed while laughing, “Well, you were too busy with popularity. I was just a shadow!” You noticed his eyes turn away from you and you sighed, “I hope you’re not like that anymore. Or are you?”

He shakes his head at your question, being able to express that he was no longer that douchebag he was in high school, “No not anymore. Not everything is about popularity.”

”You learned it the hard way huh?”

Steve nods his head at your claim. It seemed like you could read Steve by his expressions and words he spoke. You had never and I mean never have spoken to Steve Harrington prior to the school you both attended to. Just click. It did.

”How do you know me so well Y/N?” He pondered, while getting up from the table, sliding the money onto the bill for the waitress, “We just met and you read me like a book.”

”I don’t know,” You get up along with him, and both walk outside to find that it was already 4 pm, “Oh shit, it’s late.”

”It’s really intriguing to talk to you,” He blurts out, while walking to his car. You looked up at him, with widened eyes, “I-I mean we took around two hours talking to each other.”

You glanced at him, shuffling over inside his car to avoid any eye contact with you. As you came inside the car, he turned it on, driving to the south where the small beach was near.

The wind blew on your face, sending your hair all over the place as you got out of Steve’s car. Somehow a bit of hair got into your mouth and you began to choke but calmed down, whipping the bit of hair out of your mouth. You watched from afar the tides came in and out at the sandy beach located a few towns away from Hawkins. The air began to cool, meaning the sun was going to set anytime soon.

”I guess you’re not much of a beach or summer person right?” Steve calls out from behind you, making you look at him.

He read you correctly this time and you joked, “It’s my job to read you, not yours.” Both of you grabbed a picnic blanket from his trunk and began to walk to the beach area. You slid your shoes off, to place your feet in the thick, warm, sand as Steve followed the same thing like you. In the windy silence, you both laid the towel under you. Getting comfortable, Steve turned on the radio, faintly playing Higher Love by Steve Windows (coincidence? I think not), there wasn’t that much people at the beach that same day. A couple of kids who were playing in the waves from afar, but that was only it. Another driven silence began, but bored out of your mind, you decided to take off your crew neck, where your bathing suit was under and head to the water.

Doing such action in front of him, Steve felt flustered watching you slide your sweater off your body, “Something bothering you Harrington?” You laughed at him, to stand up and lend your hand towards him.

”I.....” Steve trails off, grabbing your hand to stand up and run towards the water, “Last one there is a rotten egg!”

”You’re such a child, Steve!” You giggled and followed him to the tide running in and out. You were sadly the last one that got there, being splashed water at your face by him, “You’re gonna regret that Harrington!”

“I’d like to see you try Y/N!”

Who knew you were chasing Steve Harrington across the water to see him being thrown by the wave crashing, sending him underwater. He comes back to the surface to find you next to him, splashing water in his face, getting back at him.

”I told you I’d get you,” You paddled your feet to keep you at the surface, smiling at him to find his ‘perfect’ hair ruined in front of you.

But as you watched him squint his eyes because of the water in them. You felt something touch your leg, making you quiver, “Ah!” You shouted as you rapidly threw your arms around him, unaware of who you were holding on to. Caught off guard, Steve feels his heart skip a beat, feeling your skin on his, sending you both underwater and back up to the surface.

”What’s wrong?!” He exclaims, blabbing out the salty water that accidentally went into his mouth, while grabbing you too.

”I felt something on my leg,” You look around at the body of water around you, still latched onto him. Freezing in your position, the only sound you both heard was of the ocean, nothing else happened. But slowly realizing who you were hung onto, you watch him awkwardly to find him holding you as well, bringing a whole feeling of nervousness. Letting go, although you didn’t want to.

“Karma,” He chuckles silently, and covers his mouth. Realizing your stupidity, it was just seaweed roaming around. You move your hair out of your face and begin to swim away from him, but felt a slight tug by your waist, guessing who it was you paddled away faster and giggled even more.

Now here was the place you were going to have a lifetime with this guy you barely know. This new friend of yours seemed like someone you have known for years on end. Just something about it, clicked.

After a shit ton of messing around and unintentionally flirting with each other, you grew exhausted. The swimming and running all over the place drains one out. Now you were splurged onto the warm sand, with a ton of mixed emotions everywhere, eager to try something different.

”This may sound weird but you’re cool.”

”I know I am,” Steve scoffs, laying shirtless under the towel and crossed his legs while you sat up, dusting the sand away from the seashells you both found lying beneath the sand. Another silence grew, the sound of the waves become louder, you were in the reality instead of that pretty daydream with him. You weren’t attracted to Steve. Correct?

Of course you were though, shockingly. But with such courage you sighed, watching the sunset turn into a deep shade of orange and purple, “Wanna do something weird?”

”I like weird,” Steve sits up, placing his arm onto his bent knee, “Tell me.”

You had never been such an outgoing or confident person, it seemed like you were more into the shy part of things. As you breathed out, you mumbled, “How about if we talk about the person we like the most? We write it down in the sand, and run away.”

”That’s weird.”

Whilst you were annoyed, you furrowed your eyebrows at him, “Steve I just said it’s weird-“

”I know I know,” He says, standing up and grabbing a stick from far away, “What are you waiting for?”

Scribbling an S, then a T and E, V, E, you finished, but panicked slightly knowing he probably didn’t like you. And no, it wasn’t a cliche thing. Or was it?

”I’m done,” You hear Steve’s voice make you jump nervously, signaling this would most likely be the end of your friendship. Wow, just one day in and poof! There goes another bond away from your life.

“Let me look at it first!”

Fear in his voice, he almost shoved you to turn away from the only letter you saw, “Hey! No I go first!”

”No let me!” You pushed him a little and jumped to look over his shoulder, but he was too quick and moved enough to block your sight to see the name.

In a fight, you still couldn’t see the pair of letters, and pushed each other around, in fear to know the other’s reaction of it.

“Asshole just let me-“

Oh God.

That boy knows.

He saw his name written, from behind your short height. Oh shit you were doomed for sure. It was surely impossible to love someone by day one. But this, this was different. Feelings were all over the place, as you noticed his eyes widened at the sight of the letter that spelled his name out.

You clicked your tongue and flinched a little before you would usually get rejected, “It’s a prank I’m kidding! I’m so funny right?”

Steve awkwardly looks around, putting his arms behind his back and stepped away for you to see YOUR NAME. Oh god you knew it was some prank. You watched and still saw his serious face driven by the silence, perhaps he wasn’t joking.

”Oh man,” You cross your arms, watching the letters printed on the sand being destroyed by the incoming wave, washing it away from existence, “We’re just pranking each other right?”

“Uh-“

”Just say it!” You walk over to him and spin away from him, “We should just go home, it’s getting late anyways.”

”I-“

You continue blabbing more nonsense about your summer and how this idea was just one big mistake. Steve knew you wouldn’t stop anytime soon so he stops you by grabbing your shoulders, catching you off guard. Wide eyed, and flushed face, he mumbles a little, “It’s not a prank, I wouldn’t play with love like that.”

”Love?”

”Yeah......” He trails off, watching you intently at the somewhat attraction he had for you, “I-I uh....I know this is fast. I don’t expect you to say yes which is totally fine I’m sorry I’m rushing this I-“

“I like you too Harrington,” You confidently move away for him to see the letters clearly written STEVE on it. Shocked, Steve snaps out of his thoughts to find you put an arm around him and look at him. “So is this the part where we admit our true feelings then realize we are actually in love after getting to know each other in the span of a day and we kiss under the sunset?”

Steve watched you cheekily grin at him, and nodded slightly, “I suppose-“ He was cut off by your lips pressing onto his, automatically bringing his hands on your waist, holding you closer to his body like glue. Both of you continue to move your lips in sync, realizing, maybe this boring and mistaken trip was all written in the sand.

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scarletwinterxx · 3 years

Text

could I be more obvious?

Since twitter is flooded with Haechan, and I am not complaining one bit. here’s a oneshot for my favorite sunshine🌻🌞 all those Hyuck pics, tweets and edits got me in my feels.

NOTE: Hi! so I did a sequel to this scenario, you can check it out here 😉😊

UPDATE: soooo I did a part three for this😊 you can check it out here

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2020 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

“I’m about to throw up, can you please put the heart eyes away” Renjun says from beside you, making you look away from Haechan who was standing across the room

“I did not have heart eyes whatsoever” you brushed him off, taking a sip of the drink you were currently holding, Renjun just chuckled then passed you the chips he was currently munching on, you were sure he’s about to tease you some more.

It wasn’t really a secret that you harbor feelings over the sunny boy, you couldn’t help it. The first time you hung out and he got you laughing over his jokes to the point that your tummy hurt you knew you were a goner.

The only downside to that is he’s probably the only person who doesn’t know, half the time your friends doesn’t know if they should pity your or cringe at the ‘heart eyes’ you keep sending Haechan.

“Right, because you look at me the same way” that made you send daggers his way, “See! You only look at us like that, never at Haechan”

“Never me what?” someone asked from behind you, the voice awfully close to your ear so it made you jump a bit. HIs chuckle was probably the cutest thing you’ve heard, it almost didn’t matter that you just embarrassed yourself infront of him

“That’s why my ears were burning, you two were talking about me weren’t you?” he threw an arm over your shoulder. The thing about Haechan is he’s affectionate to all his friends. This action would have got your hopes up but you knew better, it’s just Haechan being Haechan

“No, we weren’t” you muttered, sending a quick glare over at Renjun. Something Haechan didn’t miss but chose to ignore. You’ve always been close with Renjun, at first he thought something was going on between you and his bestfriend but when he asked Renjun all he got was a few laughs from his bestfriend and Renjun saying “You really are blind huh”

From then on he’s been thinking about what Renjun meant, then he started to notice how your eyes would follow him whenever you’re in the same room. How during conversations, the rest of his friends would talk about different topics but you’ll always listen to him, a smile on your lips and looking at him as if he’s the only person you hear.

You never flat out told Haechan you liked him and he never said anything about it. The amount of times he caught you staring at him, sending you a smirk when he does were evidence enough to him. How you would turn your head so fast, your cheeks dusted pink, he had to stop himself from leaning over and giving you a kiss.

Haechan always initiates skinship, always an arm around your shoulder or pulling you close to him in crowded places claiming he doesn’t want you to get lost but in reality he just can’t help but want you near him. He could just say he likes you, but something about the secret glances and shy smiles you give him makes him want to keep this little secret to himself.

But not tonight, not when you look like that. Wearing your cute yellow sundress and his jean jacket he nonchalantly threw over your shoulder earlier tonight when he saw you shiver a bit, the dainty sun necklace he got you for your birthday which he claimed he just randomly saw but really he spent so many hours worrying if you might like it or not, the vanilla scented perfume you always wear and that cute shy smile that you reserve just for him.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” You asked when you saw him just staring at you with this look on his face, feeling a bit self conscious under his gaze. You put your hand up to cover the half of your face but Haechan just chuckled, using his other hand that wasn’t already holding you to pull your hand down

“Nothing, just pure cuteness that is” he said then booped your nose, you can feel your cheeks burn. As if his close proximity wasn’t enough, he goes and say those kinds of lines to you. You’re pretty sure your face was bright red

“Oh my god get a room” Jaemin faked gagged so did Renjun, making Haechan shoot them a quick glare while you look somewhere else in the room. You would wish to be anywhere else right now but Haechan has you in his arms and honestly there’s no place you’d rather be

“Why don’t the three of you leave if you don’t want to be here then?” he sassily replied, “You heard the man, that’s our cue to leave” Jeno said, pulling the two other boys along leaving the two of you alone

“Was that necessary?” You asked with a chuckle, “They were ruining the moment”

“The moment?” you raised a brow at his statement

“Mhm” he said with a lazy smile on, making you smile as well.

Could it be more obvious? You ask yourself,

You’re so smitten over this boy, his smile was like light, his laugh is music to your ears and his hugs feels like home.

He looks down at you, not missing the quick glance at your lips before looking straight into your eyes

Could I be more obvious? Haechan asks himself, he was about to mentally scold himself for being too obvious thinking he might scare you away but you only showed him his favorite smile. Not being able to help himself, he closed the gap between the two of you and landed a softest kiss on your forehead.

“Could they be more obvious?” Renjun asked from where they were standing, spying on their two friends “I mean seriously do we have to lock them in a room or what” Jaemin said making Renjun roll his eyes, the two lovebirds still in their own bubble.

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

An Impostor In Love

Sequel to ‘Love For The Faceless’ (’Body Reveal’)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Rae can’t stay mad at her best friends forever. Them being absolutely adorable doesn’t help her ‘pissed off’ act either. Y/N’s outing Corpse like she’s a human lie detector. Corpse is gushing about her every second word that comes out of his mouth. And the rest of the lobby are getting one hell of a kick out of the Among Us romantic comedy - An Impostor In Love

Requested but, once again, not in a typical way. I honestly wasn’t expecting all the positive feedback I got for Love For The Faceless (Body Reveal). I was star-struck! You guys are so amazing I have no words to describe just how much I love you all! Thank you for everything! This story is for all of you 🥰🥰🥰

“Mr. and Mrs. ‘Totally not dating’ have entered the call!“ Sean announces when I hop into the Discord call to play Among Us with the usual gang. I hear Corpse’s laugh from down the hall, bringing a smile to my face.

We’ve gotten used to playing in this arrangement, a few rooms away from each other, ever since we moved in together - Corpse is in his recording room and I am in our shared bedroom. When one dies, they go in the other’s room to troll them. I’m usually the one dead, but that’s besides the point.

“Hi everyone!“ I say in my typical cheery tone before kicking it done a few notches, making it an octave deeper just to say: “Hi Rae.”

The whole lobby laughs, they all know what I’m trying to do here. Everyone’s aware this is the first time Rae is in the same call and lobby as Corpse and I after you-know-which incident. Sure, I’ve been poking sticks at her, waving a white flag and admitting I was wrong several times by now. Who knew my sweetheart best friend could act so cold? I know it’s a front. I know she’s fighting to stay mad. There’s a ton of pressure on her to finally forgive us, but she’s been holding up better than I would be if I were in her situation.

I honestly felt, and still feel, slightly guilty. I know best friends are supposed to tell each other everything. They are supposed to be the first ones to know whatever’s going on in each other’s lives. And I know I broke one of the main rules of friendships, but the decision wasn’t only mine to make. I’m sure she understands where I’m coming from, she’s just giving me and Corpse a hard time.

“Hello, Y/N.” She replies, her tone strictly formal.

“Progress, people! Progress!“ I say joyously, the smile turning into a grin

“Don’t worry, babe. We’ll get her eventually.“ Corpse reassures me as he’s done for the past week or two. He knew I wasn’t as unbothered by Rae’s anger towards me as I tried to appear - a pro and simultaneously a con of living with someone: they pick up on everything about you. You become as familiar to them as the back of their hand.

“I know, I know.“ I giggle, “She’ll cave.“

“Yeah, good luck with that.“ Rae has dropped the formal tone, now sounding like a stubborn child which is something I’m way more familiar with. I’ve dealt with her tantrums and childish outbursts - I don’t know which number it is, but it’s somewhere in the rule book of friendships - and I at least the approximate meaning behind it.

Ken puts an end to our friendly, stick-poking, sorta one-sided banter, ushering us to start the game. We all oblige, muting our mics and getting our heads in the game as though we’re about to enter an actual warzone with upmost stealth.

To my dismay, the screen flashes ‘Crewmate’. I head out of cafeteria to do my task in Weapons, staying weary of anyone within my proximity. Once I’m done, I head on down to Shields and complete my task there as well. I cringe when I’m done, knowing my last three tasks are in Electrical. Like, the fuck kind of luck do I have?

I make my way through the halls, running into Sykkuno and we circle around each other a few times to show we’re safe before we each continue our own way. I enter Electrical and.....oh Felix is dead. And oh lookie who’s right there...

I report the body before the impostor can and we all unmute our mics.

“Found him in Electrical.“ I say nonchalantly, “Didn’t see anyone in there though.“

“Anyone sus?“ Sean asks

We say our ‘no’s and ‘I don’t know’s and skip the vote. I’m smirking to myself as I head back down to Electrical. Walking in, I see the same person as before - Rae. I stop dead in my tracks and we just stare at each other for a few seconds before she comes towards me, circling me twice, bumping visors with me and venting out of the room.

“You’re welcome.“ I mumble, smiling widely.

I finish my tasks and leave Electrical just as Corpse enters our bedroom, giving me this tired-parent look like he’s half disappointed and half amused. “You just threw the game, didn’t you? Don’t lie.” He raises his eyebrows, fully adopting his parent role.

I giggle, shaking my head, sending him the briefest of glances before my eyes fixate on the screen in utter shock - Sean just killed me. Oh, for fuck’s sake...

“I was gonna come clean eventually, but I guess they won’t hear it from me now.“ I shrug, lifting my laptop and setting it aside so Corpse can join me on the bed. I snuggle up to him immediately, drawn to him as though he’s a human magnet.

“Who was it?“ He asks me, running his hands through my hair in a soothing manner.

I frown, pulling away from his chest to look him in the eyes, “Wait, how did you know I threw the game if you don’t know who I threw it for?”

He smirks, shrugging, “I didn’t know. You were smiling downright evilly when I came in so I just assumed.” He boops my nose. “And you ratted yourself out.”

I narrow my eyes at him, blowing some air out my nose - a gesture that has become my only way of showing anger towards him. I literally can’t even voice when I’m upset with him cause the grudge lasts like .5 seconds. I let him get away with more than he should.

Seeing as how I can’t argue to his statement, I lean back into his chest and pull out my phone to pass the time while I pretend to give him the silent treatment. Among my notifications is one for Rae’s stream. I smile and tap it, being taken to her YouTube channel and her live stream.

Just when the stream loads, Rae finds my dead body in Storage.

“Oh, nooooooo! Y/N!“ She wines as she goes over to it, “Sean must’ve killed her.” She reports the body and unmutes herself in game, “The body’s in Storage. I was on my way to call an emergency meeting cause I saw Sean vent in Security.”

“WHAT?!“ Sean exclaims in shock, “I didn’t! Rae’s lying. I swear I didn’t! I wasn’t even in Security!“

“Sean has been following me around this whole time. Just saying.“ Ken joins the discussion, throwing even more suspicion on Sean.

“We gotta vote someone.“ Charlie says, “Might as well be the most sus person at the moment.“

The voting results show all the little astronaut icons on Sean except his which is on Rae. Sean gets launched into space and the game continues. Having muted her mic in-game, Rae speaks up: “Y/N has been avenged. No one kills my best friend.”

I’m staring at my phone screen, eyes wide, eyebrows raised, a huge smile on my face. I take a glance at Corpse out of the corner of my eye and see he’s just as pleasantly surprised as I am.

“For those of you asking if I’m still mad at her and Corpse, the answer’s no. Actually, I think I was never mad. I was just in shock and a little hurt that I wasn’t made aware sooner.“ Rae says as she keeps wandering around the map, “Then I realized not talking to my best friend hurt more than the betrayal, you know. The only reason I still pretend is because it’s really funny to see her trying to soften me up.“ She laughs, “But yeah. I don’t know what I’d do without her or Corpse in my life. I love them both and love them even more together. My best friends are dating, I still can’t wrap my brain around that! They are sooo cute, you guys! I wish they posted more content of them together. I’m literally simping over their relationship! But shh, don’t tell em I said that.”

I laugh, overjoyed by what I just heard. I knew she couldn’t still be mad at us. I know she has every right to be, but she’s too sweet to actually hold a grudge against anyone ever.

I suddenly want nothing more than to give her an enormous hug and hold onto her for as long as she’d let me. I just now realize how lonely it feels to have never hugged your best friend because you haven’t hung out together in person. The only reason Rae now knows what I look like is because I sent her a full body picture of myself as one of my sad attempts to get her to start talking to us again. We have never met in person, and that thought kills me. It makes me impatient for this pandemic to end even more than before.

“Told you there was nothing to worry about.“ Corpse’s arms tighten their hold on my body, pulling me even closer which I didn’t know was possible. The most fulfilling and endearing feeling - being in the arms of a loved one. Being held so close and so tightly that you feel like you’re untouchable. Like you two can’t be hurt by anything in the world as long as you have each other.

“Yeah, you were right.“ I sigh in content, putting my phone down and covering his hands with mine, our rings clinking quietly when they touch.

“As usual...“ he whispers theatrically with his lips against my hair.

I playfully roll my eyes, catching glimpse of the screen showing Rae’s demise.

“Oh no, they caught her.“ I say, a bit disappointed she didn’t win and more than a bit responsible for her defeat.

I somehow manage to convince myself to get untangled from Corpse’s embrace and join the new round. I hear him groan as I settle my computer in my lap, unmuting my mic.

“See ya, kitten.“ Corpse kisses my temple, standing up.

“Oh my God, you two are too cute.“ Poki says sweetly, having heard what Corpse said to me.

“SIMP!“ Sean and Felix shout in unison causing the whole lobby to laugh. Corpse is as red as Rae’s avatar as he exists our room, running down the hallway.

“Ok, ok, ok. Hold on. I have to address this. I really hadn’t stepped foot in Security, let alone vented in there. Rae why were you lying?“ Sean’s voice cuts through the teasing directed towards Corpse and I.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Felix speaks up as well, making me break out in a nervous sweat, “Y/N, you literally saw Rae kill me, but you said you didn’t see anyone.“ He laughs, “Not gonna lie, I was a bit pissed.“

The call falls silent for about five seconds until Rae and I speak simultaneously.

“I was avenging Y/N.“

“I was helping Rae.“

Silence follows our statements, not for long though, as our friends break out in amused laughter.

“Fuck’s sake, you two make a good team.“ Sean says through genuine laughter which Rae and I soon join him in.

Felix and Sean and the rest of the lobby forgive us for throwing the game from both the crewmate and impostor’s side and we move onto another round. This time I have only one task in Electrical which I leave for last as always. I don’t feel like dying right from the get-go. I start by doing the card swipe in Admin and then the fuel task in Storage. As I make my way to Upper Engine, Corpse leaves Electrical, falling in step with me. I immediately get nervous, but still make my way to where I’m supposed to go, hoping he’d go his own way eventually.

I stay wary of my boyfriend as I do my task, praying he won’t take my head off. When the task is finished, I find I’m trapped in the room with the doors shut. And Corpse right there. With every right and opportunity to kill me and vent. No one would know. No one saw us.

That nervous sweat is back.

I’m counting my last seconds of being alive.

And it happens...

A body is reported

“Oh than you so so so much! Corpse was gonna kill me in Upper Engine!“ I don’t let the person who reported the body speak, thanking them for my survival. “I was sure I was a goner.“

“Babe, come on now. You know I wouldn’t kill you even if I was an impostor. I love you too much.“ Corpse hurries to defend himself, “I’m following you around to keep you safe.“

I can tell he’s capping, but I have no concrete proof. He knows I’m onto him. His best bet is having me killed by the other impostor. He might have been capping the majority of his defense, but I know he won’t kill me.

“I’ll vote for myself because of that one.“ I mumble

The vote is skipped except the one vote I placed on myself and the round continues. I follow Corpse around the whole time, making sure he’s completing tasks - not that I can be 100% certain he’s actually completing them.

All is well until we walk into Admin and find Felix there, uploading data. Corpse, dead-ass, goes up to him and kills him, reporting the body right afterwards.

“IT’S CORPSE!“ I don’t give him a chance to start his brainwashing of the rest of the players. “Felix, this is my redemption for leaving your death unavenged last round.“

“Yeah, it’s me.“ Corpse laughs, that adorable laugh of his melting me despite the need to stay strong and carry out my argument, “Just vote me out so I can go troll Y/N.“

“Sounds like a plan to me.“ Ken says, the remainder of the crewmates, and the impostor probably, agreeing with him.

The votes are put in, all on Corpse obviously, and he is sent off into space. Not even five seconds later I hear his footsteps approaching.

I look up when he pops his head in the room and says, “I have come to annoy you to death with my love for you.”

I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head. The things this man does to me are insane. It’s insane that I let him.

It’s amazing, really. We’re amazing.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I pat the spot on the bed next to me, “I’ll allow it. But only cause I love you too.”

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis

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inkedtae · 4 years

Text

rupture; rapture ⇾ kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ex-boyfriend!taehyung x reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ one shot, angst, smut, f2l(?), e2l(?), ex lovers au, rekindled lovers(?), sculptor au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ responding to a late night call for help forces you to revisit truths you so skillfully ignored. was it always meant to fall apart to fall back into place?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 13.2k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ slight upsetting themes, mentions of a new relationship, mentions of infidelity (tae thinks reader used him to each on her date), vague mention of consuming alcohol, switch!Taehyung, mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, clay/paint/art sex(?), hate-love sex(?), makeup sex(?), size kink, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms (f.), creampie, overstimulation, a lil degradation, a lil face-licking, body worshipping, clit worshipping, a lil clit biting, choking, spanking, motorboating, begging, teasing, swearing, breath play, breast play

anon asked: taehyung19angst asghjkll. U have a prompt list ? So for that. Maybe. If u want to. WOW. Ur awesome. The bestest. Okay. Bye. Love. Me.

#19 ⇝ “You said you knew how to do this.”

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i am aware this is supposed to be a drabble but that never seems to be even for taehyung so here’s a one shot instead. also sorry for writing this so late

☾ banner by ⇾ @editingverse (thank you so so so much dear~ please go give her all your love!! this banner is beautiful!!)

☾ beta’d by ⇾ @kkulmoon (luff you, my soulmate crackhead~)

☾ le playlist

◖send me a prompt from dabble drabble. i will try to get to it as soon as i can. please note that i have the right to refuse any request i find uncomfortable.◗

Navigating to the chipped yellow door is second nature. Four months of distance does not change how easy it is for you to find your way to his place from across town. Your most haunting regret, however, is accepting his call. You sat around your apartment for months, fantasizing about how powerful you’d feel when your phone rings and you see his name flash only to decline the call. You told yourself that is how you will regain your dignity, how you will reclaim your life. He’s been a big part of it since freshman year. Best friends instantly, lovers only a year down the line. Clicking that red button, rejecting his apologies is how you believed you’d be able to move on and fully erase him from your life for good.

But, in the midst of a drink with someone else’s company, he calls and you do not refuse. Your heart flips only to fall and shatter in the pit of your stomach. You press the green button without much thought and bring the phone to your ear. He sounds so unsure, so nervous. A relieved sigh you didn’t realize you were holding escapes you. Eyes watering, you whisper his name.

The shame creeps upon you, condescendingly soothing your ego. Where’s your dignity now? It’s as nonexistent as when you stormed out of this very door and swore never to return. You can hear the fates snickering, watching your pathetic self stand outside of the door. Shaking out a shiver, you gather up the scattered pieces of your courage and knock on the door.

The screech of metal on metal echoes as he unlocks the door. The sound is more comforting than you expected it to be. You can’t remember the amount of times you’ve nagged him to replace the damned thing. It’s old, rusted, and the scratches of the metal make you cringe as though your bones are rotting. It used to make your jaw ache, now it only comforts you. Little things already undress your confidence. What will seeing him again do? What emotions will it beckon?

Misery leaks from your bones and into your bloodstream. The door opens to a vision of grace. In his clay-smeared jumpsuit, the sleeves wrapped around his waist and his bare chest exposed, he stares back at you. Though frozen from the winter air, you feel your face grow hot. Eyes shaking, you don’t know where to look. You’re not even sure if you can meet his gaze. It intensifies with every ticking second his long bangs fall over his lashes. He let it grow out? You’ve begged him to do so for months and once you’re apart he finally gives in? You knew he’d look good, maybe even better than his shorter cut.

The sight only confirms that you’ll never understand him. But, you suppose, you don’t have to. He’s not yours to understand anymore, not even as a friend. That statement should give you a sense of relief, but it only resurfaces the loneliness you’ve been ignoring for months.

Shakily sighing, you plaster a polite smile and greet, “Hey Tae.”

Taehyung parts his lips, but his voice catches. He stares back at you, gaze dancing up and down your frame. He drinks in the way your black dress pants hug your curves, and how you dare to wear a tube-top under your coat in the freezing weather. Gulping, Taehyung flashes you a kind, tight lipped smile and moves aside to welcome you in. His chain looped earring dangles with his movements. It’s such a simple antic, but you cannot fight off the familiar comfort in your chest upon catching it.

Each step back into his apartment fogs your mind with memories of joy and despair alike. Sometimes, those emotions rise in tandem during the same memory, within the same five minute time span. But other times, those memories are saturated with one emotion or the other. You two could never find that balance; not as lovers anyway, not as you thought.

“Make yourself at hom-” he cuts himself off just as the door shuts.

You turn to face him, raising a brow at his slip up. Funny how things circle back no matter how much either of you try to suppress them. This place has always felt like home to you. In fact, revisiting it proves that it still does. He just never let you make it official.

The gloom of four months ago has followed you back in here as well, it would seem. You gulp down the little scratch in your throat and try your best to flash a smile. His brows raise at the gesture. You assume a teeth braced wince paints your features instead.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung corrects himself, “Comfortable. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab you a hot drink to warm you up.” His gaze shifts to the slanted window over his little studio sectioned in the corner of his apartment. “It’s really coming down out there.”

Setting your clutch down on his work table, you nod. He glares at your action before looking back at you. You are fully aware of his distaste for you to dump your things near his work, even if it happens to be your own sculpting supplies. However, he distrubed your date tonight and that little slip up of his recalls more anger than you care to accept right now. Playing into his pet peeves is the very least you can do to show him that you’re not here for anything else but fixing his sculpture.

With a pleasant smile plastered on your lips, you peel your jacket off and set it down on the table as well. Taehyung sarcastically smirks then makes his way to the kitchen. You know you shouldn’t but you let your eyes linger on his frame and follow him around the kitchen while he prepares something for you. His shoulder blades flex as he reaches for a mug from the top shelf - a detail you always found makes you anxious because the cups can easily slip out of his hand from such a height and break.

He must feel your gaze as he glances back at you. “You must be freezing,” he comments.

Looking down at your half top, you shrug. “Not really. That’s what a jacket is for.” You shouldn’t sass. It always gets on his nerves. But, the way he regards you with such tamed hostility and smirks all knowingly, switches something in you. You cannot hold yourself back and he cannot expect to call you over here in the dead of night for help only to glare and sneer at you.

Out of sheer spite, you sit on one of the stools by the table and bend down to untie your thick heeled boots. He absolutely hates this. Sloppy and messy, is what he tells you when you come into the apartment with your shoes on and take them off near his studio. Taehyung stirs the contents of your mug, tossing daggers at you in his stares.

It is only now, in the thick silence, do you hear the soft voice of Sinatra through the vinyl player. Glancing over at the source, you recognize the album cover immediately. It’s the same one you gifted him for his birthday last year. His next one is in a couple of weeks. The realization unexpectedly twinges your heart with guilt. You feel as though you should have already bought his gift, and planned his party. It’s not your responsibility to do that anymore, but you want to and that’s enough for your tongue to coat with disgusted remorse.

“Want me to get you a sweater?” Taehyung asks.

You sit up straight at the close sound of his voice. He stands in front of you with the mug in his hands, glaring down at your boots. Kicking them off by the heel, you stare down at the puddle you’ve made beneath the chair. You should apologize but, instead, you thank him for the drink, take it from his hands, and make your way to the project he’s been working on. He mutters curses under his breath before cleaning up the mess you’ve made… As he should.

You smirk into your cup before taking a sip. Hot chocolate. It’s all he can make, or cares to make. And though it is not your favourite drink, he still prepares it to your specifications. Extra sweet and creamy, with a dash of ginger. Could the habits of your past be muscle memory he cannot shake either?

The answer never arrives as your thoughts halt at the sight of his sculpture. Though returned back onto its pedestal, the torso seems to have endured a terrible fall. He’s so careful about things like this. How could he have let it happen? Was the inner wiring he used too heavy? Did he not use enough slip, otherwise known as wet clay, to keep additions in place?

You bite the inside of your cheeks to school your features. Still, there is no hiding the truth. Especially when it’s right in front of you. Redemption is nonexistent. The sculpture is ruined. Tilting your head, you stare at the unfinished molding and try to figure out how to fix it without adding more clay, since he claimed on the phone that he doesn’t have enough to start over.

“Well?” He asks behind you.

Looking back at him, you take another sip then hand him the cup to hold. Taehyung accepts it, bringing the mug to his lips. The gesture is so simple, so casual that you almost miss it. He did it a lot when you two were together. You did it too. It was never a pet peeve but rather something you were proud of. It proved how close you two were, how well you meshed. Sharing food is common between lovers. Only now, that’s not at all what you are.

You stare at him, mouth gape. He licks his lips before taking another sip. The action repairs your heart only for your reality to wreck it all over again. Catching your eye, he raises his brows in confusion. You flicker your gaze between him and the cup, hoping the silent gesture is enough to return his senses.

Eyes widening, he holds the cup away from his face. “Oh,” he hums under his breath. “I’ll, uh, get you a new one.”

“Don’t bother,” you shrug before he can even turn towards the kitchen. “It’s not that big a deal.”

It is. You’re not his and neither is that hot chocolate. He should know better. He should pay attention more. He can see this all in your eyes as you continue to silently judge him. It’s not that big a deal, you repeat to yourself. The way his large eyes soften, the way he pouts is not that big a deal. You have a job to do, feelings to ignore, and a person to never see again. All you have to do is remold the clay and be on your way.

Finally returning your attention to the sculpture, you approach it while pulling your hair back. It’s rather large since he scaled it to be life-sized, so you assume he has some structural wiring in there to keep it in place when molding. You might have to take it out and remold the entire section. But maybe you can simply push the wiring back in place? However, if your theory about the wiring being too heavy is correct, you might face another smash to the floor. So it seems easier to just pull it all out.

“Is the clay still wet?” You ask before poking the shoulder.

It’s tacky, but that’s not enough to keep it from drying. You scan the room for the spray bottle, finding it behind you. Being a sculptor yourself, you know that the clay has to stay wet enough to be able to continue to add and mold it. Your scan of the room reflects that he is close to finishing the project. He has the muse’s head and arms wrapped in air-tight bags to keep them from drying. They just need to be slipped, slid, and smoothed into place. The details also need to be added, but for the most part, he’s just about done.

“If you’re gonna figure it out yourself, why did you ask me?” He sighs as he sets the mug down near a cup of paint water.

His tone is uncalled for. Nothing seems to have changed. He still has a temper and makes no effort to readjust his attitude. You toss him a glare over your shoulder. After spraying some water over the sculpture, you start to dig your fingers into the molding. Taehyung sucks in a sharp breath behind you. You can’t blame him for such a reaction. It must be very disturbing to watch someone else dig through your hard work.

You take off the clay bit by bit, looking for the metal structure wires he must’ve used to keep it all shaped well. However, as you place another chunk on the table, you begin to realize that the sculpture is not hollow, meaning wires have not been used. He simply ventilated the slab of clay to help air bubbles escape when it comes time to fire it.

Furrowing your brows, you look over at him in confusion. He leans back against his work table with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at you. Is this a joke? He doesn’t need your help. He could’ve dug through the smushed clay and remorphed it himself. He’s more experienced than you are; he should’ve known this.

Your anger begins to fester in your chest. He must’ve heard. You still share some mutual friends, so he must’ve heard down the line that you were going out with somebody else tonight. Your outfit of choice is a clear indicator as well. He found out about your date, your first date in the last four months you’ve been broken up, and just needed to ruin it for you. Fuck, you can’t believe you seriously bought his lies again. It’s that stupid voice of his. So deep and soulful, you can never resist it’s lulling temptations.

“What?” Taehyung pushes himself off the table and walks towards you. “You’re pouting like you always do just before you’re about to shout. Is it that bad?”

Is that what he’s doing now? He’s trying to remind you how well he knows you, how well he can read you? If this is just another reminder that no one is like him, you just might prove him right and scream out of frustration. Huffing, you roll your eyes at him. No matter how much your heart flips and flutters at his concern, you will not fall for his stupid games.

He watches in confusion as you clean your hands off with a cloth. “God, (Y/N), what is it? I thought you said you knew how to do this.”

With a dry chuckle, you shake your head and mumble, “You’re still the same liar you’ve always been, Taehyung.”

The perplexed sculptor narrows his eyes. “What did I tell you about mumbling?” He questions in a grumble. “And what the hell are you going on about anyways?”

His tendency to be a walking contradiction will never cease to irk you. He tells you not to mumble then does it himself. Just another pet peeve he’s instilled in you that you can never shake. Then there’s the continuous lies he can never seem to stop telling. For once, why can’t he just be honest?

You toss the dirty cloth at him and make your way to his precious work table only to find that he moved your things to the chair by the door. You rush in that direction instead, and Taehyung follows not too far behind. “I can’t believe you’re still pulling this shit even when it’s over,” you scoff with a shake of your head. “You made it seem like you had no idea what to do. You guilted me into coming back here and for what? To ruin the first night I stopped thinking about you? Well, congratulations,” you drily chuckle as you grab your clutch and turn to face him. “You’ve ruined my night and my date.”

Taehyung pauses mid stride. “Oh,” he rasps, eyes roaming over your body once more. “You had a date tonight?”

Eyes wide, softened, and wet, his next words catch in his throat. All you can make out is a quiet rasp. It’s a convincing act, but you know him well enough to spot his feigned innocence from a mile away. Setting your jaw, you shake your head and sigh, “Not any more.”

You reach for your jacket, but Taehyung is quicker. He snatches it first and holds it behind him. You open your mouth to curse at him when he rushes to say, “Wait, wait.” Hand on your waist, he holds you still.

You freeze under his palm. He’s barely used much force. It’s the simple touch itself that sends you into a trance. The memories of being pinned beneath him, or guided into grinding against his hips rush back to you. Breath hitching, you try to wipe the affection from your features. The searching look in his eyes tells you how bad of a job you’re doing.

“I could fix it myself, but not by myself,” he clarifies. “I just didn’t know how to get you here without making it seem like it’s a complete disaster. Be honest, (Y/N), if I told you I wanted you to sculpt with me you wouldn’t have shown up.”

Be honest. When the fuck have you ever lied to him? The question is tempting to ask, sitting right on the tip of your tongue actually, but you can already tell that you’ve made your annoyance known as concern swims in his eyes. He’s trying to find where he went wrong in his explanation. He’s never done that before. He never notices your discomfort during a fight, but always after the fact. That’s enough to have you consider his explanation, to consider the fact that maybe he has not changed completely, but he’s trying. Perhaps you should start trying too.

Besides, he’s not wrong. If he didn’t make it seem like it was irreversible, you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation over or even thought about ditching your date. Chewing on your lip, you sigh and nod. “Fine, I’ll help you fix it.”

A relieved smile plays on his lips. He removes his hand from your waist, muttering a quiet apology then returns your jacket onto the chair. You set your clutch down on there as well, nowhere near his work, and follow him back to the sculpture. He sprays it down as you take another couple of sips from your hot chocolate.

“When is this due?” You ask as you set the mug down.

Taehyung’s gaze shakes. “At nine,” he reluctantly replies. He sets the spray bottle down. You stare at him in confusion.

The time is both seemingly vague and specific. You furrow your brows, blinking rapidly in hopes that you can reprocess the information for more clarity. When that doesn’t work, you ask, “Tonight?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Thirteen hours? That’s all you two have to remold and detail a life-sized sculpture. This information alone would’ve had you running to help as well. Why didn’t he just tell you this? Why did he have to lie? No, nevermind his lies. You both have thirteen hours to remold the base, attach the head and arms, and add all the details on all four pieces. It may seem like a lot of time but you also have to let the clay sit for a few hours before firing. However, with a sculpture this large, it might need at least three days to dry. How did he expect to finish the rest on his own?

Nothing is adding up. You know Taehyung very well. You’ve shared sculpting classes countless times. His work comes first; always. He sketches and prepares months in advance for a project since the clay can crack or explode during its bake. How could he not have done the same thing here? He should’ve started this at least four months ago… oh.

Taehyung spares you a nervous glance. He can see the realization of his own reality in your eyes. You swallow thickly, knowing you should just pretend that you haven’t noticed anything. Still, you say, “Tae, we both know that’s not enough time. Even if we split the work, it still needs-”

“Don’t worry about that,” he mumbles. His hands smooth over every chunk of clay he reapplies. “Let’s just piece it all together, okay?”

There is a lot you have to force yourself to ignore in his words and tone. He mumbles orders, and expects you to follow. His voice is deep and cold. He gives you his back while he speaks. It’s but another pet peeve of his that makes you want to pull your own hair out. However, most of all, you have to force yourself to ignore how painful it is. Seeing him again, only an arm’s length away, crumbles your anger and hearing his voice reminds you that he still holds every bit of your heart. You have to blink your tears back at the realization. This idea reeked the moment you considered it. But, you can never stop yourself when it comes to him. A year of friendship and two of love; how can you forget all of that in four months?

Taehyung turns to you, his eyes trailing up from your hips to your chest where they linger. Flickering his gaze back up to yours, he offers a tight-lipped smile. You fail to find it in you to return it. He sighs. Hands by his side, voice heavy with sincerity, he says, “I won’t force you to stay, babe- (Y/N).” His slip up has him frozen in place as well. Clearing his throat, he continues, “I need to get this done and you’re the only other person I know who knows how I like it.”

The familiar pet name gives you pause, but the end of that sentence has you hot all over. Your eyes widen at the alternate implication of his words and you can’t help but choke on your next intake of air.

Taehyung’s expression mirrors yours. Face reddening, he’s quick to correct himself. “No, no, I just mean artistically.”

You cannot find the words to say something, anything to make this situation better. Lips parted, all you can voice are quiet croaks of uncertainty. His large eyes, wide with anxiety, watch you carefully. He’s clearly unsure of how else to soothe your discomfort. He goes to say something else but the words fall short. The scene has your skin crawling with shivers. Shaking your head, you walk around him to smooth out the clay he remolded.

“I’ll fix her waist. I think you should get started on the details,” you say, hoping his words can just fizzle away along with the awkward silence that has fallen over the both of you.

Taehyung takes a deep breath. His eyes remain trained on you for a moment, watching as you match the sculpture’s left side to her right. Then, he circles around you and makes his way to his work table.

Though you should be focused on your work, you still have one eye on Taehyung. The jumpsuit sits low on his hips, and his back is bare of any scratches. Your lasting desire to mark up the blank canvas of his back tightens your core. You can feel your black pants dampening at the thought alone. Your hand gently presses into the mold, smoothing out every piece you add.

With Sinatra’s calm voice circling around the room, you and Taehyung fall into a comfortable silence. The rhythm of your actions, the way you move around each other is like muscle memory. You can subconsciously anticipate the other’s next move and react accordingly. He hands you tools before you need to ask and you accept them without a second thought. It’s easy, comfortable, and so familiar that you almost forget he ruined your plans tonight.

Taking a step back, you wipe your wrist over your brow then assess your work. You’ve been trying to sculpt one of the figure’s breasts, adding clay and rounding out the mold. However, it seems like you’ve undershot a bit and made one mound a bit smaller than the other. You sigh and reach for more clay when Taehyung interjects.

“Leave it,” he says from his place beside you.

When did he step back too? He was just detailing one of the sculpture’s hands. “They’re uneven,” you point.

He smirks. “I like them that way.”

His eyes flicker to your chest again before meeting your gaze once more. You shouldn’t look into that gesture too much, but you do. He can’t say something like that, stare at your breasts suggestively and think you wouldn’t notice. Unless, he wants you to notice. You start to wonder how often he’s thought about your breasts and why he feels the need to incorporate them into his project.

While you remain standing in your place, Taehyung returns to his crouched position and continues his work. You can’t bring yourself to move just yet. You stare at the sculpture, at the curve of her stomach and dip of her waist. She’s full-figured and even has stretch marks on her hips, well the side that has not met the floor still has stretch marks. You need to add them on the other side. But, the shape of her body just looks all too familiar.

No, no, it can’t be. He didn’t sculpt your naked body entirely from memory. And why should he? You’re not a couple and he’s made it clear during those four months of silence that he doesn’t want anything to do with you either. No, this is merely just some consequence. You sigh and get back to work. Those thoughts completely boarded shut out of your mind.

“Were you having fun?” He suddenly asks, standing up to start detailing the sculpture’s breasts.

You glance up at him, about to ask what he means when you remember the date. “Oh,” you hum. You’re not sure how much to tell him, or if you should even entertain him with an answer at all. He’s obviously still affected by the break up if he let it get in the way of his project timeline. What was your date’s name anyway? Morgan, Mac, Mark- Mark! Yes, it was Mark something or maybe something Mark. Fuck, you can’t even remember his name. You’re not even sure where you met up for drinks.

Taehyung pauses his sculpting around the figure’s nipple. He chances a quick look at you, raising a brow. “That bad?” He teases with a playful smile.

His light-hearted tone shocks you out of your thoughts. Maybe you read the situation wrong. Maybe he is over you. Otherwise, why would he ask you about your date so casually, like you two were friends? Or maybe… he’s seeing someone else himself? Sumni did ask for your permission to date him. She was so kind and understanding in her questioning that you couldn’t refuse her. Even if it was a week ago, she would have already talked to him by now and they could’ve already gone on their own date. The sheer thought of Taehyung dating around makes your throat tighten and stomach ache.

“I didn’t stay long enough to make up my mind,” you reply, trying your best not to mumble. Your voice is small though, and tone shot by misery. A wave of hopelessness washes over you at how final everything between you and him feels again. “I don’t think he’s for me though.”

Taehyung hums in acknowledgment or understanding? You don’t know. You can’t pull yourself out of your self pity long enough to decipher it. “Poor guy,” he mutters as he picks up where he left off on the sculpture’s breast.

You carve uneven lines on the figure’s hips, recreating some stretch marks like he had done to the other side. Raising your brows, you question, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs a single shoulder. “I just know what it’s like to lose someone as great as you,” he explains in a near whisper. “The poor guy is gonna lose his mind.”

Tears sting your eyes. He can’t do this. He can’t guilt you for leaving him, not when you both know that it’s just as much his fault as it is yours. Still, even in the midst of pain, the kindness laced in his words tugs the corners of your lips into a small smile. Is that what happened to him? Did this poor guy, this poor little sculptor lose his mind when he lost you?

You toss him a sidelong glance, whispering, “He’ll survive.”

“He can only pray to.”

What is this? What is he trying to say? So he regrets the way that things ended, perhaps even that they ended entirely. Does he think you don’t? Nothing can change how you feel for him. Nothing can hide how badly you wish you can still call him your own. But, he said it himself. He does not want you around, in such close proximity to him anymore. Two years into, what you thought was, a serious relationship and he does not want you living with him.

“I’ll grow tired of us,” he said. Or does he not remember? Did he forget how he promised he’d get you a key, or help you pack? Did he forget how high he got your hopes? Has the fear of getting bored of your company finally withered away?

What does it even matter now? You both said things you haven’t even attempted to take back. Not a single apology has been issued either. Whatever relationship you once had is gone. You can never get it back. Still, you don’t have the stomach to break it to him. You can’t destroy the last little bit of hope he has in you. You can’t find it in you to tell him that no amount of prayer will get you to willingly return to such a relationship.

“He hasn’t been in my company for too long to miss me. Actually, I’m worried he’s already grown tired of it,” you reply. Guilt immediately sheds your pettiness. You know you shouldn’t have said that. Though, he did egg you on. How could he have expected to bring up such a subject and think that you wouldn’t retaliate?

Taehyung tenses and shifts his jaw, giving the impression that he’s chewing gum, and turns to glare at you. From experience alone, you know very well that when Taehyung chews on his imaginary piece of gum, he’s either cocky, pissed or both. This time he has tears glassing over his eyes. Shame cringes your heart. You can’t bring yourself to look at him again. Getting even does not feel as dignifying as you thought it would. You cannot even find a shred of pleasure in seeing him so speechless.

Parting your lips, you try to soothe the sting of your words, only they all fall short. Every time you try to recollect them, they wither away. It’s almost like your mind is warning you from worsening the situation. But the silence is deafening. Sinatra's voice cannot even fill it. His disappointment is too loud; the shattering of his heart like an explosion. And your pain can never shut up. All you can hear is how miserable your soul is and how depressed your heart becomes upon every glance his way. It’s the soft look in his eyes, even when he’s glaring, and the little scrunch of his nose.

With a deep breath, you turn back to the sculpture to keep your hands busy. As you use the pad of your pinkie to smoothen out the stretch mark lines you’ve carved, you say, “We had a drink. That’s as far as we got.”

Taehyung clears his throat. His hands pick up where they left off around the nipple. “Had I known you were out, I wouldn’t have called,” he sighs.

You try not to scoff, particularly because he sounds surprisingly sincere. Sneaking a glance up at him from your squatting position on the floor, you try to search for his usual tell-tale signs. He always blinks one too many times in the same two minute span when he’s lying, that’s if he’ll even meet your gaze. He’s already looking at you when you begin to search his features. He holds your stare and you start to worry that you wrongfully cursed him before when you were convinced that he knew.

“You really didn’t know?”

He shakes his head. “Why would anyone tell me you’re going on a date?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Would you want to hear that I have been on one?”

“Have you?”

Internally cringing, you snap your attention back on the sculpture. The question simply slipped out. He must know that. Of course you’re curious about his love life since you’ve left it, but you don’t need him to know that. And even if he was prying into your date tonight, you still don’t feel comfortable with him knowing that you’ve been wondering about him too, worrying that he’s found the love of his life and forgotten all about you.

Taehyung chuckles. “Do you really want to know?”

Three? Four? Five? How many dates did he have to go on to be able to ask such a question? You hold your breath the moment you feel your next intake waver. Running your tongue between the gaps of your teeth, you stand up and begin detailing the left breast.

“I’m not going to beg you,” you grumble under your breath while sculpting the nipple. Your eyes shift from the one you're working on to the one he perfected, making sure they’re at least even.

“Never had a problem with that before.”

He does not mutter it. He does not whisper it. He chuckles through the statement, cockiness dripping from his tone. Shooting him a glare, you find his jaw moving, the imaginary gum returning. Taehyung smirks at you, eyes dancing over your features like he’s figured you all out.

You raise your brows at him, lips slightly parted by a little smile. “Once again, Taehyung, your memory has miserably failed you,” you start only to widen his grin.

“How so?”

“You’ve been on your knees far more times than I’ve been on mine. You’ve whined louder too.”

He leans in, wrist against his stomach as he lets out a hearty laugh. You feel a rush of your arousal pool at your core just from the simple sound. Face growing hot, you realize how much you’ve missed this, missed him. He always laughed with his whole body, clutching onto you when clutching on his stomach never granted him any stability. Sometimes he’d brace his teeth in a boxy smile and let out his deep chuckles that way. So endearing, so cute, Taehyung would always loop you in his laughing fit as well.

Biting on the sides of your cheeks, you keep yourself from joining in this time. “Why is that so funny?”

Taehyung shakes his head at you as his laughter dies down. With a smile still gracing his features, he replies, “You’re always begging for me. Oh, I remember once you were on the table and you won’t let go of me and until I, and I quote, ‘rammed into you with the force of a thousand waterfalls.’”

Shit. You remember that day all too clearly. Taehyung had been painting and you were somewhere in the kitchen sketching his hands from a distance since he would always tease you about that. Somehow you found out he’d been painting you nude from memory and wanted to help him out. You began stripping for him, inching closer with every piece of clothing you shed. He watched you draw closer to him, and there was something about the way his eyes drank you in that you could not shake. It just made you giddy all over, dripping for his love by the time you were fully naked and within his reach. You were so horny, you said anything to make sure he ruined you.

Avoiding his eye, you reluctantly reply, “I do not recall.”

That statement tips him off immediately. His endearing innocence darkens; you don’t even need to look over to witness it happen. You can feel it. You can feel his demeanour change. Taehyung sets whatever tool he’s using down and towers over you. Stilling in place, you let him graze the bridge of his nose in your hair.

“Do you want me to remind you,” he whispers before pressing his lips to your ear, adding, “my muse?”

Knees all but trembling, you have to remind yourself to keep your eyes open. His warm breath fans over your skin, prickling goosebumps all over. His fingertips brush up the length of your spine, streaking your back with clay and leaving a chain of shiver in their wake. Then there’s that little pet name. Your soul shudders to hear it again while your core waters.

What does he even mean? How far is he willing to go to remind you how badly you wanted him?

Breath shaky, you gingerly meet his gaze. Noses brushing, you try to ignore how good he smells. His scent is always a cross between chalky clay and citrusy cherries. A whine threatens to slip out and you have to swallow thickly just to silence it. “You can try,” you whisper only to feel his hands on your hips.

The grey clay stains the hem of your black pants and a majority of your skin. Taehyung turns you towards him then presses himself against you. His semi-hard rubs against your stomach, making him groan. Seems like he’s falling apart faster than you are. Did he miss this too? Miss the way you smell, the way it feels to be near you again?

You rest your arms on his shoulders and he guides you around and back to his work table. It’s almost like a little dance, with the quiet music still playing in the background. Faces only a breath apart, the temptation to kiss him only grows. But giving in would only prove him right. After so many months, you cannot grant him this victory of being right, especially since he was the one in the wrong when you left.

When the back of your thighs meet the edge of the table, Taehyung shifts his hands down to your ass, gripping tightly and he lifts you up against him and onto the table. You have to choke back a moan just from the rough grip. Your lips brush against each other’s, but neither one of you is willing to bite the bullet first.

“Any of this familiar yet?” Taehyung asks. His voice is almost an octave deeper, saturated in lust and desire.

Smirking, you shake your head.

Taehyung tongues his cheek and cocks a brow. He leans back a bit, hands circling around your waist to rest on your thick thighs. His cocky grin widens as he pushes them further apart. One of his hands shifts up to your crotch, thumb grazing the seams. Face lighting up, Taehyung glances down at your crotch and brushes over it once more.

“No panites?” He questions with a chuckle. “This is looking more and more like that night then I thought it would.”

The confidence he oozes should annoy you, but you find yourself only spreading your legs further for him. Whenever he’s acting this egotistic, you cannot help but respond to it by giving yourself to him. This is a fact he knows well and uses to his advantage any time he’s ever felt like it.

You try to keep your wits about you, saying, “I wouldn’t know.”

Taehyung suddenly leans in. Your breath hitches at the realization that he’s swallowing his pride, that he’s finally going to kiss you. You’ve been dreaming about his lips for months, wondering how you’d be able to find someone else who just fits ever so perfectly against your lips. Eyes fluttering closed, lips in a faint pucker, you’ve inhaled deeply only to have him kiss your chin. He chuckles quietly against your skin, licking his way to your jawline all while leaving you breathless.

“You’re about to,” he growls.

As your body is in the midst of reacting, he somehow digs his nails into the seams of your pants and tears them apart. You gasp, shifting your hands from his shoulder to the edge of the table. You cannot help but stare down at the tear in amazement. Questions on how and why die in your throat when you find that Taehyung’s attention is not even on you anymore. He’s tightening his grip on your thighs and gazes down at your pussy. It pulses under his gaze, much to his own amazement.

Squatting down, he licks his lips at this new angle. “Well, fuck,” he whispers. “How long have you needed me?”

Four months, you wish you had the courage to say. Instead you breathlessly reply, “I’m not sure this is what happened that night.”

“How would you know? I thought you didn’t remember.”

He’s only teasing but his tone is accusatory. You already know it’s because you’ve refused to answer his previous question. And your decision to talk back only adds to his shift in demeanour. Once cheeky, his features darken into something closer to vexation. You’ve pushed the wrong buttons it would seem.

Narrowing his eyes, he orders, “Tell me, my muse. Tell me how long you’ve been needing me.”

You suck in a sharp breath. Pressing your lips together in a fine line, you refuse to make another sound, let alone utter another word. You’ll be damned if you have to admit that you regret walking away, that you cannot even remember the details of your date because all you could think about was everything he would do differently. Having to admit that for the last four months all you’ve been able to do is touch yourself to the thought of him or cry wouldn’t just be motifying but shameful and pathetic.

With a slow nod, Taehyung sighs. You think this is it. He’s ripped your pants apart, looked at every inch of your barest part, and teased you all for nothing. You’d maybe ask to borrow some pants, and he might give you some. But, other than that, nothing would’ve come from this interaction. The flirty comments and knowing looks would disappear with your relationship, this you feel you are sure of.

Then, he plays against your expectations; something you should have expected. Just when you’re about to bring your legs together, Taehyung spreads them apart further and shoves his face between them. He cannot use his hands there since they are covered in clay and, it seems, he also refuses to use his tongue. You cannot hold back the moans that pour out of you with every ministration. Merely smearing his face into your heat, Taehyung teases your clit. The bridge of his nose trails between your folds, lips pressing wet kisses to your tightening hole. From left to right, he shakes his face against your pussy.

You buck your hips against his lips, lacking shame and restraint. “Tae,” you moan, voice breaking.

Taehyung pulls away. Heaving and eyes half-lidded, he smirks up at you. He’s drenched in your arousal, looking like the cat who got the cream. “How long?” He mewls.

“Gimme your tongue,” you whine.

Taehyung mockly pouts up at you. He always looks prettiest on his knees, pretending to be in charge from such a degrading position. “Would you tell me then, babe?”

Your hips inadvertently roll at the pet name. You love it when he babies you like that, when he makes you feel so precious and fragile even though you both know you can rule over anything you want. Hesitantly, you nod. He raises a brow, waiting for verbal confirmation that you’ll tell him once he gives you his tongue.

With a little shrug of a single shoulder, you reply, “Why don’t you give it a try, TaeTae.”

His left eye twitches. You know exactly how that name affects him. His anger and powerful demeanor tremble when you dwell on him like that. He doesn’t need to tell you that he’s suddenly yours to overtake; his large eyes do the trick.

Swiping his tongue over his lips, Taehyung cleans his mouth from you. One little taste and his pupils expand, blown by lust and hunger. You don’t have to waste anymore time convincing him that you’d answer his question if he goes down on you. Your taste seems to be enough of a factor, in itself. He dips his head back in, tongue out this time. The tip pushes through your hole, lapping up your pooling juices. Leaning back on your hands, you gasp a loud moan. He knows his way around so well. One flick up, and your toes are curling. No amount of time apart has disturbed his memory of you. This may have been something you noticed while sculpting but now you can feel it. Tongue in and out, warm and wet, Taehyung explores your pussy like it’s his first time, only he knows everything about it.

You want to tangle your fingers in his hair, to see how the long strands feel in your hand, but they’re covered in clay too. And you know from experience just how hard it is to get clay out of hair. Once it completely dries, it almost seems like the only other option is to cut it all out. So, instead, you just dig your nails into the table, engraving your presence in the wood.

Rolling your hips into his face, you cry out your pleasure. Your legs are shaking, squeezing around his face, but he can’t seem to care any less. In fact, judging by his groans and growls, he seems to love the suffocation. He even pushes your legs further against his cheeks. Freezing in place, Taehyung only allows his tongue to continue to swirl around your pussy. His fingers harshly press into your thighs, sure to leave bruises, but you don’t care. Having him mark you up just like when you were together, is enough to make your eyes roll back.

You’re so, so close. Pussy clenching, his tongue still pushes its way in. He’s determined to see you through, to have you unfold right in his hands so hard that he still won’t breathe. And though you start to worry a bit, you cannot really pay attention to anything else besides the pleasure.

“Oh, Tae,” you cry. Voice breathy and high-pitched, it’s only a matter of time before-

It hits you hard, fast, and completely off guard. You have felt it growing and knotting in the pit of your stomach, but have no idea it would rush at you this harshly that you completely fall back on the table. Body convulsing, you scream and cream all over his tongue, mouth, and chin. His entire face will smell like you for days.

Taehyung forces your tightening legs apart, gasping for air. Gazing up at you, he sticks his tongue out and against your clit. He’s determined to help you ride out your high and nods his head up and down. You watch him through blurry vision, shamelessly rocking your hips up to meet him halfway. Or, at least you try to. Soon, you become all too sensitive to even hold his gaze, let alone grind against his tongue.

You fight against his hold on your legs, whining loudly. “Okay, okay,” you gasp as you try to seat yourself up.

He doesn’t care. That once yielding look in his eyes flashes into a demanding one. Seeing you so helpless under him shocks him with power once again. “One more time,” he pants against your heat.

“TaeTae,” you mewl, attempting to manipulate your way out of this overstimulated feast.

However, the use of the name this time, only spurs him on. He knows what you’re trying to do and doesn’t at all find it amusing. This time when he repeats his words, he growls, “One more time!”

Lips suctioning around your clit, he harshly sucks. Slurping and swallowing everything you have to offer, Taehyung holds your gaze. You’re a trembling mess. Tears falling freely down your face, you curse him three times over and buck your hips against his mouth. He finds the entire sight so humorous, he can’t help but smirk.

You’re still his little toy, a play thing for him to fool around with and test out some kinks on. The realization should make you curse him again and again, but you can only play into it. Pouting and mewling, you’ve fully sold yourself out just so Taehyung is well fed with your juices.

This is the peak of his games, you think. This is as far as he will go and you expect that you’ll cum in another minute or so. But then his teeth graze your clit once, twice, three times. You come undone within seconds. Arching your back, you let out the neediest cry you’ve ever heard and pathetically cum against his chin. The shudders and shivers of your body are beyond your control, as is your broken voice and any lasting grip you thought you had on reality.

As if biting and sucking your clit isn’t mindbreaking enough, Taehyung dips his tongue back in you to sneak another taste. “Taehyung, please,” you beg. “Please!”

He finally lets up, removing his face from your sopping heat and releasing his hold on your legs. You instantly bring them together and hug them into your chest. Heaving and shedding your last few tears, you try to recompose yourself and the silent atmosphere you once shared while sculpting.

“Strange,” he starts, returning to his feet. He takes his hands in yours, slowly unwrapping the hug you’ve cocooned yourself in. “It sounds a lot like that night. But, that’s not at all what I was doing then to make you this needy.”

To anyone else, you would've looked fucked out and completely ruined. But Taehyung knows that’s not at all the case. He has tested your stamina enough to know that you can most likely go for another round or two. Pulling your legs apart, he stands between them then helps sit you back up.

Faces inches away, you exchange breaths. “How long have you been this needy, my muse?” He asks again.

He really does smell like you. His cheeks, nose, chin, and lips are smeared with your cum. It doesn’t even look like he was feasting. It almost looks like he just wanted to cover his face with your juices. Gulping, you consider his question. You did insinuate that you’d answer the question if he gave you his tongue. And, holy fuck, did he give it to you. However, an insinuation is not a promise. He made that clear during your last argument.

“I don’t remember promising anything,” you whisper in a light pant.

The pain in his eyes cannot be neither mistaken nor missed. Echoing his words all these months later, surely recalls suppressed emotions of misery and betrayal for the both of you. He sneers a smirk, glaring at your lips. “Your memory has failed you,” he hisses. Gripping onto your hips, marking you there with bruises as well, he adds, “But, I won’t.”

“Not again, anyway.”

You sound colder than he does which causes him to hesitate for a moment. His hands fall by his sides as he searches your face for some sort of confirmation to continue. He almost seems like he’s not sure if he really wants to pick up where he left off too, seeing that you’re still upset with him. The guilt of seeing him so fragile and wounded eats away the majority of your anger. But, if he thinks he’s the only one struggling to make sense of this break up, he’s wrong.

Right now, the only way you can think of showing that to him is by first displaying your eagerness to continue in this sexual stroll down memory lane. You lean forward, brushing the tip of your nose against his, and reach down to his crotch. The dent in his jumpsuit throbs in your hand. His hard cock all but pulses under your palm as you rub at it. His breath hitches. You then untie the sleeves of his jumpsuit and watch carefully as his cock comes back into view. Fuck, you’ve forgotten just how pretty it is when it’s all pink tipped and desperate to be pumped. He shifts a bit, you assume to step out of the jumpsuit, and resettles his hands back on your waist.

Not another moment of uncertainty stands between you anymore. Swallowing his pride, Taehyung kisses you first. Lips on lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue has you moaning already. He seems to take this as a sign to let himself go as well. He pulls you closer to the edge of the table and rolls his hips into yours. The length of his dick rubs between your folds, but he doesn’t enter. Not yet. He simply teases the idea of entering, of ruining you.

But, you’re too overstimulated to enjoy it in its entirety. Your legs resume their little shudders at the tiniest bit of friction when his cock just happens to brush against your clit. Taehyung, upon noticing this, makes sure to touch it with every new grind against you. He smirks when you whimper into his mouth and chuckles a bit when you break the kiss to whine his name.

“What is it, baby,” he coos. He grounds his hips harder into yours, erupting moans from the both of you. “Ah, shit, I could just cum like this,” he hisses as his mouth hovers over yours.

A little smirk tugs on your lips at his words. Yes, you may be helplessly falling apart with every passing second. However, watching him come undone from the impression of your pussy against his cock, is a rather prideful moment. You tilt your head and begin peppering his chin and cheeks with open mouthed kisses, staining his face with your saliva now as well as your cum.

“Then, just cum, TaeTae,” you whine.

Perhaps if you didn’t sound so desperate, he probably would’ve switched back into his own submissive state. But, it’s the squeal in your voice and mischief in your tone that only drives him further down his power trip. He pulls away a bit, holding your horny gaze with an unimpressed one of his own. He realigns his hips as his jaw shifts. He’s pretending to chew gum again. Holy shit, he’s going to fuck you senseless.

He does not push into you though. Instead, he pulls you onto him by the deadly grip he has on your hips. You stare up at him as a loud cry escapes you with every inch that stretches your walls. Taehyung looks back with very little remorse in his eyes. The sight of you so small in his arms, whipped for his cock, makes his tip twitch a bit. But he is not immune to the action of entering you, sucking in a sharp breath.

“I can’t believe I forgot how tight you were,” he whispers, voice breaking.

And you thought you could never forget how big he is, but here you are. Eyes rolling back, you relish in his size like it the first time. “Big,” you mewl as he bottoms out. “Tae, you’re so big.” You sound just as broken as he does.

He cannot even find it in him to be cocky about it. He hears the realization in your voice. He knows you’ve forgotten too. A flash of pain twinkles in his eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and whisper. “Remind me, Taehyung.” His brows quirk up and you add, “Remind me how good you make me feel. And I’ll remind you the same.”

Taehyung presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. Then, his hips snap in action. Holding you close, he starts hard and fast. He’s naked and growling into your ear with every thrust. You’re clothed and whining with every rumble of his chest and jerk of his hips. You didn’t even have to beg to bring out such a feral side of him. Could it be that he’s looking for the same thing you are? A lost lover?

Clay smeared fingers pressing into his skin, you push away that thought and scratch at his back. That once blank canvas of muscle and skin will now be lined with your lov- lust. This is just lust. You have to remind yourself of this fact every time he pushes into you.

He quietly hisses with each streak until he pauses his thrusts. You pout, leaning back a bit to ask if anything is wrong. But before you can even part your lips, Taehyung is readjusting his grip from your hips to your tube top.

“You’re a fucking slut to dress like this for him,” he growls. Then, in one swift motion, he pulls it down. You gasp as your breasts spill out, not out of exposure, but simply shock. He grips onto the rolled down top and smirks. “They’re a little uneven,” he points out. “But, I like that about them. Does he too? Does he get to see you like this, slut?”

You’ve got it wrong. It’s not your use of his nickname that has sent him spiralling into a pit of dominance, but rather that you went out to see another man. Is that why he ripped your pants apart? He’s destroying the outfit he thinks you wore for somebody else. Not only that, but his words only confirm that he is indeed sculpting you. All from memory, Taehyung has been molding your naked body down to the precise imperfection of your slightly uneven breasts.

And while you’re still trying to make sense of it all, he slaps one of them causing you to moan and throw your head back. Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin and drags your head back down to meet his gaze. “Answer me,” he seethes. “How much of you does he have?”

“None!” You shout. Your breathing is uneven, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat to continue, “I don’t even remember his name; he’s irrelevant.”

Taehyung circles his hips around yours, clearly pleased with your reply. But he does not pick up where he left off. “You haven’t been able to remember a lot tonight. Is that all irrelevant to you too?”

The shake of your head is reactive. You barely even had to think about it. This act of pretending that you don’t feel anything for him anymore has clearly fallen. “That’s not it, Taehyung,” you whine, hooking a leg around his waist. He wipes the tears streaming down your face as you continue, “I just didn’t want to remember us.”

Licking his lips, Taehyung slowly pulls out and eases himself back in. You tremble, watery eyes twitching in bliss. “Tell me how long you’ve been needy, baby,” he whispers.

“Have I not said enough already?”

You clutch onto his biceps and buck your hips up to meet his. He gasps, unable to hide his smile. You can tell he wants to finish this conversation but, with the way your walls are tightening around him, he doesn’t seem like he’s able to. One look in his eyes and you can tell he’s consumed by the pleasure all too much to reply.

Taehyung lets one hand fall to his side when he starts to pick up his pace. You shift one of your hands to his shoulders while the other holds onto the table’s edge. He holds you by the grip he has on your rolled tube top and smacks his hips against yours. It’s almost as if he’s riding a horse with the way he’s fucking you. And if you don’t whine loud enough, he’d slap each of your tits and force those screams out of you, growling, “You can do better than that.”

Removing your hands off him and back to the table, you accidentally rest your hand on one of his palettes. You gasp, looking over to find your hand smeared with blue and yellow hues. Taehyung laughs and rams into you faster. “You’re just making a mess wherever you go, hmm?” he teases.

You pout. He’s having too much fun making a mockery of you. Granted, you’re loving the attention, the way he’s fucking you into submission and realization, but you cannot let all this go to his head too much. As he smacks your breasts once more, nipples a little raw as they sting, you wipe your hand on him, down from his cheek to his collarbone.

He gasps, but his hips never stutter. Before you can even register his actions, Taehyung readjusts his grip from your top to your breasts and shoves his face between them. He transfers the swirl of dark blue and gold all over you as he fucks you as senseless as you predicted.

And as he playfully punishes you, blowing raspberries into your chest, you find yourself missing this, missing him. How could you have forgotten he likes to get playful, that he can switch between his two demeanours so seamlessly? He giggles when he pushes your breast into his face and further stains them with paint.

“The only one making a mess is you,” you rush to whine as your impending orgasm nears.

Dipping your hand in more paint, you rub the colours on his back and shoulders. You’re going to colour him yours if this is the last thing the two of you do together. Paint on his skin, in his hair, all over him, you’re going to make your impression here last through all the moans and whines and lewd slouches of your sensitive wetness around him.

Taehyung kisses his way up to your lips. He slips his tongue in once he reaches them and rolls his hips into you particularly harder than before. He can feel that he’s got you trailing the edge of your high. Thrust upwards, Taehyung reaches your most sensitive place. Every ram into it makes you shudder, toes curling and moans pouring into his mouth. One of his hands shifts up to your breast, massaging the smeared paint in, while the other holds your hips in place.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whines against your lips. “Come back to me.”

He can’t do this. He can’t beg you to come back with his dick shoved so deep in you like this. You’re so fucking close and he knows this. He can feel every inch of you tighten around him and desperate to be released. It’s cruel of him to manipulate you like this, to kiss you like he’s lost in the moment when he’s really just lost in you.

Kissing his way to your ear, Taehyung feels your pussy quiver. He smirks, thrusting hard enough to move the table back, and growls in your ear, “Come back to me, my muse. Cum.”

You fall back onto the table, body a total shaking shock as your orgasm washes over every inch of you. With one hand trembling over your lips, your other grabs onto one of your tits in an effort to brace yourself from the rush of ecstasy that overcomes you. The moans and whines that leave you are no exception to your convulsing state. Their breathless, broken, and blaring as you practically scream out in bliss.

Taehyung enjoys the show, watching you forget how to breathe from his place between your legs. He’s still going fast and hard, groaning when he feels you coat his cock in your cum. Mesmerized by the sight of your unheld breast bouncing with each of his thrust, he slaps it. You squeal at the sting.

And as you try to look at him, still riding out your orgasm, Taehyung’s cock twitches only to paint your inner walls with his missed affections. He falls forward, over you, burying his face between your tits again. You push them into his face and shake them against his cheeks, hearing him growl over your heart.

At some point, he stops thrusting and opts to circling his hips into yours. It’s all the same to you. Your legs continue to shake and your heart still races. Drenched in sweat, paint, and clay, you two lie there for a second longer. Even while growing limp, Taehyung feels so full in you.

He peels himself off you. His face, glistening in paint, looks like Van Gogh’s starry night, his eyes being the sparkling stars. He smirks down at you before trailing his gaze lower. That smile falls with every part of you he realizes he has ruined. Your chest is exposed and covered in colours, shirt non existent, pants clay stained and torn straight down the middle, and pussy a sopping mess of your mixed cum when he pulls out.

“I did make a mess,” he pants.

One step back, then two, then three. He distances himself from you as if ashamed of his work. You slowly sit up and cross your legs. Already, they feel strained and sore. But, they’re the least of your worries. It's the way that Taehyung winces at the sight of you, that has your heart somersaulting into your stomach. You swallow thickly between heaving pants and watch him carefully. He’s completely bare and looks even more broke than you do. His gaze looks vague and face sickly. Shaking his head, Taehyung runs a hand through his hair. He looks so annoyed with himself, he cannot even find it in him to laugh at the fact that he only got more paint in his hair.

Crossing your arms over your chest to cover yourself up a bit, you say, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He blinks repeatedly, snapping his attention back up at you. “Why aren’t you disturbed by this?” He questions, voice all but breaking.

Your eyes scan up and down his frame before your brows knit together in confusion. Is he referring to his naked body, or that the two of you just came to the thought of dating each other again? Still, why is either of those things worth being disturbed over? A naked Taehyung post sex has never been a bad sight and, though things did end horribly, the thought of being with him again doesn’t seem so bad now. Did he not mean it when he asked you to come back? Was it just something to get off to? Are you just something to get off to?

“What?” You whisper now that your anxious train of thought has robbed your voice.

“Aren’t you dating?” He clarifies. “That poor guy. I can’t believe I just let us do that.”

You’ve never seen him this distressed. He walks back to you, just to grab his jumpsuit and briefs. He can’t even bear to look at you as you stare back at him in complete confusion. What does he think happened here? That you cheated? Clenching your jaw, you can't believe that he could think that low of you. Then again, you never did blatantly say that it was your first date since the break up. In fact, now that you think about it, you did make it seem like you were in a relationship with someone else.

Taehyung hastily gets dressed as you try to hop off the table without falling on your face from how weak your legs are after such a fucking. “Tae,” you start only to have him walk away. With a sigh, you call after him. He ignores you.

What the hell are you supposed to do now? You sure as hell can’t follow him with your legs so sore and he doesn’t seem to want to talk to you. And even if you could walk, your clothes are ruined and it would take a while for an uber to get here with all the snow coming down out there. The distant spray of the shower directs your attention to the hallway Taehyung escaped down to get away from you. Great, he’s showering and left you here to figure this all out yourself.

Taking a seat on the floor, you decide to give your legs a moment to rest before ordering yourself an uber and hoping that this night ends soon. You should’ve listened to your gut and rejected his call. You shouldn’t have agreed to this, or come here, or let him remind you just how much you miss and love him. All you ever wanted was- is him. If it haven’t been for this whole stupid issue about moving in, you’d still have him.

But, no. You had to force him into a step he wasn’t ready for. You lost him then and you came back to watch yourself lose him again. Is that it? Is that why you didn’t even explain yourself to the poor guy that was sitting across from you at Rollos. Yes, Rollos; that’s where you went for drinks. Wow, your memory really hasn’t served you well tonight. You hope you forget this tomorrow. You hope you'll be able to forget how pathetic you feel, how hurt he sounds, and how you lost him all over again.

“Get up,” Taehyung orders. His voice is rough, like he had been sobbing.

Looking over to him, you find that could’ve actually been the case. His face is tear streaked now as well as paint smeared. He stands a good few feet away from you, glaring down at your woefully ruined frame. “Taehyung, I’m not-”

He doesn’t seem to want to hear any of it. “Get up,” he repeats. “Go shower. I have some clothes for you to wear then I’m taking you home.”

“Tae, just liste-”

“Delete my number. We never talk about this again. And if you’re at all like the person I loved, you’d tell him the truth.”

Is he seriously judging you right now? You’ve barely even had a chance to explain yourself. He really doesn’t want to listen to anything you have to say, cutting you off like you’re less than him. You cannot help but scoff at him and his words.

Taehyung sighs. “Just please get up, (Y/N).”

“I’m not dating anyone.”

His superiority falls. The life returns to his face as he approaches you but you recoil into yourself the moment he steps forward. Pausing, he tilts his head at you. “What is it?”

What is it? This man is going to be the death of you. “You just shamed me for something that wasn’t true, Taehyung!” You shout.

“I thought you were cheating with me!”

You use the table to help yourself up and dryly chuckle. “Ha, yeah because lying is such a normal thing to do, right? I’m as twisted as you, Taehyung.”

“I lied because I knew saying no would hurt you. Why can’t you see that I was just looking out for you?”

That one sentence makes you freeze in place. Is he really that fucking dense? He can’t seriously believe that looking out for someone you love involves lying. Slowly turning to face him, you don't even make an effort to hide your tears anymore. “You were looking out for yourself and you know it!”

“I just didn’t-”

“Want to grow tired of me.” You finish for him in a mocking tone.

Taehyung huffs, shaking his head. “That’s not what I was going to say. Would you just let me finish?”

You’re done with this stupid conversation. All you want to do is go home and get as far away as possible from him and the way he smells and the fact that even though you hate him so much right now, you want him to come and hug you and tell you everything is going to be okay. But, he’s just so annoying. And you can’t bear to look at him anymore with that cold glare consistently being directed towards you. You’ll wait outside for the uber. Hell, you’ll just walk back to your apartment. Anything to get out of here and away from him.

In an attempt to follow through, you try to make your way towards the door, but your legs almost instantly give out.

“Jesus, babe,” Taehyung hisses, rushing to your side.

It’s not even just the fact that you’re sore but your ripped pants are starting to rub up against your cum leaking pussy. You whine a bit and try to shake him off in order to jump back onto the table. But, you’re thankful he stays by your side because you definitely cannot get up there alone with your lacking upper body strength.

His hands linger on your thighs, softening eyes locked on yours. A hint of a smirk plays on his lips before he says, “I remember doing this to you often.”

Yes, leaving you limping around the apartment was his favourite pastimes. He liked to watch you struggle to walk after every intimate moment. In fact, he always felt like he didn’t do his job right if you’re not limping. He’d go ten times rougher the next time around and then cuddle you to his chest, cooing reassurances in your ear. Was it bad that you wanted that all the time? That you wanted to sleep and wake up in the same bed he does everyday?

Slow tears roll down your face as you take his hand art stained in yours. “It was my first date since our break up,” you confess. “Sumni asked for your number… and for permission to go out with you. I just felt a little hurt that you were moving on.”

“She called.”

Your heart has shattered too many times tonight to even react to his words, but you can feel your soul shudder. She called. And did he answer? Did he have a drink with her too? You want to ask but your pride swallows your questions whole. All you can bring yourself to say is, “She’s a nice girl.”

He nods. Squeezing your hand, Taehyung wraps his arm loosely around your waist and stands in front of you. “I told her I wasn’t really ready to see anyone else yet,” he tells you, pressing himself against you.

The gesture is not at all sexual and you do not interpret it as such. Rather, it is tender and comforting. He releases his hold on your hand to wipe your tears, letting his own fall. Licking his lips, he whispers, “What’s his name?”

You shrug.

“Come on,” he half-heartedly nudges your legs. “Tell me.”

Does he think you’re trying to spare his feelings? Meeting his gaze, you can’t help but smile. He looks so cute, so precious in front of you. Playing with his hand, your fingers looping around his, you reply, “I don’t remember. I only spoke to him for half an hour or something.”

He cannot hide his smile, but avoids your gaze. Even still, you can see the relief within them. He seems to be pleased that you’re just as miserable as he is, pining after someone you cannot have any more.

“Is that why you came over?”

You shake your head before you can even think the action through. And the words leave your lips just the same, “I just missed you.”

“I really missed you too,” he croaks, rushing to say the words like he can’t believe them himself. “God, I’ve just wanted you back for so long.”

He’s all but sobbing in front of you. Parting your lips, you’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have you, not yet anyways. The fact is that he still lied, and has continued to lie to manipulate you. This cannot be forgiven so easily. You love and miss him dearly, but surely you cannot just take him back without discussing the cause of your break up first.

But then, Taehyung burrows his face into the crook of your neck and lets himself fall apart. Hugging you close, he cries into your skin. You cannot hold back the sob that tears through your throat just from the mere sound of his choked breaths and wet tears against you.

“I’m so sorry,” he cries as you cradle his head. “I’m sorry.”

The broken tone of his voice is enough to make you whimper into his hair. He sounds so fragile. This break up, you realize, has torn him inside out too. Pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, you try to console both of your fears. But every sob trembles your courage and every drop of his tears makes you recoil in guilt and shame. How could you have done this to him, to your relationship?

He shudders a breath as he pulls away. Red in the face, wet streaks staining his painted cheeks, he cups his hands under your jaw and says, “Look, you can move in right now, okay? Alright? I’ll get your things tomorrow. I’ll give you Jungkook’s key. He only comes here to steal our food anyways.” Just stay, please (Y/N).”

His voice is shaky and tone all but heartbreaking as he chuckles at his own little joke. The desperation is real and hard to deny. You cannot even open your mouth to even voice your reservations about dating again. Clutching onto his jumpsuit, you try to revert your gaze to your lap in hopes to find your courage and tell him that you need to talk first. Only, Taehyung dips his head low to catch your eyes again. He’s determined to have you stay. And your silence only provokes more tears.

“I promise I’ll never tell another lie,” he sobs. “I promise I’ll never let my worries get in between us again. Please, baby, just please stay. Say that you’ll stay.”

You cannot watch this for another moment longer. There’s lots you still have left to discuss, like why he’s so worried about growing tired of you, and why he felt the need to lie in the first place. But his promise to never do it again is enough for now. And you just can’t sit here watching him cry any longer. You pull him towards you, pepper his cheeks with gentle kisses then cradle his head.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tae,” you mutter into his hair. “Mostly because I can’t.”

Your attempt at a joke causes him to choke out a chuckle. He showers the crook of your neck with wet kisses, muttering into your skin, “I love you.”

Rapturing in a relieved frenzy, your nerves dance within your bloodstream and repair your ruptured heart. You let out a deep breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. “I love you too,” you cry.

The last four months haven’t granted you a shred of peace. You’ve lived and re-lived that argument over and over again, praying you can just go back and fix it all there and then. But, maybe… maybe it all needed to fall apart to fall back into place. Maybe it needed to rupture to rapture.

tags: @miinoongi, @jenotation, @allannahmalik, @taeshuworld

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

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